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shaisuki · 4 months

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𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

ft. bully gojo satoru and geto suguru

content warnings college au, heavy bullying, alcohol consumption, smut, dubious consent, humiliation, gojo and geto's pov, threats, abuse of power, not proofread. dead dove do not eat.

notes nothing eventful about this. only gojo and geto's pov and the next chapter is going to be serious for real. it might be a boring chapter to you. as always thank you for the endless support of this. a major timeskip will happen in the next chapter.

taglist: @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320

SERIES MASTERLIST

synopsis they didn't know that would be the last time they will see you.

it's almost natural.

how your body melds against their own. filling the gaps and crevices and the comfort it brought to them. they can't help it. how your body provided warmth and the pleasure as it courses throughout their body. you were simply divine on your own. the clothing they bought for you was simply irresistible on you. they never tell you that but their actions told you.

the blue and white corset type top of they bought for you sealed the deal. flattering the shape of your body and just makes the swell of your stomach makes it more sexier than it was. the shopping trip was really the way to get you out of your boring clothes and access was made easier.

“twirl.” suguru order you to so and you spun your heel. turning around slowly for them to examine. “you look pretty for once.” geto smirks in approval. drinking in the sight of your plump figure in that top paired with that black skirt that rest in your mid-thigh showing that thick thighs squished together.

“don't be so fucking tense.” satoru's voice rumbles. annoyed by your shaking. it was the nerves. it wasn't the mocking kind of voice he uses to you instead it was harsh. chastising you for such rigid posture. “satoru, you can be so stern sometimes. go easy on (y/n). she's not used to this.” geto tuts at gojo's behavior. satoru rolled his eyes at him. “that's why she should start learning to be grateful.” shaking his head and he looks at you. shivering and cowering in the sound of his voice. it doesn't help that they were both staring at you like a piece of meat to be examined.

the duo stands up from they were seated. their tall stature towering over you and helpless you are when they surrounded you like this. “that's only for the good, baby. we're going to a party later and we need you to look best, okay?” suguru explains it to you and thus wiring your brain to believe it was only for the good. damn well you know they have the reputation to uphold. “maybe, we can help you to loosen up?” he added. “just trust us.” he says and his hands are holding to the exposed skin where your skirt doesn't cover it.

your lips are warm. smooth too as it brushes to his lips. there's also a hint of sweetness of it too. maybe that's the reason why he likes kissing you. groaning when you pull his hair as he kisses you. swirling his tongue in the expanse of your mouth while his friend kisses your other lips. he can't stop. how he can stop when you taste so good. air was being a problem too. although it frustrates him from the lack of air he needed to let go. both of you are softly panting. catching each other's breaths and gojo stares at your face. you got eyes that can rival his even it's the same as everyone else but when he say it is, it is. he stares at it. trying to find the answers you possibly hold in this life and maybe it's in there and his eyes went to your lips. the softest pair of lips he had kissed. it was like mochi. soft when you bite into it and before he could get lost to your eyes. he catches your lips again and he wishes that breathing isn't such a problem.

suguru let out a satisfied hum. your skirt are carefully bunched in your waist while his large hands holds your ass. your legs are hooked to his shoulders while he laps at your heat. flicking his tongue against your holds and sucking your cute, little bean that got you whining. muffled by his friend's mouth who got you silent. his hand possessively wrapped around your round stomach. your thighs trembled, it made him feel goddamn proud that you were so feeling good that you unconsciously grind to him. you say you don't like it but your body doesn't lie.

“ngh-mmm” geto hums as he hear you whine in the kiss. you're getting close so he sticks his finger into your dripping hole. sucking your clit while he pumps his finger to your cunt. obscene noises of your cunt squelching as he thrusts his fingers fueled him more to pump it faster until your thighs are too weak to support itself.

gojo breaks the kiss. swiping his lips with his tongue at the saliva both of you exchanged. “look, suguru. (y/n)-chan's cumming.” he said in astonishment. biting your lips as suguru push you into your release. the man below you bestowed only harsh sucks to your poor little clit. gojo laughing at your reaction before dipping to pepper your cheeks with kisses going down to your nape and to your neck. “haaa” you moan out as suguru brought you to your release. your juices gushing down and staining his mouth in which he laps up. not wasting a drop. he licks his lips and seductively licking his fingers clean. “now, it's our turn.”

eyes almost rolling in the back of their head. eyes closed as they came inside you. cocks throbbing as spurts after spurts of their cum are deeply spilled inside of your holes. satoru can't help but to curse. muttering fuck as your cunt squeezes his cock that is deeply nestled inside you and suguru bites your ear. you weren't doing good either. softly panting, sweat beading in your face from how good they have fucked you. almost limp in their hold and after the glow of their post orgasm. they carefully laid down their play toy.

suguru watches you scramble to grab the wet wipes you always have after they dumped their load inside you. running down in your thighs as their spent quickly dried upon being exposed in the cold air. he grabs the wipes from your hand and kneels in front of you. kissing your thighs first before gently wiping the stains of their cum. he wanted you to look presentable, after all you were going to a party. your first, not surprised anything from your lack of experience. people would not want to waste time to talk with you let alone invite you. you're only getting the ticket because of them.

he slowly pulls your skirt down. straightening the slight crumple of your skirt by flattening it between his fingers. he almost laughs seeing as your thighs quiver. you recover slow than the both of them. in his kneeled down position, he can see your stomach poking from that tight corset top. it really does suit you. he and satoru bought that top for you in a size smaller just to see the features you have that you are bothered it. see as you squirm and pull that tight fit clothing in your body so they just could reprimand you.

it's a damn well spent of a money. that he can't help but to say it aloud. your face turning into one of a bashful expression and he finds you so adorable and easy to play with. just say something good and you turn putty in them that it was getting difficult to let you go. satoru being the one who keeps insisting about you. yapping about you every time when you're not around. he keeps his hands holding your thighs together while satoru plays the bow in your top. enthralled by it like he was some sort of a cat. “suguru, can we have more with (y/n)-chan?” absentmindedly asking him about it. geto taps your thighs after he was in cleaning you up. suguru thinks about it but they're already running late even he still wants to. you're just damn irresistible in your new clothes. carefully chosen by them.

suguru chuckles. “idiot, we're already running late, after that we can.” satoru's expression changes into something of annoyed. what a spoiled brat. he thinks but the latter quickly agreed with him. “tch, party pooper.” he ignores the comment and moves his attention to you. he notices the look in your face. one that he knows that you're in a huge discomfort and everything bothers you. nervously chewing your bottom lip.

he grasp your jaw to look at him. “smile, this is your first real party. you're going to enjoy this.” you simply nod then his tone that is somewhat comforting changes into something more of commanding. “ditch us and you know what will happen.” he warns you cause simply you have the habit of being a stubborn bitch. known for defying orders from them and go later crying after being punished. then he simply smiles as he lets go of your jaw.

this is peak college. what really defines college is the parties. the loud music, the shouts of everybody who is simply having fun or simply getting wasted and mostly the pretty girls they can ogle at.

suguru and satoru both glances at you behind them. you look like you were going to run and cry and before you could do anything of what they were thinking. they pull you. shoving you inside with them and a smile instantly lit in their faces. they are what makes a party complete. they ignored you as the passes everybody who greeted them. girls who wants the time of their life and guys who either looks up on them or completely despises them. both grabbing their drinks and satoru caught a glimpse of that zen'in heir annoyingly coming to them.

fuck naoya zen'in. the damn guy was like a year younger than him and acts like they were equal since he insists on convincing them that they were on the same breeding and status alike. they were kings and everything is just plebians around them but satoru contradicts everything of it. his only equal was suguru and everyone else is nothing.

he made it clear and since then naoya started to hold animosity for him. well, he does. who could blame him. he's gojo satoru. he's blessed and could be god's divine creation.

“gojo you son of a bitch. you came.” naoya greeted him and although was gojo was putting a facade he did want nothing more than to wipe the smirk on naoya's face. he just greeted him the same. a way that he could pissed the damn guy.

“ah, zen'in. wouldn't miss this just i could wipe that smirk off your face.” he almost laugh as naoya's smile drops. already quipping a snarky remark until he notices you and satoru didn't like that one bit from how naoya was looking at you. naoya's demeanor turning into a flip upon laying eyes on you. a smirk on his lips. “you two in fat bitches now?” pointing at you with cup in his hands and he scoffs. “none of your business, zen'in.” shooting him a glare but thanks to the dark glasses he wore, naoya's oblivious to it. “then you two wouldn't mind me using her.” he suggested and before he can respond, he hears suguru clicking his tongue. annoyed and pissed and it was not like suguru to get worked up over this. “fuck off.” it was obvious from what suguru wants and naoya sensing the venom in geto's words, raises his hand in mock defeat and disappears in a place where they don't give a shit about.

he was just so angry that naoya could look at you the way they see you. out from anger and he sees you standing behind them. he can't stop the words coming out from his mouth. “you're an embarrassment.” he says without hesitation and he maybe did regret saying that to you after seeing you bite your lower lip and the quick blinking of your eyes that you were holding tears. adding to injury was satoru trying to calm him down. “hey, hey suguru.” gojo taps his shoulder. “let loose, don't naoya get to you.” his best friend assures him and glances down to you. his bright blue eyes peering to show you he was serious and then let the salt burn to your wound. “you're right.” he pauses for a bit with eyes cold staring at you. “find a seat, (y/n). you're embarrassing us now with you around.” he watches you slowly retreat to lick your own wounds.

fuck. he shouldn't have said that. naoya getting better to him and what the hell he is thinking. he couldn't give a damn about what you were feeling. he needed a drink and so then he left satoru and also keeping tabs in where you are. a good girl. you settle in the corner where wasted and just other students who were just to chill gathered.

this is a party and he was going to enjoy it. he quickly grabs a bottle then proceeds to talk with someone who didn't bother to remember their name. just get down to whatever nonsense he can ride on. this is better until his anger simmers down. a temporary distraction to what he really feels and satoru could fuck himself for now.

