#the doves are not dead but they are wounded

[asapeveryday]

noctuary pt.3 - p.b + tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--part two

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings:

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: sorry its been a hot second, i wrote a chunk of this from a hospital bed while i was half delirious so honestly it kinda sucks, even with the editing i managed to do later on. reader in jackson + how we react to the environment will be fleshed out more next chap, ik a lot of u guys were interested in how it would play out.

THE POWER of a name is one that you feel you'd be better off without.

Trees sift and rustle against wind, morning doves coo, water flows from beneath the cliff. The fire's gone out, there's no more crackle, no more warmth. The butt of the joint you shared last night lay dead by your feet.

Her heart beats under your ear, her chest rising and falling with every breath. You can't help but blink in disbelief, once, twice, three times before practically jumping off of her, scampering backwards, staring at her like she's alien.

She stays asleep, lips slightly parted. You watch as her eyelids flutter as if she notices your absence. But she doesn't stir much past that.

You take the moment to calm yourself.

You'd met her two days ago. She'd saved you from being eaten, tested your state, and deemed you savable. She held your backpack for ransom. Used her resources on you, and cleaned your wound.

It took you longer to recall the events of day two, the stalkers that attacked you, the sick-inducing fear, your half-naked swim in the waterfall, the shared joint, the head you foolishly allowed to rest on her shoulder, the questions and their answers.

Those two days were long. Long enough to delude you into being too trustful. You look at her longer, at her pale skin and shut eyes, and realize she doesn't scare you as much as she did the days before.

The thought alone only makes things more dangerous. Not just because of the way your guard has fallen, or the way you've relied on her.

It's because she isn't just she anymore. She's Paige.

It makes her real, more human. More than a blessing born of shitty circumstances. It makes her the girl around your age, the one with stark blue eyes, three siblings, and the incoherent need to be your saviour.

It all leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

It didn't matter that she'd been kind, it didn't matter that she'd stare too long, or lick her lips before talking, or clench her fists at the thought of your mistreatment.

You decide then that she's a fool. A fool for sparing you her sincerity, her soft touch and patience. A fool for wasting her supplies, for doubling her travel time to accommodate you.

You feel stupid for melting for the first person to give a damn. You almost consider grabbing everything and leaving, finding your own way, deserting her with nothing.

But passing up the opportunity to lean on a new community would make you a fool, too.

You manage to tear your eyes away from her at that, getting up and carefully making your way down the cliff. You take your shoes off as you reach the foot of the cool water, instantly flinching at the contact.

You make your mind up in that moment. You'll stay by her side and integrate into her community. You'll express your gratitude, and you'll smile. And then you'll stay the fuck away from her.

As the cold water runs over your feet, you take the moment to stare at your reflection. Your bare, clean skin. Your messy hair, your wrinkled top thats only slightly stained with blood now. Things will be fine. You'll just have to be careful.

When you walk back up to the cliff, albeit shakily, you're met with the sight of her back facing you as she packs everything up. The firewood is gone, the pit barely visible, remenants of food nowhere to be found. As if nobody was ever here.

When her eyes turn to meet yours, she sends you a lopsided smile that you falter to reciprocate.

Finally, she puts everything away and shoulders the two backpacks, hopping to adjust them before fishing something out of her pocket.

"Morning." She hums, voice still raspy. "Eat this."

She places the wrapped item in your hand—another pre-made sandwich like the one she tossed you a few days earlier.

"Thank you." You mumble, and she simply nods.

"Ready to go?" She asks.

"Yeah."

"Good." She grins. "We've got a few hours to go."

--

“Your leg’s holdin’ up pretty okay, huh?”

“Mhm.” You hum, glancing at the wound as you walk. It’s mostly scabbing over, still raw around the middle. It hurts when you touch it, but walking isn’t as troublesome as before. She—Paige—doesn’t have to stop or slow as much as she did the days before.

There isn’t as much talking this time around, and there are no more questions. Maybe she’s gotten her fill of you, asked everything she wanted to know. Maybe it was all out of courteous intent, and since the journey was ending soon it no longer served any purpose.

Whatever the reason, it relieves you in some ways. It means you don’t have to awkwardly hold yourself back from leaning into her words too much. There aren’t any words after all.

Despite that, the silence also seems to disappoint you.

Paige still hauls the two backpacks, and she still turns her head ever so slightly to make sure you're okay, but she walks farther ahead. All you have to look at is the line of her broad shoulders, and the mess of her blonde hair.

“Careful, now.” She says, cutting through the quiet with a subtle glance behind her. “It’s gonna get a little harder from here.”

“I’ll be fine.” You shrug, and she nods in return.

You keep walking, trying to keep your mind off of her. The terrain is changing with every step, trees becoming sparser, oaks being replaced by evergreens. The ground becomes rougher, more uneven. The route she leads you through requires more than walking, you find yourself having to bring your knees higher, push yourself harder.