“satoru.” gojo was taking a swig of his drink when a girl approached him. calling his name like they were lovers but it was more like an ex-fling. never had a relationship with her. she was only a temporary fun. “ah, sar—ah, sayuri.” he almost curses at himself. sayuri playfully pouts at him and there it is, the batting of eyelashes. “that's mean, satoru. you already forgot me.” her lips puckers before placing a hand in his chest. if this was a another party of gojo and he really liked this girl. he briefly remembers her. sayuri — he had hots for her a long time ago.

he would have taken her upstairs but you were here. he caught you in the corner. you were like a child in awe at the people in this house. gojo almost chuckles at your cute antics but suppressed it and then a cruel idea pops in his mind. “missed me?” he asks sayuri and there was no answer needed as he crashes his lips to sayuri. his sight never leaving yours and when you caught him. he watch as your eyes widens, you lower your head in embarrassment before chugging that drink in your cup in one swig. he smirks in the kiss as he watches you wiped your tears away. he always liked making you cry.

did he kiss this chick just to see you get upset. yes, he did. your reactions are priceless and tonight you didn't disappoint. thanks to this sayuri girl. he pulls her more just to kiss her deeper out of gratitude.

this was starting to bore him and suguru dismisses himself. wanting to be in your presence again. he did promise himself to show you a good time cause this was your real party you were going to experience. he still finds you in the corner where you made yourself comfortable. instead of watching the crowd like you the wallflower you are. he finds you with your head hung low and your hands wiping the tears rolling down in your cheeks. you were used to their harsh words and you did cry in almost of them but never publicly. it was for their eyes only and seeing you in distress that you weren't ashamed to bawl your eyes out he finds the reason.

suguru is no stranger to finding satoru making out with some random girl cause he is too. whomever he finds interesting and good enough gets him, so is satoru. he taps his friend's back to gain his attention in which he successfully did. shoving the girl he was making out with earlier. “what suguru?” sometimes satoru was just simply annoying him with questions but he didn't have the strength to entertain his silly questions when there are more important matters and that is you leaving this party.

he points the door where you just left and satoru gets the message and so then they passed the crowd to follow.

it wasn't hard to find you with the students who was going in the same way with you and they were pissed that they had to get away from that crowd just to get you. you better prepare yourself they're not getting easy on you after this.

they easily catches up to you. their tall stature made it easier for them. gojo was the first one to grab you. pulling your arm harshly to stop you from your tracks and turning you around to face them. “we told you, you don't leave without us. do you really want to get punished, (y/n)-chan?” he asks you but it was weird. along with your tear stained face. you were emotionless like you were numb. something is definitely wrong and suguru knows that too but ignored it cause they were angry at you or rather disappointed.

you were really being stubborn tonight. suguru was about to help satoru to drag you but you sat in the ground. you were giving them a hard time and they were calling for both of them and not wanting to be seen in commotion with you. geto warned you. “we're going back to you later.” and they left you followed by the cheers of the everybody partying as the stars once joined them again.

they didn't know that is the last time they were going to see you again.

you disappeared that night and they left for tomorrow to give you a lesson but instead you were gone. they went to your classes. your dormitory and asked your roommate but they were clueless or where you could have gone. it continued for a week and then your dorm room was nothing. no signs of you as they cleared out. suguru searched for your whereabouts. nothing. they also went to go as far contacting your parents but also nothing. they could be lying which maybe the case but satoru finds out, they were not.

there's only a message of what happened to you. a message from shoko. their closest friend who was currently interning at a hospital not far from the university.

shoko: what have you done you idiots!?

and it was just like that.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x chubby reader #tw bullying

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ethereal-night-fairy · 3 months

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I wonder how Slasher!Soap would deal with a passively suicidal victim. This was inspired by @ghouljams drabble.

Slasher Masterlist

Warning: MDNI dark themes, dead dove, child neglect, passive suicidal ideation, attempted murder, implied horny thoughts.

Exam season is getting to you. The food here sucks. You hate your dorm, all your friends seem fake and superficial. You don't enjoy your course work. The professors here are assholes and your job keeps forcing you to work overtime when you clearly needed to focus on your exams.

You're fed up with life wondering why you even bothered applying to this college major when you knew it wouldn't make you happy. You suppose you always wanted to make your parents proud yet they hardly ever cared. They didn't even bother to see you off when you left. Too 'busy' as they put it.

But you're too far in to drop out now. You've already spent too much money to back out. It always been like this. It's always you putting everyones needs above your own. You shot yourself in the foot this time though. You could've picked something you liked to study, but you didn't. Only because you had a small hope if you followed in the footsteps of your parents perhaps they'd pay attention to you. But you're an idiot for hoping that. It's the same story retold ever since you were a child.

At least you're good at putting up a front. No one ever suspected anthing from you. Not your family, not your so called 'friends'. You suppose you can attribute that to your acting skills. You're good at lying, you're good at masking your emotions. You're good at plastering on a smile to get through the day. As exhausting as it is you can put up with it for now. You're living like a zombie, a put together zombie but a zombie nonetheless.

But it seems that God was merciful. Because you were sent someone who'd finally put an end to your suffering. During a time where all you did was work, study and sleep he promised you everything you've ever wanted. An early grave where you could finally rest.

He promised you he was going to end your life and you felt relieved? Most people would be afraid but not you. No, unlike everyone else you were flooded with an overwhelmingly amount of relief. After so many years of pain and suffering were you finally going to be put out of your misery?

You first noticed him on your late walks home from work. There was someone following you. Someone keenly keeping an eye on you. For the first time in your life someone had taken an interest in you.

Then the notes started appearing in your dorm. Short cute but threatening notes detailing the things he wanted to do to you. Soon after the calls started. They always came late at night when you'd get home from work. And strangely you enjoyed them. Not in some sick perverse way, but just because someone wanted to talk to you. You didn't mind playing along to keep his attention on you.

For once in your life you don't have to worry about anything because you knew things were coming to an end. For once someone had shown some kind of attraction to you. Even if it is just to objectify you. You didn't mind though. Any attention is better than no attention. This takes the whole blame and guilt off you for wanting to kill yourself. No one would blame you for wasting money, no one could technically be mad at you for dying when it wasn't your fault.

And that's what you wanted, a blameless death, one that no one could argue and fight over. If someone else does kills you it doesn't really count as suicide does it? And your parents wouldn't blame themselves because you didn't do it to yourself.

It's perfect. A win-win situation for both parties.

But that's what ends up fucking everything up.

When he finally came to end your life your nonchalant attitude to dying threw Soap off his game. The worst part to Soap is that you're not even horny about the whole ordeal. This isn't a kink thing to you like he suspected in the beginning. Which confuses Soap even more because you were playing the game so seamlessly up until now.

You led him on with your fake pleas for mercy, your fake cries of fear, your fake gasps of terror. But everything was a lie, you led him on. And for some reason that upset him more than anything else. The fact he was fooled playing his own game.

Most of his victims play into the fantasy at the start thinking it's some sort of BDSM scene. Not realising they're actually going to die. He thinks that's mainly due to how handsome he is. No one ever suspects the handsome ones.

And then they end up dying in utter terror and agony. And oh how he loved their screams changing from that of pleasure to pain. Knowing full well they couldn't do anything to stop him. No amount of begging or pleas were able to spare their lives.

While with you, you fully expected to die at his hands and he finally understands now it was you who was playing with him. It was you who was weaving the game and puppeteering him to your end goal. He never had control when it came to you.

You stare at him with tired eyes and a peaceful smile as his hands tightened their way around your pretty neck. The same neck he left a necklace of hickies on just a few seconds earlier. He squeezes down watching your body fight your mind. But there's no rush of endorphins, no blood pooling to his cock as he watches you gasp because there's no real fight in you. You've long given up.

And he hates it. He hates he was tricked, he hates he was made into a fool, he hates your dead eyes. He hates that you look so broken.

Only because it wasn't him that broke you.

So his hands loosen and the colour returns to your face while you look at him confused but more upset than anything.

"There's no fun in killing the dead Dove..." The tiredness re-enters your eyes as you look at him with your withered soul. You looked so done with the world. So beaten down that killing you would be akin admitting defeat to himself.

There's no way he'd allow someone to beat him at his own game... Especially not someone as pathetic as you. He'll just have to breathe life back into you and restart this game in his favour. He'll win one way or another. Even if he has to break his own rules to do it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#john soap mactavish #Slasher!Soap #cod x reader #call of duty #john soap mactavish x reader #soap #john soap mctavish x you #soap x reader #mdni #dark soap #dark content #disturbing themes #dead dove #john 'soap' mactavish #john mactavish x reader #yandere soap #call

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memphisflash · 4 months

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𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰

⊱ word count: 3,9K

⊱ warnings: dead dove do not eat!, stepbrother!elvis, stepsister!reader, reader hates elvis but honestly... not really, reader is a virgin but not completely clueless, ages are not mentioned but i figured reader is somewhere around 17/18 and elvis 21/22ish, very dom!elvis, non-con/dubious consent, strong language, pwp, smut; semi-public, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), forced deep throating, first time penetration, reader bleeding on elvis as he breaks her hymen, he pretty much splits her open OKAY, creampie, crying during sex. MDNI!!!

⊱ authors note: it's kinda short bc i wrote it in like an hour- i was too excited, lol. proof read it once bc the more i read it, the more i hate it, ANYWAYSSS. i probably missed a few triggers here or there, so if i did, let me know! my first darker fic, but knowing how much y'all love the feral stuff, i'm sure it's considered tame to some. ha! anyways hope y'all like, and don't forget to interact- i love reading what you guys think!! <333

⊱ dead dove masterlist | main masterlist

If there was one person you hated the most in the world, it had to be Elvis Presley.

You didn’t even have a good reason for it, you just did. Couldn’t stand the sight of him – that stupid crooked grin that tugged at his lips, which looked way too soft by the way, and had all your girlfriends swooning over. Those eyes that were oh so blue and able to turn a shade darker whenever he was moody. The way he knew how to push your buttons.

Every single time.

He was capable of making your blood crawl, getting you so annoyed and angry at some points where all you wanted to do was cry. You never did, though. Couldn’t let him catch you spilling tears over him because he’d never let you live it down.

Long story short: you cursed the day your mother married his father.

Vernon was a nice man and your mother genuinely seemed happy with Mr. Presley, which is what you still called him despite his protests. And you were a good girl, the perfect daughter – you weren’t going to get in between your mother and Elvis’ father just because you despised the Presley boy.

You were just going to bite your tongue and suck it up… even on this damn road trip that your mother and stepfather deemed the perfect opportunity for the family to bond.

You hated Route 66 for existing. Crossing eight states and three time zones on the backseat with Elvis? Your own personal hell.

“Stop hoggin’ the damn blanket.” Elvis hissed at you as he tugs on the fleece blanket you had draped over your body, while flipping through one of the dozen magazines you either brought from home or bought at the last gas station.

The sun had set a little while ago and you lost interest in the barely able to see view. The only thing you knew was that you were in Missouri, the second state. Six more to go.

“It’s my blanket. I told you to get yours out of the trunk.” You snap back at him, though keeping your voice low as you’d noticed your mother drifting off to sleep in the passenger seat in front of you.

Elvis rolls his eyes and tugs on the blanket a little harder, succeeding in stealing most of it and exposing your bare legs. Before you had the chance to protest, he was scooting a little closer and draping the fluffy blanket over the both of you.

“Where’s the fun in usin’ my own?” He smirks as he pulls it up so it was covering the both of you up until your shoulders, causing your magazine to crumble under the fabric. You scoffed in annoyance and glared at him, blue eyes holding a mischievous gleam in them as they looked up at you, your stepbrother having put his chin on your shoulder.

“Ugh, get off of me, Elvis.” You groaned softly, lifting your shoulder which forces him to pull back a little. You wanted to scoot away from, because why does his cologne smell so good?!, but you couldn’t. Trapped between the car door and his larger frame, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

And Elvis only intensified the sense of being trapped by sliding his arm around your waist under the blanket, pulling you in his side. Grin plastered on his face, he didn’t break eye contact once.

“I’m bored, sis.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“Yes, you are,” He whispers lowly as he grips onto your hip, squeezing it firmly as he leans in a little closer. “Our parents are married, remember? That makes me your brother. Older brother, in case ya forget.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching in your throat. You hated him, you hated him, you hated him… but then why did it feel so good to have him this close to you?

And oh so dangerous. So damn dangerous.

“Your father is r-right there, Elvis,” you whisper as your eyes shift to Vernon, who had his eyes on the dark road ahead, fingertips softly tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was softly playing on the radio.

Elvis chuckled softly, as if to say he didn’t care. And he didn’t. The blanket was covering the both of you completely and it was too dark inside the car to see what was going on. He knew for sure his father wouldn’t take his eyes off of the road.

“All the more reason to keep quiet.” He simply says and you didn’t expect his next move as he slips his hand in the pyjama shorts you’d put on in the toilet of the last gas stop. He didn’t waste any time, obviously eager to get his hands on you, as his hand had slipped right in your panties at the same time.

Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. But it had you gasping softly, the magazine which had been clenching in your hands dropping to the floor.

“Elvis, n-no,” You grab his wrist when you feel his fingertips sliding down your slit, parting your lips for him so he could feel if you were wet or not.

You were, but definitely not enough to get fingered on the backseat of your parents’ car.

He pulls his hand out of your shorts and out from underneath the blanket, holding his fingers in front of your mouth. “Make ‘em wet.”

You look at him, eyes widening as your cheeks flush. Your eyes shift over to Vernon again, who wasn’t suspecting a thing, but your paranoia was growing. Shaking your head at the older male next to you, you keep your lips firmly shut.

“Lick my fingers or I’ll move this blanket away. Now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion. It sounded a god awful lot like an order.

Scared that he would actually follow up on his threat, you slowly part your lips as you look at him, a warmth spreading throughout your belly as you wrapped your lips around his digits and suck on them. He grins as he presses them against your tongue a little, before the wet muscle swirls around his fingers for a few seconds.

He’s quick to restract his fingers out of your mouth and move his hand under the blanket again, slipping into your shorts and panties once more. He raises an eyebrow as he glides his fingers down your slit, opening you up again and feeling you’d grown a little more wet.

The way his fingers were exploring you so shamelessly yet so sneakily in the enclosed space of the family car had your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing wetter and wetter.

You were aware of how wrong this was, yet you did absolutely nothing to stop it. And neither did Elvis – if anything, he seems to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

“You like this?” He whispers as he looks at you, grinning smugly at the way you’re trying to keep your face neutral, lips pressed firmly into a thin line, brows slightly frowned. “Havin’ your brother feel you up in the backseat?”

You huff out a little sigh of air, trying to clamp your thighs together but every time he feels you’re doing it, he pinches your thigh until his other hand finds home on your left thigh, keeping your legs spread enough for his liking. “You’re n-not.. my.. b-brother..”

He laughs softly, making sure his father doesn’t hear it and tilts his head a little as he looks at you. Without warning, he slips his middle finger inside of your cunt, making you let out a quiet gasp. You clench around him instantly, and he smirks. “I think I am. Nah, I know I am and so do you, honey.”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the pet name and you truly hate yourself for being this weak. For liking this, having his finger push into you knuckle deep.

You couldn’t answer him as he started pumping his digit into you, movements still somewhat restricted because of your shorts. But that didn’t bother nor stop him for a second.

As if your body had a mind on its own, you were pulling your legs up a little, feet pressed against the edge of the seat. Clawing at his arm, not knowing if it was to get him to stop or to just have something to hold onto it. You didn’t know, didn’t know anything anymore as your brain was growing fuzzy.

You weren’t all that experienced when it came to sex – only ever having been felt up by a boy you liked during summer vacation last year and he didn’t exactly put it inside you.

Neither his finger, or his cock.

The only thing that’s ever been inside of you had been your own finger and even your own slender digit had been a stretch, not able to fit fully. You were a virgin and here you were, getting fingered by your brother. Stepbrother, you forcefully reminded yourself.

Your virginity was not something you were planning to tell Elvis about – he’d tease the hell out of you for it. At least, that’s what you thought he would do. Either way, you weren’t going to say anything.

His finger stretching you open wider than you’d experienced before was just something you were going to soldier yourself through.

“So goddamn tight,” Elvis grunted lowly next to you, allowing you to hide your face in his chest a little, making it seem as if you were catching up on some sleep. “Think ya can take ‘nother finger?”

No. Definitely not.

“Y-Yes..” You muffle in his chest, biting down on the fabric of his shirt as he shoves his ring finger inside of you as well, making your eyes roll back.

God, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Allowing this to happen. If Vernon decided to look through the rearview mirror or your mother woke up, the both of you would be disowned.

Surely.

You didn’t have much time to worry about it though, because the slight sting of Elvis’ fingers stretching you out has you softly panting in his chest. You were clenching around him visciously so and it has him cursing under his breath.

Neither of you were paying attention to anything else, but as the car pulled up into a parking lot just as the sting was disappearing and you were relaxing a little more around Elvis’ fingers, the two of you were rudely interrupted by a neon light shining into the car as Vernon parked under it.

Elvis moves quick – pulling his fingers out of you and out of your clothing, he creates more space between the two of you and gives you most of the blanket to cover yourself with. He looks at you as he smirks, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of the digits, shooting you a wink as Vernon announces this is the motel they’d be staying at for the night.

If your cheeks weren’t flushed already, they deepened in shade even further and the image of him licking his fingers clean stayed imprinted on your brain as you got out of the car and your parents booked the rooms.

As if God was playing an awful joke on you, Vernon and your mother decided you and Elvis could share a hotel room together.

“To bond. I’m sick of you two fighting.”

Those had been your mother’s exact words – if only she knew what had happened between the two of you when she was sleeping in the passenger seat.

You should’ve known that being alone in a motel room with your stepbrother wasn’t going grant you the privilege of sleep.

Having never seen a cock in your life, other than from seeing it in pictures and getting a general description of it from your girlfriends, you had nothing to compare it to.

But the one that belonged to Elvis was pretty.

Big too, which scared the hell out of you, but you figured as long as you’d keep playing with it with your hands and mouth, he wouldn’t be in a rush to take things a step further.

Laying completely naked on your stomach in between Elvis’ legs, because he’d pretty much tore your clothes off of you as soon as the door closed behind you, your little jerk off session was interrupted by his own hand wrapping around his girth. He looks down at you with a little smirk on his face, guiding his tip across your lips.

You were nervous and turned on at the same time. Nervous because you were afraid you weren’t going to be good at this, but your lips parted nonetheless. Looking up at him, you liked seeing his reaction when your tongue hesitantly licked at the soft skin of his tip when he pulled his foreskin down – gasping softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

He keeps his hand wrapped around himself until you wrap your lips around his tip, frowning a little at the foreign taste of his precum on your tongue but you forced yourself to continue. You squeezed your eyes shut as you concetrated on the task of taking him in deeper, immediately gagging as he took his hand away and you felt his tip caressing the back of your throat.

As soon as you went to pull back, he placed a hand on the back of your head and looks down at you with a teasing, nearly mean, chuckle when he saw your eyes shooting open and widening. “Keep goin’, sis.”

You whine around his cock as his fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you right where you were, and your throat spasms frantically as he keeps you pushed down, not allowing you to move. Tears blurred your vision as they formed on your lash line, unable to stop yourself from gagging.

You couldn’t breathe.

He was choking you with his cock.

Panic settles in your chest and you place your hands on his thighs, trying to push yourself off and create distance, but his grip was stronger. And he wasn’t letting up.

“Breathe,” he cooes, his voice sounding sickeningly sweet but you didn’t miss the taunting tone in it. “Through y’er little nose. Breathe.”

You try to do as he says and he watches you struggle for a little while, the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks and your flushed cheeks making his cock twitch on your tongue. But he decides to go at least a little easy on you and tugs on your hair, pulling you off of his cock.

You immediately gasp desperately for air, a string of saliva connected from your tongue to his cock. You looked at him through the tears, your head tilted back because he was still tugging on your hair.

“Look at that, droolin’ all over my cock.” He smirks as he watches you lick your glistening, swollen lips.

You were even more wet than you were in the car. So damn wet. Rubbing your thighs together to create some kind of friction, you barely recognized yourself as you realised you were actually liking this.

“A-Again..”

“Again?” Elvis raises an eyebrow, letting out a laugh. You nodded, not caring about how eager you seemed.

He slowly lets go of your hair and with a shit eating grin on his face, he puts his arms under his head and gets comfortable against the pillows. “Be my guest.”

It was truly pathetic how fast you’d taken his cock back in your mouth, slobbering all over it like a bitch in heat. But you were so horny that you couldn’t get yourself to stop, even if you wanted to.

This time, you were deepthroating him on your own. Taking him in so deep that your nose was pressed into his pubes, cockhead assaulting the back of your throat. The whole time you practiced breathing through your nose but you failed at times because the way Elvis was grunting and groaning had you moaning around him, which forced you to have to pull up again to get in a breath of air.

Elvis wasn’t complaining. Far from it.

He had you right where he wanted to have you for the longest time now. The whole annoying brother act was just because he’d wanted to fuck the hell out of you from the second he laid eyes on you. The fact that you were his family now sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.

Even though you were surprisingly enjoying yourself sucking him off, practicing your skills, Elvis had you pinned down on the bed before he’d cum down your throat. Something he did not want, because he was planning on filling you up in other ways.

Him sliding his cock through your folds, spreading your slick around and rubbing his tip against your clit had you moaning and whimpering – but as soon as you felt him lingering at your entrance, the nerves were flooding back.

Placing a hand on his chest, you tried to close your legs but it was impossible because he was right there in between them, preventing you from doing so. You widened your eyes as you shook your head, writhing underneath him a little, your untouched hole clenching nearly shut as he tries to push himself in.

“N-No, no, Elvis. ’S Not gonna fit..”

“It will.”

“It’s t-too b-big..”

“Jesus,” he huffs out, grabbing your wrist and peeling your hand off of his chest. He put both your hands above your head and trapped your wrists together with his hand, his other hand moving in between your bodies to guide himself back to your entrance. “I will make it fit. Now shut the fuck up and let me in.”

You try to free your hands out of his grip, but it’s useless. He’s too strong.

Tears form in your eyes all over again as you whimper, breathing erratically as he pushes the tip inside of you. Even that was already stretching you further open, and you're clenching so hard that you were pushing him out again.