While you’re left panting and stumbling, she walks like it’s no problem, like she’s done it a thousand times over.

“You good?”

“Great.” You say through clenched teeth, exhaling heavily. You’re not out of shape, but your balance is off centre and you’re trying your hardest not to put too much weight on your left leg. You hadn’t eaten much the past two days despite her olive branch of prepared sandwiches that she keeps forcing on you, so you were admittedly lacking in strength. Still, you didn’t want to keep taking handouts. You threw the sandwich she gave you away again a few miles back.

“Need me to slow down?” She asks.

“No.” You huff, unable to hold down the attitude. You wished she would just leave you be, let you suffer like she had when you first met her, when she wanted to test your endurance.

“Okay.” She raises a brow. You know she can feel your change in mood, but she doesn’t push past it.

You follow her in silence as she hops and scales angled grounds like it’s nothing, backpacks jingling. You wonder if it’s labour that’s made her so fit, or if she trains like many do if they have the resources. Your best friend from home, Caitlin, used to train whenever she got the chance.

“Watch your step.” She cuts into your thoughts, and you watch as she gracefully maneuvers herself off a little cliff onto the ground. She turns to watch you as your feet meet the edge.

“You okay to jump?” She asks, and it irks you further.

You want to say yes, but the jump is a little tough. You might risk opening the wound again, or landing funny on your legs.

“Should I help you?” Paige continues.

“Can you just relax?” You shoot back. “I can manage.”

“I am relaxed.” She snorts infuriatingly. “You had no problem with my help before.”

“Well I’m not bleeding out everywhere now, am I?” You retort, and she simply scoffs, hands gripping the straps of her backpack. Her biceps pop as she does so, much to your dismay.

“Go for it then.” She shrugs, still watching you.

With a furrowed brow, you sit down at the edge of the rocky bed and opt for slipping down feet first rather than jumping. Her eyes stay on you as you carefully lift yourself up with your hands, letting your legs find the proper footing to step down.

It hurts a little, not as much as it would’ve if you jumped, but the dull throb does make an appearance. She notices your flinch, you’re sure she does, but she doesn’t interfere.

When you’re down from the cliff she lets out a low whistle.

“Thank god there aren’t any more of those. It’d take us all day to get there.”

“You could’ve kept walking, if it’s such a problem.” You frown.

She just considers you for a moment. You’re not doing a good job of hiding your newfound discontent. Perhaps she’s wondering about the change of heart compared to your apparent warmth the night before.

If it makes any difference to her, she doesn’t show it.

She just turns and keeps going. And you follow.

Dawn turns to bright morning within the next hour or so, Sun blazing hard on your skin. The weather is hot today, enough to require Paige to wipe her forehead of sweet every so often. Your mouth goes dry a few times, but you don’t ask for water. For once, she doesn’t offer.

The terrain gets rougher and rougher, and it takes you longer and longer to get step to step at her pace. You can feel her impatience radiating but she doesn’t shed a single complaint. For whatever reason, her silence irritates you.

And then the landscape begins to roll and peak. Mountains large enough to block giants fill your sight.

And then you see it.

Large, looming walls, water towers and electrical lines, crops and gardens, buildings on buildings.

It's not just a community, definitely not a camp.

It's a whole damn city.

You can't help but stop dead in your tracks as you peer at the sight, heart already beating fast. Paige pauses ahead of you, turning to see why you've stopped.

Her eyes wash over your expression, every feature on your face. She turns to look at the landscape, and then turns back to you with a small, amused smile.

And finally, she says something that does irk you, but rather fills your gut with an excitable tightening, half nerves, half wonder.

"We're here." She says, stating the obvious with a proud look on her face, "Welcome to Jackson."

—

JACKSON IS a whirlwind of unintelligible things that your brain can’t comprehend, there’s too many things to focus on, and not enough energy in your body.

It’s massive, you can see it even from the entrance she tells you to stop in front of. Weathered adults with salt-and-pepper hair stand guard near the opened doors with rifles hanging around their backs.

The town is lived in and bustling, you can see people coming and going through buildings, children running and playing through the streets. The air smells like smoke and grass, it's not stale or tense like the air you're used to. String lights hang from the banisters that wrap around bars and shacks that line the open road, not yet illuminated.

And then come the masses.

“What the hell, Paige.” Someone squeals, practically galloping over to you and her with speed you haven’t even seen in a bloodthirsty runner.

The girl, with shoulder-length twists thrown in a half-up hairstyle, pummels into Paige like a bull to red fabric, somehow punching and hugging her at the same time.

A large group of women follow close behind her, some running fast while others have no urgency, like this is all a part of routine. As they draw closer you realize they’re all around the same age as you. They barely even shed you a glance, opting to circle around Paige.