Elvis groaned in annoyance, moody eyes shooting you a a warning glare. “Goddamnit, Y/N. Relax.”

“I can’t! I c-can’t!”

“Fine,” he growls as he places his hand on your hip, forcing you to keep still as he roughly pushes fully into you. “Then don’t.”

A sharp pain shot through your body, making you cry out in panic. Despite the fact that you were absolutely soaking, the stretch was unbearable.

“I’ve never.. I’m not.. Never have-“

“Never been fucked before? I know.” He growls deeply as he bottoms out, holding still. At least he was granting you that. “But you’ll like it, baby, believe me.”

You were naive. Stupid, even. Because even though you felt like he was painfully splitting you open right now, you truly did believe him.

It was going to feel better. It had to.

Still holding onto your hands because he didn’t quite trust you enough to know you wouldn’t push him off, he pulled back a little only to slam into you again. He growls a little louder as he feels more wetness engulfing him, slipping out of you and onto him.

As he looks down, he notices a little bit of blood on his cock when he pulls back again. He smirks as he sees you looking down too, his eyes meeting yours. “I popped y’er little cherry,” he hums as he leans his face closer to yours, lips ghosting along yours. “You know what that means, sis?”

Cheeks flushed in embarrassement for bleeding on him, you whimper softly as you stare into his eyes with your own teary ones, finding yourself chasing his lips, wanting to kiss him but he wasn’t giving it to you yet.

“You’re mine now.”

The way he whispers those words against your lips has you letting out a soft sob, crying as he kisses you feverishly.

He starts thrusting into you, hard enough for his balls to slap against your skin every time his hips snap forward, but not hard enough for him to cum yet. Because you were tight, so incredibly snug, he had to force himself to not fill you up prematurely.

He wanted to enjoy it for a little longer.

Letting go of your wrists and hip, he places his hand flat on either side of your head and breaks the kiss, looking down at you as he rams you into the mattress. The headboard was slamming against the wall, probably alerting your parents in the next room to what was happening but he was too far gone.

And so were you.

All you could think about was Elvis and how he was railing you into tomorrow, drunk on his cock.

The sting was still there, but the intensity was wearing off, making way for pleasure.

Pure, raw pleasure.

Heat overwhelmed you, an unfamiliar feeling coiling in the pit of your tummy and you knew enough of your friends’ stories that your orgasm was nearing.

“Elvis!” You moaned out loudly, your nails running down his back, clinging onto him. “I’m g-gonna cum!”

It felt strange saying those words, but your brain was too cloudy to think or worry about it.

“Fuck. Me too, baby,” he growls as he presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes. “Gonna fuckin’ fill you up until you feel it all the way in your tummy.”

You had no idea if that was even possible, but it sounded hot.

You wanted it.

Wanted all of him.

With your spread legs in the air, your toes curl as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. Your back arched and Elvis’ hips stuttered, both of you exploding at the same time.

You milked him for all he’s worth and he paints your insides white, thick strings of warm cum filling you up to the brim. A weird sensation spread throughout your stomach and you wondered if it was because of what he said.

He collapses on top of you with his face hiding in your neck, panting heavily against your skin. You could feel his cum spilling out of you as he pulls his softening cock out and you whimper, shivering underneath him because of your first orgasm you’ve just experienced.

“N-Need to p-pee.” You whisper in a shaky voice, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

He rolls off of you but instead of letting you get up, he wraps his arm around your waist and spoons you. His hand moves in between your legs, cupping your sensitive pussy. “No,” he simply tells you, grinning as he softly bites your shoulder, moving his other arm underneath your head and wrapping it around your throat without too much pressure, pressing your back against his chest firmly. “Keep it inside ‘f ya for a little longer. Don’t be ungrateful, baby.”

You squirm against him a little and gasp as he shoves two fingers inside of your cunt, pushing his cum deeper inside of you and keeping it there.

He was right. Spilling the load he’d worked so hard to release right away would be ungrateful… and that’s something that you weren’t.

You were a good girl, a good daughter.

And a perfect sister to fuck.

⊱ taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @peaceloveelvis @ccab @jkdaddy01 @atrophyingaphrodite @ladelinee

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #stepbrother!elvis #elvis #elvis presley #tamwrites #tamsdove #elvis x fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n

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gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr.

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe.

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss.

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease.

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly.

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times.

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside.

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft.

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ.

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud.

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex.

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #gigabyte writes #insatiable

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taintandviolent · 7 months

Text

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!”

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts.

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you.

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –”

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.”

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown.

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking.

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles…

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together.

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket.

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead.

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table.

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said.

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died.

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness.

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters.

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned.

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly. “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack.

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound. “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard.

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued.

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly.

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head.

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you.

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was.

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go.

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.”

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose.

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over.

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

#fuck it we ball #James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #james march x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #American Horror Story Hotel #myfics

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tightjeansjavi · 11 months

Text

common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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TAGS WILL CONTINUE IN A REBLOG (there are simply too many of you & I don’t want this post to crash <3)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou

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iliketangerines · 6 months

Note

consider the lin kuei brothers growing obsessive over someone and basically imprisoning her?

bi-han is obsessed with breeding the next lin kuei heir, of course. kuai liang thinks the outside world is dangerous and she's safer here. tomas just wants comfort and a big happy family of his own, and the reader can provide both of these! how lovely :)

i think temperature play and mindbreak go lovely with this - go crazy w this prompt otherwise i love reading ur writing

all ours

a/n: mmmmm, dark content my beloved. also, i do NOT condone this behavior in real life

pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, dead dove do not eat, breeding kink, pet play, pregnancy kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, creampies, somniphila, degradation kink, fingerfucking

you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you turn to look over your shoulder

but all you see is the empty living room, and you slowly turn back to stir the food cooking in your pan

the past few weeks, you’ve felt like someone was watching you, waiting for you, like a predator hunting their prey, and you’ve been on edge

you can’t ignore the hissing sound that sounds behind you, and you whip around, wooden spoon in hand

there’s still no one there, but you see smoke rolling out of your bedroom door

you let out a yelp and turn off the stove, hoping that the candle you lit in there hadn’t set anything on fire too badly

you sprint into your room and find nothing there, candle still half-full, and you let out a sigh of relief

but goosebumps trail over your skin, and you turn around and find a tall man standing behind you, masked with feral eyes and gray hair

you try to run, but hands grab onto you from behind and press something against your face

you’re out before you even know it

you wake up with a start, and the world is a bit hazy as you try to blink your eyes open, perhaps it was just a bad dream

you go to rub your eyes and regain your sight, but the unfamiliar sound of a chain rattling startles you awake

you look to your hand and find it cuffed to the bedpost, which you most definitely didn’t put on yourself, and your breath comes out in quick breaths as you pull and tug on the chain

you start to cry, hyperventilating as you realize your ankles are also chained to the bed with little room to move to get off the bed and that you’re completely naked

a slight pressure is on your neck, and you tug at it and realize it’s a collar, like you’re a dog

the doorway to the room you’re in opens, and you try to scramble back as far as you can onto the bed

it’s not far enough as your back hits the headboard and a man with a blue uniform and hair tied up nicely into a bun enters the room

his eyes rove over your figure, and he stalks toward you, eyes not human as he crawls toward you on the bed

you try to kick him to get him away, but he easily catches your leg and squeezes tight, ice forming at the skin and freezing your nerves

you whimper and try to jerk your leg away, ice sending pain shooting up your body, and he lets out a low growl and jerks you toward him

he pins your hands up above you, freezing them in place and you cry as the ice cold temperature burns you, and he laughs at you

he trails his cold hands down your body, admiring the way goosebumps rise wherever he touches, and you squirm as best as you can in his grip to get away

it’s futile, your legs are spread by his hips, and he presses your hips down to stop you from moving

he growls at you to stop, or he’ll do something much worse

a blade of ice forms from his hand, and he points the sharp edge underneath your chin

immediately, you stop and take in shallow breaths as you hiccup and try not to cry as he hums in delight at your compliance

he puts down the ice blade, but it’s just within reach to remind to be good for him

he rubs at your hips and your waist and mutters something under his breath about you’ll bear his heirs, strong boys to lead his clan

you want to cry, scream, fight, but you don’t want to die and so you stay still and let tears drip down your cheeks as your wrists go numb

he trails his fingers down your stomach and spreads open your pussy folds, pressing his thumb into your clit and watching your hips jerk

you try to keep the sounds in, to not give him the pleasure of knowing he was making you feel good, but as he rubs insistent little circles into you, a small whine comes out

he chuckles and tells you he knew you were just a whore, a good little breeding vessel who’ll take his cock like a little slut

you can feel yourself getting wet, and you moan as he dips two cold fingers into your dripping cunt and fucks you roughly on his fingers

he laughs and presses his thumb into your clit, and you start to sob as he brings you closer to the edge against your will

your back arches off the bed as you cum, and your pussy clenches down on his fingers as you coat his fingers in your cum

your head spins as he brings his fingers out of your pussy and shoves them into your mouth, you have half a mind to not bite down and just let his fingers rest in your mouth

he pulls out his cock, and he pushes into you hurriedly, muttering under his breath how he needs to breed you, secure the future of the Lin Kuei, fuck until it takes

you cry as he fucks into you, hips slapping against yours and filling the room with a loud squelching sound

he rubs at your clit, telling you that you’re such a good bitch, such a good whore, gonna fill you up with his seed, have you round and pregnant as much as he can as you take care of his children

you cry as your mind goes blank, and you whine as you go over the edge, he

he grunts as he buries himself deep inside of you and cums inside of you

he stays inside of you, trailing his icy fingers over your body as you try not to think about how you’re stuck here, but your body jerks and twitches underneath his fingertips and keeps you in the present

he starts thrusting his hips in and out of you again, and you whine, saying you can’t please, you can’t you’re too sensitive

he growls at you to take it, and one of his hands go to tug at your collar as he starts fucking into you again

he makes you cum on his cock over and over again, filling you with his seed until you’re just a drooling teary mess and your stomach slightly bulges

he rubs your stomach, mumbling under his breath, but you’re too far gone to hear what he’s said and you pass out as he starts to fuck you again

you wake up, and you’re mostly cleaned up, ice gone

you’re sore and tired, and you quickly fall asleep again and hope someone will come and save you

but no one comes, and you learn that the blue assassin is named Bi Han, grandmaster of the Lin Kuei

you wake up, not completely sure of how many days have passed, but Bi Han has let you out of the chains and explore around the compound as long as you’re on the leash behind him

he brings you to a meeting, body clad in nothing, and you sit by Bi Han’s lap as he waits for the others show

a yellow assassin walks and sees you in Bi Han’s lap, and he immediately complains that you can’t be out, that it’s too dangerous for you

Bi Han growls that you are protected with him around and to keep him mouth shut

a gray assassin puts his hand on the yellow assassin’s shoulder and says Kuai Liang, you should calm down

Kuai Liang, it seems his name is, has furrowed eyebrows, but he listens and sits down to listen to the meeting

you sit silently by Bi Han’s legs, picking at the floorboards as you wait for him to finish up, and he brings you back to your room and locks the door, leaving you alone and chained to the bed

it’s only a few moments later when you hear the door latch open, and you look up and find Kuai Liang and not Bi Han

he closes the door behind him and locks it and crawls onto the bed

you flinch as he touches you

he’s much warmer than Bi Han, much much warmer, so much that it burns, and you whimper at the temperature difference

he laughs and coos at you, saying you’re just too cute, too innocent, that you need to be protected, too pretty for this filthy world

he mouths at your skin as he mumbles the words, and you let him, too scared to try and fight back like you had when Bi Han had first brought you here

he pulls your legs apart and admires your pussy, already wet for him, and he crawls down to place his cheek on your thigh

he places his tongue against your clit, and you whimper as the heat scorches through you

he hums at your small sounds and laps into your pussy desperately, trying to draw out more sounds from you, and he brings his hand up to fuck you on his fingers

you whine at the feeling, fingers thick and hot, as he fucks you slowly, stretching you out for his cock

he looks up at you, and he hums into your clit at the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure

he doubles his efforts, sucking on your clit and humming around it, and the vibrations travel up your mind and make your mind go blank as you whine and cum on his tongue

he moans into your pussy as he moves down so his nose grinds into your sensitive clit and he licks at your pussy to collect your release on his tongue

he mumbles out that you’re so sweet, so good for him, too good for this world, and he dives back into your cunt to make you cum on his tongue, he needs to taste you again

you cry as he keeps on lapping at your oversensitive clit, but he ignores your protests and keeps tasting you and fucking you on his tongue

you can’t think as he makes you cum on his tongue over and over again, groaning into you messy cunt as he grinds his hips into the bed and comes inside of his pants

but he can’t stop even as you start to push against him against all of your training

he doesn’t care, just can’t stop, and you end up passing out as makes you cum one more time on his fingers

Kuai Liang visits you more often after that

and then, the last one comes out of nowhere

you’re sleeping on the bed, cuddling into the pillows as you try to remember the days before, your past life before all this, but the memories are slipping and you can’t remember

can’t remember your home, can’t remember your friends, can’t remember your family, and all the days are starting to blur

and you can see your stomach growing, and by the way Bi Han had reacted at the sight of your plumping thighs and breasts and hips, you know you’re pregnant

but right now, you’re away from the both of them, letting your body rest

until you feel a hand brush over your stomach and something press into your back, hot and throbbing

an unfamiliar voice croons at you, telling you look so pretty carrying children, so so pretty and beautiful, that you’ll make a great parent, so loving and gorgeous as you’re filled with more heirs

he raises your legs up, cuddling into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin as he slides his cock between your folds to collect your growing wetness

he slides into you, and you whine at the stretch, but he kisses your neck and apologizes quietly as he fucks into you

you can’t do anything except take it as he fucks you and shower you in compliments, and his cock stretches you side and full, tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you

you throw your head back and whine as your oversensitive cunt clamps down on his cock and cums all over him all too quickly

he coos at you and tells you that you’re so good for him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you

you clutch onto the sheets as he makes you cum on his cock a few more times before he grunts and spills his seed into you, staying seated inside of you as he brings your leg down and wraps his arms around your ample chest

you sob and whimper quietly as he tells you you’re so pretty for him, for them all, that you’ll give him and the others a big happy family

months pass, they continue coming to your room, bringing you out only if you’re hooked on your leash, and you’re starting to lose your mind

everything becomes harder as your belly rounds and grows plump with Bi Han’s child, and the men grow more handsy, more dangerous and aggressive towards their own soldiers

you cower in fear as they kill one of their men in cold blood for looking at you for too long, and they bring you back to your room and Bi Han stays with you, marking you in his kisses and hickeys

you’re never returning home, and you finally accept it, tears rolling down as your mind goes blank and forgets your past

402 notes · View notes

hidden-poet · 8 months

Text

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

Previous chapter

Chapter 2

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The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dead dove do not eat #tom blyth #president snow #hunger games #Commander snow

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saphronethaleph · 3 months

Text

Perfect Hiding Spot

“I don’t like you either!” Evazan said, getting into Luke’s face to make his point. “You just watch yourself. We’re wanted men! I have the death sentence on twelve systems.”

“I’ll be careful,” Luke promised, as he turned back to his drink.

“You’ll be dead!” Evazan replied, grabbing Luke’s shoulder to spin him around again.

“This little one’s not worth the effort,” Obi-Wan chided, with a genial smile. “How about I get you something?”

Evazan made a keening noise of frustrated rage, and this time when he grabbed for Luke’s shoulder he yanked the young man bodily backwards. Luke staggered back, then fell, and knocked over a table with a clatter.

Every eye in the cantina turned towards the confrontation, and Wuher dove behind his bar with a panicked shout. “No blasters, no blasters!”

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber flashed out as Ponda Baba drew his blaster, and a moment later the aqualish was missing both the blaster and an arm.

For at least five seconds, there was complete stillness in the room.

“...Master Kenobi?” one of the duros asked, in a brittle voice. “You survived?”

He glanced around the bar, nervous. “I thought I was the only one-”

“I thought I was the only one!”

The speaker that time was one of the Modal Nodes, and all six of his bith bandmates looked at him.

“You can’t mean you’re a Jedi?” Figrin D’an asked.

“You’re a Jedi as well?” three of the other Modal Nodes said, before glancing at one another.

Luke raised his arm, hesitantly, then the duros jedi pulled him upright.

“Thanks,” he said. “But, I mean… how many people in here are Jedi?”

Forty-six lightsabers came out.

“In the name of the Krayt, why?” Luke asked. “Why are you all in hiding here?”

“I thought it was the most out of the way place in the galaxy,” Kardue’sai’Malloc volunteered.

That was hard to argue with, as far as Luke was concerned.

“I came here because I heard a rumour that Darth Vader hated sand,” Hem Dazon said.

Fourteen other people said out loud that they’d heard that too, and another ten nodded along with it.

“We’re touring?” one of the bith musicians asked. “Shavit, that’s a coincidence.”

“Who else picked it off a list when they tried to go into hiding?” Momaw Nadon asked, getting several more raised hands or similar manipulators.

“Why are you here, though, Master Kenobi?” Lak Sivrak asked.

“For the same reason as all of you, I think,” Obi-Wan answered, deactivating his lightsaber, because Evazan and Ponda had run away while he was distracted. “To hide, from the reaches of the Empire. This is the one place that Darth Vader would never come.”

“...who’s the kid?” the duros Jedi asked.

“My name’s Luke Skywalker,” Luke said.

“...was your father Anakin Skywalker?” BoShek asked. “Damn, kid.”

He paused. “Wait. How come Master Kenobi needs passage somewhere, anyway? He was almost able to keep up with Anakin, and Anakin was the best pilot the galaxy’s ever produced, by my money.”

“I dislike flying and I don’t currently own a starship,” Obi-Wan replied. “I believe you were introducing me to someone who might be able to arrange one?”

He looked around at the bar. “I may need to ask him how many passengers he can handle.”

“Well?” Stormtrooper Sergeant RF-345 asked.

“No sign of anything in the south sector,” one of his troopers replied. “I’m tagging the doors that don’t open for a later check.”

“Good,” RF-345 assessed. “Second company is moving to secure the docking bays. Watch out for anyone trying to move ahead of the cordon – stay alert for any surprises.”

Then a tidal wave of Jedi came pouring out of Chalmun’s Cantina, waving lightsabers and stampeding in the direction of Docking Bay Ninety-Four, accompanied by a wookie, a kid and a very surprised scoundrel and pausing long enough to pick up a pair of droids from one of the nearby houses.

RF-345 and his squad kept looking in that direction for at least ten full seconds after the stampede had vanished.

“...like that, sir?” trooper AK-707 asked, in a fragile voice.

“Like that, yes,” RF-345 agreed, then blinked a few times. “At least, assuming it was real, and not a hallucination.”

“It might have been a hallucination,” trooper ED-321 conceded. “We have been out in the sun all day.”

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #jedi #the Force is not being subtle today

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leviathanleva · 5 months

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.3k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 5 "The Coat"

“Get away. Get away! Get away!”

As if the radroach could fucking understand you…

You were perched up several feet above the floor, clinging to a boarded-up window so desperately the old wood was about ready to give under your nails.

After roughly two weeks of sleeping on the ground with your overstuffed backpack as a pillow or curling up uncomfortably in the back seat of a rusted dingy car while the ghoul slept in the front, you’d found shelter. An abandoned, crumbling building that used to be a school if you had to judge by what was left of the paint on the walls, the toppled-over and ransacked lockers, and the sloppy drawings. It was perfect for a night of rest; you’d stumbled upon a mostly empty classroom on the second floor in a good enough condition to make camp. You’d even managed to find a stained old mattress stuffed under a desk while scavenging.

Unfortunately, your exploration had caused enough disturbance and soon you learned that the place wasn’t abandoned, it was infested.

The ghoul had reacted as soon as he’d heard the scuttling of the roaches, flinging both you and the mattress inside the room before slamming the door shut before an orchestral of shots ensued. You would have cried in both love and appreciation if one of the damn things hadn’t crawled out from a crack in the ceiling, now you were just crying.

A nasty shiver wracks you to the core when the oversized bug stops vigorously bumping against the corner of the room and dashes towards you. The skin on your knuckles is scraped off as you rip your hand out of the tight crevice between the boards. Your fingers are soaked, wreaking of lavender as you spray another good chunk of your perfume bottle at the roach before it gets any closer.

It hisses and makes a sharp turn, away from the floral scent and back to trying to climb up the wall. Now you were both suffering, you because this was the only bottle of perfume you’d packed, and the radroach because it was choking on it.

Vile little thing…

You shriek when it skitters over to your backpack, lured in by the tasty goods inside, tapping on it with twitchy antennae. The rations, water, everything you owned were in there and your stomach twists with anxiety as your pulse skyrockets. The fact that the roach was trying to discern if it was worth ripping apart the zipper or not made the whole situation even worse.

It was big, ugly and maybe had an ounce of intelligence. Great…

Spurred on by hopelessness, you contemplate just chugging the perfume bottle at it to deter it.

“Get the frick away from there you nasty – ” with arm bent back and ready to fire you screech one last time because maybe it’ll listen this time.

“– The hell you screechin’ like a banshee for?!”

The gunshots cease shortly before your savior-to-be barges in, practically kicking the door open. When searching eyes find you hanging off the boards nailed to the window his scolding expression shifts, eyebrows knit together and his head tilts to the side. The intense lavender smell clashes into him and he waves a hand over his face with a throaty cough.

“What in God’s – ”

“ – Kill it. Kill it. Kill it! Please!” you stammer on, about ready to crawl up the ceiling if it gets any closer again.

At the sound of the door opening, the roach stops vigorously munching on the strap of your backpack and lifts its antennae high. It zips towards the exit, all scuttling legs and fluttering wings, and dodges the ghoul’s heel when he tries to stomp it dead. He aims the pistol as it dashes down the corridor, the barrel still heavy with smoke, then with a dissatisfied flick of his tongue decides otherwise.

Not worth it.

Then his attention is back to you and he rests his hands on his hips, rancorous that a radroach had managed to teach you how to climb while he’d failed.

“Get the fuck down.” he grumbles and stuffs his weapon back in its holster before shutting the door. The adrenaline subsides and you see his feet dragging as he approaches the laid-out mattress. It’s barely noticeable but after spending a decent amount of time constantly in his presence you’ve learned to distinguish the little changes in the way he carries himself.

He kicks the mattress to the wall and plops down with a gruff moan, leaning back and letting the tension sag off his shoulders.

You manage to pry yourself off the window, gently lowering yourself until your feet reach the floor. Wobbly legs guide you to the ruffled-up backpack for a quick inspection; one of the straps is nearly chewed off, hanging onto a few sturdy threads. You pinch the ruined fabric between your fingers, folding it from side to side with a concerned frown.

There was no way to fix this, not without a sewing kit, and despite practically stuffing the entirety of the vault inside the spacious bag, that was one of the few things you’d not thought of bringing along. There was a chance of finding something of the sort once you reached Tillburry, but for now, you’d have to carry it on one shoulder and pray that the one good strap wouldn’t snap under the weight.

“Mind tellin’ me why this place suddenly smells like a brothel?”

You turn to look back at the ghoul’s disgruntled face as he fishes his canteen out of his bandolier. The black expression already has him bracing for the utter bullshit about to spill from your mouth.

“Well,…the bug came out of nowhere and – ” your eyes roll to the side as you try to string together an explanation that didn’t sound bogus. “ – And you were busy with the rest and I didn’t know what to do.” you’re facing away as you struggle to drag the backpack to the mattress, then let out a small, strangled grunt. You sit on the edge, gracing him with enough room to sprawl out if he wants to. The zipper is forced open before your good hand sinks inside, rummaging for a box of band-aids you knew you’d have a reason to bring along. “And I couldn’t just run out cuz the door was closed…So I sprayed it. With perfume.”

You steal a glimpse of him over your shoulder, bottom lip sucked in between your teeth.

The bastard fucking cackles.

“Jesus Christ, woman…” he wipes a few stray droplets from his chin and you wish he’d do the same with that toothy smirk.

“Quick thinking?” you’re defensive and it makes him crack up even more. You scowl and avert your attention back to your provisions, peeking inside the pack with one eye squinted shut. “I had to do something.”

“That’s the best you came up with?”

The teasing makes your throat clench, but you keep your glare pointed down and away from him. He had the right to say whatever he wanted, he’d kept you relatively safe during your journey even if he made sure to be a prominent pain in the ass while doing so. You were a well-mannered lady, stuck to your moral code, and behaved in the polite way you had been taught. But sometimes the ghoul came dangerously close to having you cuss him out.

“Well, I don’t have a weapon, do I?” you snip and once your fingers finally brush against the familiar band-aid box, you clutch it with frustrated strength and pull it out. “I’m not exactly able to defend myself.”

The wasteland might have started getting on your nerves a little, either that or your friendly neighborhood bounty hunter was rubbing off on you. It was most likely a combination of the two. The lack of proper sleep, limited water, the constant blazing sun, you should have brought a hat, the fact that everything and everyone was suddenly out to have your head on a pike, plus his inability to offer a single sentence that didn’t contain at least one demeaning remark in it. Your patience was being tested, you were cranky, but you’d persevere, you were determined to do so.

“Ain’t gonna happen, Darlin’.” he shuts down your vague proposition, his tone dropping a few octaves as he rests his head against the wall. He lets one of his legs relax flat against the softness of the mattress, the canteen being tapped against his other, into the side of his bent knee and in a lazy fashion, an old habit. “Would sooner give my pistol to the radroach.”

“How nice.” you give him a sleazy smile before letting out your pent-up irritation on the squished box in your hand, ripping off the lid and tossing it away.

Your tantrum has him suppressing more than a few nasty statements. He grits his teeth, swirling his tongue around the sip of water locked in his mouth, a niche way of keeping his lips sealed long enough for his dissatisfaction with your passive-aggression. He swallows before smacking his lips once and swishing around the canteen to check how much more he has left, then finally speaks.

“Lose the attitude.” the typical rasp in his voice is smoothed out after he’s finally wet his gullet. He spares you a lingering glance without the usual dominating intensity present – a good way to ask you to quit it because it’s been a rough day, he’s tired and just wants to brood before shut-eye. “Ain’t gonna get you far.”

You comply with a nasal huff and scoot back against the wall before bringing your knees to your chest with a handful of band-aids tucked between your fingers. Your bleeding hand shakes a tad too much and you lay it over one of your knees to keep it steady. The dying sun rays seep past the boarded-up windows and bounce off your torn-up skin, the thin sheet of blood sparkles and it would have been disturbingly pretty if it didn’t sting like a bitch. You pinch the band-aid wrapper between your teeth and tear it open before covering up your first bruised knuckle.

Sometimes you wondered what was going on in that boiled egg head of his. On some nights he was willing to hold a conversation or re-tell a story from his younger days of surviving in the wasteland and they were gruesome but interesting. Then there were late evenings such as this one, where he’d just sit in silence, eyes distant and recalling scenarios that tugged at the corners of his lips when he thought you weren’t looking. You tried not to engage him when he was entranced, instead just scarfing down a granola bar or a few deviled eggs before curling up and forcing your eyes shut. You hoped he’d tell you one day, maybe when he trusted you enough to open up to deeper topics.

Still…

Talkative or not, he was pleasant company, even though he’d tied you to a tree once because he’d mistaken you trying to hide to relieve yourself as an attempt at running away and cheating him out of his caps.

Your lips purse at the memory.

That particular night had been a rather bumpy ride.

Once your scrapes are thoroughly covered you flex your hand, temporarily satisfied with your handiwork. The ghoul takes off his gloves and secures a beaten-up can of peaches from his bandolier, the distinct number of your vault plastered on the front. He hooks a finger around the clasp and pops it open, then his mouth pinches in a snarl. He pulls his thumb away, a shallow gash painted across and hastily filling with scarlet red.

“Shit.”

It was probably your constant presence over the past weeks and your welcoming and quiet nature synergizing with his spiteful and venomous one, but he didn’t spot you leaning closer until your fingers were wrapping your last band-aid over his cut. Your thumbs rub over his, making sure the thing sticks well.

It’s a stab to the heart because he’s aware there is no underlying intent behind your gentle display, it’s who you are – stupid and soft and too much for the world.

“Stupid t’ waste your last one considering is gonna heal in a few.” he means at as a scold, another lesson he never knew he’d need to teach, but it comes out too hushed, his words are faltering. His jaw locks and his lungs give out when you smile so tenderly and sometimes…

…Sometimes he lies to himself that you’ve only ever smiled like that for him.

After that, he sinks into an ocean of hatred, he gives you a cold shoulder, spits venom, and pushes you back at an arm’s length. Because what was a man to do when he kept beating down a stray dog and it kept nuzzling its snout in his palm? You were supposed to break a week ago, hell, even two weeks ago, start a fit and give him enough reason to leave you behind. The only thing he got was a grumpy hiss every so often when you were beyond sleep-deprived and missing a good cup of coffee.

“It’s okay.” you nod in reassurance and settle back. The sweet scent of his dinner softens the stench of lavender and it reminds you that you’ve been starving since early afternoon. “I have enough gauze to last me a while.” you dig through your provisions before scoring a package of saltines.

You don’t ask him if he wants any because he gives you a lecture every time about rationing your food. Instead, you take three intact crackers and dip them in his can. He stops digging his fingers through the mushy peaches and gives you a look, then speaks.

“Already said I’d take ya t’ Tillburry, Sweetheart.” his actions defy his condescension; he gathers a good amount of syrup on one cracker and presses it into his tongue, making sure not a drop is wasted. “Can stop tryin’a butter me up.”

“Hm?” you blink at him, then rush to fetch out a bottle of water when the crumbs tickle your throat. “I’m not, Mister…” you respond after washing down the tasteless saltines and gasping for air. “We’re a unit now, right? And you do most of the work…so it’s only fair.” it’s sincere and he might not see your face fully as you wipe your mouth and then keep it covered as you speak while chewing, but he’s learned enough to know that if you were hiding something you’d rather keep your tongue tied over lying.

Your reasoning sinks into him like the fangs of a deathclaw and he’s a little annoyed because he’s supposed to be the one telling you that:

“You need more food than me.”

Indeed, he does, but he’s a stingy man who’d rather starve a little and keep moving over stopping somewhere and restocking. He’d barely even taken any food from your vault, most of the tato sack was stuffed with Pip-boys and stimpaks intended for selling, along with a few spring water bottles.

The ghoul reaches over, plucking the larger half of your crackers and you have no plan of complaining, staying true to your word. But then he wiggles the lid completely off the can and sets it between you two and you’re suddenly so overwhelmed, but make no noise, afraid that whatever had possessed him would startle and leave. You scoot a bit closer and are the first to initiate your shared meal, dragging a syrup-dosed slice of peach and cupping a hand under your coated saltine to keep from making a mess of the mattress.

He waits until you’re done, avoiding your skin like the plague, but you only see it as a gentlemanly gesture, blind to the hidden war he’s forced to wage every time you come in contact.

The wasteland is merciless both day and night, the fluctuation of temperature’s had you feeling unwell rather often – going to sleep shivering and then waking up drenched in sweat. The sun had been slow in hiding behind the desolate horizon, but once it had and everything was dim, you noticed it.

There’s a nip in the air, it makes your fingers falter around your treat and the syrup pours down your chin before you’re able to properly stuff it in your mouth. You make a squeamish sound and brace to catch the sticky drops threatening to stain your dress, hunching forward to at least have them fall on the floorboards if you miss.

He clicks his tongue and wipes the back of his palm under your chin, gathering up the viscous sweetness.

“Sloppy girl.” he rumbles, self-taught to be unaffected by the cheery thumbs-up you give him because your mouth is too full for a proper thanks. Then he’s stuck as his first instinct is to lick the syrup off, he muses, and his tongue retreats from pressing against the back of his teeth; he wipes it in his coat instead.

The food might have not been enough to sate you, but a shared meal filled the heart more than the stomach, and you were satisfied with just a light snack spread between you both. The wrapper is crinkled up, but instead of throwing it to the side, you decide to keep it and stuff it in your backpack – a warm memory to keep you going when harder times come.

As you dust off the crumbs from your chest and lap he picks up the can and slurps out the remaining contents at the bottom. He milds out the sugar numbing his tongue with the last two sips of his canteen then lets his head roll to the side, whiskey-colored eyes trained on your sprawled-out legs.

“Y’know this gonna rip in another week or so.” he’s tugging at the stretchy fabric of your tights.

“Mm, probably.” you agree with lips curling back into your mouth, then your brows rise as you consider the unavoidable possibility. “But I’ll just fit in better with the folk here, right? So it’s not all bad. Plus, this won’t be my outfit forever.”

“Always the Positive Patty.” he scoffs with a twisted grin and takes off his hat, leaving it on top of his bandolier.

“Someone has to be.” you’re biting back a cheeky smile as you pull out a thin, creamy yellow blazer from the bottom of your pack and fling it over your shoulders. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, Mister…No offense.”

“ ‘M too old t’ wag my tail anymore, Sweetheart.”

The temperature drop adds a tremble to your voice, the knitted top isn’t enough to fend off the nip at your skin, and regarding the fact that it’s still not pitch black outside, you’re starting to anticipate how much colder it will get. There’s no way for the ghoul to light a fire indoors either, there’s no ventilation for the smoke. Plus, despite the room stinking like lavender, there’s no telling how many radroaches you’ll be welcoming by tempting them with a constant light source. You’ll have to make do with what you’ve got.

“How old?” you cheep while untying your boots, then slide them off with a relieved breath.

Regarding all the difficulties and dangers of the wasteland, walking was your biggest enemy. Your boots were comfortable enough to prevent a majority of blisters, but you still suffered from a few. Your feet were pulsing from overexertion and some nights the discomfort was so intense that you had to knead it out of them.

You stretch your toes with a groan and roll your ankles, earning a few satisfying pops.

“Old.” he answers and you have a feeling that’s all he’s willing to give away.

Your shoulders ache as you flex them, skin raw and red beneath the blazer from the coarse straps of your backpack digging into them daily. You’re sore all over and it’s disheartening sometimes because you often compare your struggles to the ghoul who is unphased by everything. Then you’re reminded you’re still new to this and adjusting and he’s a strict teacher who would have no problem berating you if you weren’t living up to his standards. You’re not doing all that bad, you think, keeping things on a positive note because he sure as hell wouldn’t.

You’re about to reach forward and give your poor feet the love they deserve, but freeze for a moment and then turn to the side and stuff your good hand in the pocket of your pack.

“Now where did I put this thing…”

The sun wasn’t just cruel, it was dehydrating, and you were taught to drink water only when on the brink of passing out. You could manage that, but your lips took the most noticeable damage and you wound up having to coat them with Vaseline to prevent them from cracking.

“Ah, there it is!” you pop the cap off and dab a finger inside before lathering your lips and rubbing them together to spread out the greasy substance evenly.

The ghoul rests beside you, eyes sown shut and head dipped low, already succumbing to exhaustion.

You’re a perceptive little thing and sometimes you like to stick your nose where you shouldn’t so when you take him in while silently smacking your glossy mouth you notice that he is in a worse condition than yours. Thoughtless actions are a part of human nature and it’s been a while since you grew accustomed to the lack of personal space since starting your journey with him. You didn’t consider the potential consequences when you tilted closer to him with a Vaseline-covered forefinger extended, determined to give his chapped mouth a hint of relief.

But he’s also a perceptive man and he too acts on instinct.

A startled cry escapes you when you’re flattened on your back, pinned beneath him, and with a knife to your throat.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he hisses and it’s dangerously prickly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” you squeal and crane your neck to the side to ease the press of the blade. “I just thought your lips were chapped and – ” your eyes crack open to find him puffing ragged breaths only an inch or two from you, your arms are squished between your bodies. He catches your wrist when it bends closer to his snarling maw. “ – It’s just Vaseline. For skin conditions. It’ll help. Promise.”

“D’ I fuckin’ loo – ” he tenses when your finger dashes over the ridges of his mouth.

His entire body goes rigid as the wet sensation is registered in his brain and so does your audacity. The fact that you were this brave has him boiling. Who the fuck did you think you were?

There’s unease coiling in your belly as he stares down at you but doesn’t grasp that you’re there. You can almost see the cogs in his head turning and you make a vain attempt at escaping from his hold before he snaps back to reality.

You might have overstepped a tiny bit. Should have complied when he was about to shut down your act of care instead of forcing it on him before he could even finish speaking. Sometimes you forget the power imbalance because it’s not coded in your system that anyone would be unnecessarily violent with a woman. He’s proven you wrong plenty and it still fails to click and you can’t commit it to memory.

He presses his weight on your perked-up knees, uncaring how your feet dig into his stomach, practically forcing you to fold in half. His teeth grit so hard they threaten to crack.

When the veins on his forehead bulge, you know you’re in for a rough time.

“You fucking little – ”

He manhandles you on your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs, and wrestles your hands behind your back.

“Ow, ow, ow. Ow!” you whine under him, wincing when he grips your wrists in place and the weight from your upper body disappears. Then you’re painfully aware of how cold it had become and a chill runs up your spine. You hear the ruffling of leather, then feel the coarse rope graze your sensitive skin. “Wait! No, no, no, no – ” you thrash between his solid thighs and he shifts his position to lock your wiggling legs between his knees. You try to look back but only manage to make yourself choke when your Adam’s apple bops against the mattress. “I just wanted to – ”

“ – Been too good t’ you.” he barks down your protests and once the rope is secured around your hands, he pulls hard enough to make you cry out. “Forgot ya place, Missy?” his tone was biting and you let loose a pleading mewl, but his gestures didn’t soften one bit. He turns you on your side, glaring daggers down at you. “Lemme remind you.” he leans so close you can feel his breath on your ear, hot and cold. “I ain’t your fuckin’ friend. I ain’t your fuckin’ daddy and I ain’t your Prince Charmin’.”

You’re curling in on yourself as he stuffs animosity down your throat. The scarce moonlight makes him look like a fiend. You hide beneath the collar of your blazer, shielding yourself from his scalding eyes and it brings some comfort to your battered mood.

Your doing…your mistake.

Jesus, you’d tipped him over real bad this time.

Over freaking Vaseline of all things…

You’d seen him like this before. It was his go-to façade when dealing with hostiles of any kind, it was him stepping back into the shoes of a merciless, vile creature devoid of humanity. You’d seen it plenty but never targeted at you.

And it was fucking terrifying.

“Only reason you’re alive is cuz you owe me caps.” he shoves you into the wall and your knees collide into it with a deaf thump. “Now keep ya mouth shut n’ go the fuck to sleep.”

Your bottom lip quivers as the dull pain in your knees spreads. Your feet ache, your wrists pulse and your shoulder screams from having to endure your whole weight. You swallow a mixture of ropy saliva and salty tears and breathe extra carefully just so you don’t let him hear you sniffling.

“Had enough o’ you.” he lumbers down next to you, back to back but no contact, and you’re just left shaken up and with a wide-eyed expression.

Once the air settles the chill of the night creeps up your legs, seeping through your tights and licking at your skin until you shudder.

You couldn’t blame his brutish punishment or his harrowing words even if they carved wretchedness into your heart. He’d given you the truth, no sugarcoating, straight and simple. Your safe transportation was business; you weren’t out on a magical adventure. He wasn’t even being cruel, he was being honest and pointedly agitated because you were getting too comfortable. You were the one trying to dazzle him with your charades and big dreams of making it into the wasteland like some fucked-up alternative to Hollywood.

He mumbles something pissy when you shiver for the second time, readjusts, and curls an arm under his head.

The deal was to get you to Tillburry and leave you there for a few weeks, let you adjust and gather up the caps you owe, then come back to collect his pay. You were wrong to think of him as a friend, he’d discarded the title each time you had flung it at him. But it was confusing when his actions refuted his tongue.

“Quit it.” the ghoul warns when you fail to suppress another shiver so prominent it makes your teeth chatter.

“Sorry, Mister.” you manage to say, forehead pressing against the cool wall as you try to steady your breathing and fight off the incessant jitters. “Is just cold…”

He was gentle when he’d eased the stimpak into your calf to save your infected ankle. He used you to lure out hostiles, but he always stuffed you in the safest corner he could find when you were settling down to sleep. He always rolled his eyes when your feet gave out in the middle of the road, but never left you behind. And sure, he was a ghoul, his regeneration and dulled pain receptors were commendable, but he still took bullets for you. You couldn’t be convinced that it was just his job because you didn’t want to be. You wanted him to care.

When another shiver takes hold of you he sighs. You feel the mattress dip next to your legs followed by the rustling of heavy fabric. Another apology is ready to shoot past your frowning lips, a thread of pleads to not kick you out of the room and into the roach-infested corridor on standby. Anticipation has your toes curling and your heart hammers because he’s doing something behind you and you can’t turn around to see. You almost want to cry because you can’t even let the man rest without being a menace.

He’d given you beyond what you deserved, but you were greedy and still coveted for more.

“Gonna be the death o’ me…”

You twitch when you’re abruptly shrouded in unfamiliar heat, a tattered blanket draped over you, covering your curled-up form completely; his coat. A shattered hum is all you can spare.

The faint scent of detergent still lingers, but there’s also something else, a musk, a rich odor that you can’t compare to anything you’ve smelt before. The smell of him. It clings to your skin like a needy lover, merges with yours and marks you up as part of his turf.

He settles back down without another word, away from you, of course.

You inhale deep and slow, let the aroma overwhelm your senses, and shut your eyes at the buzz it causes in your stomach. Your wrists tug at the restraints with the need to pull the coat tighter around you, then you’re reminded you’re tied up, but you can’t be bothered to care anymore.

Hot then cold, sweet then sour. He never sticks to one, always bounces between the two and it’s peevishly perplexing, but it makes his tenderness so much more addicting after a rough tussle.

When you’re drunk and sated, you emerge from the warm darkness, enough for your lips to feel the cold again instead of ghosting against the leathery fabric. Glazed over, heavy-lidded eyes, blown-out pupils directed at the wall, but all your consciousness comes up with is him.

“Don’t want you to be cold, Mister.”

You tuck your feet under the warmth and the blood returns to your numb toes. Your stomach bursts with an alien flutter that punches through you until it reaches your thrumming heart and nurtures a sparkling new emotion.

“Go t’ sleep, Sweet pea.”

Coherence has been slain by a vague opponent, leaving you bare to the current pumping through your veins. Self-indulgent and needy, your knees are used as leverage, sunken into the wall and pushing you away until you find solace in the curve of his spine. The heat emitting from him is even greater than that of his coat and it dusts a hue on your cheeks, slightly darker than your natural tone. The chill stings against your heated flesh.

Your eyelids fall and your nose burrowed back into the comfort of your blanket as you suffocate on his scent once again. It cradles you gently, until your head is spinning and you feel like body and soul are nearly split apart. You’re levitating, floating in a pitch-black sea that’s guiding you into the embrace of slumber.

A steady breath comes from him, he doesn’t move nor protest.

He’s a kind man. He indulges you, lets you wander through a foggy forest because soon you’ll be separated and he won’t have to deal with you anymore. That’s all you need from him and you’re so grateful.

It’s not him murdering threats that has kept you alive thus far, it’s just him being present. Because you’re not just alive, you’re living for the first time and he was there from the beginning.

“G’night, Mister.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 6 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @ one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard @rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #x reader #the ghoul fallout #fallout fanfic

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lustnhim · 2 months

Text

დ︎ “yungen.” — stepdad! elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: request + dead-dove / warnings: MDNI, dub-con, age gap, perv elvis, strained relationship with mother, elvis coerces reader, innocence kink, fingering, oral f-receiving, spitting, breeding, argument (with mom), car sex, daddy in a sexual context, kind of pwp but i tried to have a storyline (it ended up making no sense im so sorry.) / summary: after an argument with your mother, your stepdad, elvis, takes you out on a drive for some one on one time.

Sitting in the kitchen you desperately tried to ignore your mother who was complaining about every small thing in the world. “You never help around the house!” “You’re so lazy!” “Look at the clothes you’re wearing? You should be ashamed!” Any small thing she could pick at you for, she would. You flipped through the pages of your book, finding it impossible to drown out her voice. “You don’t listen either!” She yelled, smacking the book out of your hands causing you to jump. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You shouted, causing your mother to gasp. “You will not use that kind of language in my house.” She shouted, pointing her finger in your face. Standing up the chair screeched against the floor, “I wish for once you’d just leave me alone!” You yelled and heard footsteps approach the corner. “What the hell is goin’ on?” You and your mother both looked over, your stepdad, Elvis was standing in the door frame, his brow furrowed and his expression both confused and infuriated. “She won’t do a single thing I say! She just sits around all day and refuses to help me around the house!” Your mother yelled, “That just is not true whatsoever! She asks me to do stuff and I do it- but she’s never satisfied! Either I did it wrong or I should’ve done it this way, trying to please her is impossible.” You yelled back and Elvis shook his head. “Both of you need ta’ just shut up. This is childish.” He said, obviously aggravated with the situation. Walking towards your mother he placed his hands on her shoulders gently and kissed her on the forehead. “You need to calm down. She’s a teenager, she’s gonna rebel n’ do things you don’t like. It’s okay.” He said, his tone soft and sweet, you watched as your mom’s demeanor instantly shifted, she melted like putty in his hands. It made you sick. He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly, "Why don't we take a little drive, just you and me? Get some fresh air and cool off. It'll do us both some good." The mention of leaving the house, even for a moment, had you nodding eagerly. You watched as your mother shot you a look as the two of you walked out.

Getting into his car you buckled your seat belt and made sure your gaze was fixated out the window. The two of you weren’t very close, they had married about 7 months ago and you kept to yourself most of the time anyways. The car purred to life, and he pulled out of the driveway, the tires crunching on the gravel as he navigated down the road. The silence grew thick, but after a few minutes, he broke it. "Look, I know things haven't been easy since I came into the picture, but I care about the both of ya’. We need to work on our communication, okay?" Elvis said, turning to look at you for a moment before continuing down the road. ‘It’s just…hard.” Seemed to be all you could muster. “Listen yungen, I- I love your mama but she’s…she’s a jealous woman.” Elvis added, making you look at him with confusion. “What do you mean?” You asked, and Elvis took a deep breath not taking his eyes off the road. “She…she don’t really like me spendin’ too much time with you…alone, I mean.” He said, taking a back road. You scoffed and shook your head, “Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, she was jealous of her own daughter. “Why?” You followed up with as Elvis pulled into a small overlook, the sun had already begun to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and blue. Elvis looked over at you and you couldn’t help how he looked…pained. “It’s…hard to explain..” He said, taking a deep breath. Elvis hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words. "Your mother and I, we had our issues even before I met you. And well, when I first met you, she felt threatened. She thought I'd pay more attention to you, and that we'd grow closer, which, well, we are." He finally admitted, his eyes never leaving your face. "And it's not just that, she has her insecurities. She thinks that I'll eventually choose you over her." You looked at him in awe. ‘Choose you over her’ replayed in your head over and over. You were zoned out when you felt his hand on your knee, resting gently. You looked up at him and scanned his face, trying to understand how he was feeling. “Sometimes…I feel like I made a mistake.” Elvis added, his hand rubbing your knee gently. You couldn't speak, any words you tried to muster were caught in your throat.

“You should…you should do what makes you happy.” You finally said, not wanting Elvis to leave your mother or anything- but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as his hand snaked up your thigh and your breath was caught in your throat. “E-Elvis..” You muttered as he stopped at the bottom of your shorts. "Don’t worry yungen…" He whispered, his voice low and smooth. His fingers trailed between your legs feeling the fabric of your shorts, brushing against your them, and you immediately tensed, unsure of how to react. “You jus’ make me feel so happy…” Elvis said, his fingers moving up and down gently. You looked at him, god. This was so messed up. You knew that this was exactly what your mother thought would happen, and you knew that secretly you had hoped for it to happen. Laying in bed when it was all quiet at night, you’d think about him all while trying to fight the urge to touch yourself out of shame. Your hand gripped the side of the leather seat of the car, as his fingers worked over your shorts. “Can ya climb in the backseat?” Elvis whispered, moving his fingers off of you and you quickly climbed to the back of the car. Elvis chuckled softly as you threw yourself onto the backseat. Elvis stepped out of the car and opened the door and got in. Now with more room Elvis placed a hand on your chest, softly squeezing your breasts before moving his other hand up to your face, cupping your cheek he pulled you into a kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth as his hands worked their way up your shirt. He groaned into the kiss as you lay against the car door slowly sliding your shirt upwards. As he reached your bra, he unclasped it, letting your breasts spring free. Groping you he pulled away from the kiss, admiring your breasts. He stared hungrily at them for a moment before bending down to take one into his mouth. Before you could protest his lips latched around your nipple causing you to let out a small gasp. The sight was ungodly. The feeling was so strange but it felt so, so good. You arched your back as pleasure coursed through you, his lips and tongue expertly working against your nipple. When he released it, he switched to the other breast, making you squirm. “C’mon..” You groaned, running your hand through his hair. Elvis pulled away and smiled up at you, “You look so pretty..” He cooed, working off your shorts. Running a finger along the damp spot on your panties you whimpered, embarrassment wracking your entire body. You couldn’t shake off how wrong this was, a part of you wanted to tell him to stop- but you couldn't, your brain was getting all foggy… the pleasure overtaking you almost completely. Pulling your panties off Elvis chuckled gently.

"Looks like someone needs some attention," he whispered, before dipping his head to start kissing along your inner thighs. He spread your legs wider, giving himself better access to your core. He breathed in deeply, savoring your scent, before flicking his tongue across your clit. You gasped and grabbed onto the seat, your head thrown back as Elvis continued to tease you. His tongue swirled around your sensitive bud, sending shivers throughout your body. You could hardly breathe, the pleasure building within you until it was almost unbearable. Elvis noticed your impending release, and he increased the intensity of his actions. His thumb rubbed against your clit while his tongue continued to flick, and his fingers worked their way inside you. In that moment, you felt yourself tumble over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Elvis licked up your juices, a satisfied smile on his face, before leaning up and undoing his belt.

Elvis pulled his pants down, freeing his fully erect cock, and you couldn't help but stare. “C’mere yungen…” He cooed, guiding it to your mouth, gently pushing as you reluctantly opened up to accept him. Your tongue tentatively flicked against the tip, feeling it throb in response. Encouraged by his moan, you took him deeper into your mouth, Bobbing your head back and forth. Elvis's hands gripped tightly onto your head, his fingers burying themselves in your hair. Lost in the moment, you didn't realize how fast you were going until Elvis abruptly pulled out of your mouth. "Wait, wait... I want t-to," you stuttered, wanting to please him, to feel needed. But Elvis shook his head, "No, no. I don’t wanna cum yet, darlin’. He smiled and pushed you back down gently. He positioned himself between your thighs, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. You’re breathing instantly hitched as you looked up at him. “Elvis- I ain’t never…” You stammered, and watched as a smirk spread across his face. “Oh honey…you’re all pure n’ here I am…taintin you.” Elvis spoke and you watched him shake his head, he didn’t even seem like himself at this moment. “Just…be easy.” You said quietly and Elvis nodded. He lined up his cock with your entrance and began to push in. At first, it hurt, but Elvis was gentle, taking his time to ease into you, his breath ragged as he filled you completely. You whimpered, the sensation unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Elvis paused, allowing you a moment to adjust. Once you seemed ready, he started to move, slow at first, but gradually picking up pace. Your eyes rolled back as he thrust into you, his hands gripping your hips. The pain soon faded, replaced by a burning need, a desire to feel more. Elvis leaned down to kiss you, his tongue dueling with yours as he continued to pound into you. A moan escaped your lips, and Elvis grabbed your face forcing you to look at him. “Open your mouth.” He demanded, opening your mouth he put a finger in there forcing it open wider before spitting in your mouth and forcing your mouth shut. “Atta’ girl.” He groaned, his pace quickening.

Your moans grew louder, and your nails dug into the leather of the backseat, desperate for more. Elvis's grip on your hips tightened, his own moans growing more urgent as he approached his climax. "Come for me, yungen," he whispered, the intensity of his voice matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Come for Daddy.” You clenched around him, unintended, but it sent him over the edge. With a loud groan, he filled you with his cum, spilling hot and thick inside you, your own orgasm following just after. Elvis collapsed onto you, sweaty and out of breath. You lay there in each other's arms, a strange peace settled as you looked up at the sky from the car window which had humorously become foggy. Slowly, Elvis withdrew from you, causing you to wince slightly. Zipping up his pants, he helped you to get dressed, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Thank you, darlin’," he whispered before leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You didn't say anything; you didn't need to. The silence between you was no longer uncomfortable, something about how wrong what just happened was felt so…good. Elvis stroked your hair gently for a moment before motioning for you to climb back into the front seat, once the two of you were back in the front he looked over at you as he started the car and shifted it into gear, “You…you can’t tell no one about this.” Elvis said, his eyes seemed worried, but not full of regret. “I won’t-” You replied, smiling at him. You couldn’t slow how fast your heart was beating, how shaky and satisfied you felt. “I love you.” You said, for the first time to him. Making his heart swell and his smile widen.

“I love ya too, yungen.”

ok so i am REALLY unhappy with how this turned out 😭 i feel like it doesn’t make much sense but i’m gonna keep trying to write something i enjoy, i hope u guys like it tho :3

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