“You’ve been gone like, three days!” One chirps.

“We’re lucky she came back in one piece this time” Someone snorts in return.

“You left your horse here again, I swear to god one day you’re gonna be stranded out there.” Another says.

“I don’t like riding much.” Paige shrugs, and you notice the immediate change in her demeanour, the way her low voice rises and her smile widens.

“Please.” A sharp looking girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail scoffs, “We both know that’s not true.”

The group bursts into laughter at that, shrill hollers of ew’s and calm downs! ringing in your ears as Paige coughs out a loud guffaw. Her eyes dart to you, cheeks reddening with both embarrassment and happiness. There’s a glint in her stare, something playful and curious. Eventually, the others seem to follow her gaze.

In an instant, the sharp looking one’s eyes find yours too. Her thick brows furrow in thought, and she saunters up to you with an analytical look.

“You found someone.” She says, still talking to Paige, who clears her throat.

“Yeah, just outside of the forest. Had at least three clickers on her ass.” Paige nods, and her friends all seem to gasp at her words. Suddenly, their eyes feel ten times heavier. It takes everything not to shrink under their gaze.

The sharp one drags her eyes up and down you, catching on your bloodstained shirt and ragged pants, before narrowing in on your wound.

“Damn.” She snorts, “What the fuck made that.”

She looks up at you, eyes wide and expecting, and you realize she’s actually talking to you now.

“Saw.” You say curtly, and the girl lets out a scoff of disbelief, turning to look at her peers.

“Saw,” She repeats, “this girl said she got sliced by a saw.”

A little ripple of mumbling breaks out, and you’re unsure how to respond. The strangers share glances to speak words you can't understand, so you immediately feel out of place and on guard.

You glance at Paige for some guidance, but she doesn’t seem too bothered.

It's only natural--you once had that same solidarity, albeit it was with a much smaller group of people. Those stares are the kind that can't be broken through by any outsider, the kind that spread warmth in your chest when reciprocated.

You'd thrown it all away now, or had it stolen, more accurately. There isn't much more to do but hope that whatever silent words they exchange, they lean in your favour.

“You checked her?” Another asks, a taller, darkskin girl with her hair up in a bun asks.

“She’s clear.” Paige nods. “She made it all this way, didn’t she?”

"Who're you with?" The sharp one continues, "you alone?"

You nod, and she chews the inside of her cheek. "Someone get Geno and Dawn over here." She says, and one of the girls runs off in the opposite direction direction.

A lot more people have stopped to watch the reunion now, and you notice a common reaction of happiness at the sight of Paige, and curiousity at the sight of you. No animosity or cold-hearted looks. The stares, while definetly guarded, are more observing than defensive.

"Did you guys manage okay?" Someone asks Paige, another tall girl with longer, black hair and tan skin.

"I killed the ones that were on her." Paige nods. "We ran into some stalkers in the forest on the way...it caught us off guard, but I managed."

With a small glance your way again, she shrugs. "She held her own too, even with her leg all messed."

It's a simple comment, but her words seem to hold a lot of weight within the group. They drink her information like it's ambrosia, you can see the way it infiltrates their opinion of you. This is her way of putting in good word, and it works.

There’s another mumble within the group, this time one of approval. The sharp one turns to you again, eyes cutting through you like a knife. She holds her hand out after some consideration, and you watch it like it might reach out to hit you.

It doesn’t though, it’s outstretched and open. A peace offering. You take it.

“Nika.” She says.

You nod, trading your name in return.

“S’ gonna leave a badass scar.” She smiles, and the expression makes you feel a little less uneasy. With those words alone, the rest of the group comes running, circling around you like they did with Paige.

“Paige, what’s in that other backpack you got?”

“Yeah, why d’you have two?”

One thing's for sure, their questions are going to make your head spin.

--

PEOPLE IN JACKSON are nothing like what you're used to, and you realize quickly that if Paige's kindness is dangerous, you're gonna be in for a lot more trouble.

Dawn and Geno are older, rugged around the edges with warmth you can feel festering beneath their tough exteriors. They drill you with questions until they're satisfied with their responses before leading you from building to building.

One for a medical checkup--doctors are rare, but experience has given people enough knowledge to help around the place. Three people poke and prod at your leg as well as any other blemishes and scars you bare while Geno mumbles aside to Paige, who's suprisngly still tagging along.

"You don't have to stay." You hear him say, and you don't hear what she says in return but you know she doesn't leave. She watches as people ask you questions while they apply ointments and bandages. You try not to notice, or care.

Geno leaves once that's finished, leaving you with Paige and Dawn.

Dawn, a worn but wise-looking woman, takes over from there. As she leads you through the busy roads of Jackson, you can feel Paige occasionally glancing over at you. You don’t turn to meet her stare.

“We work through a bartering system for the most part.” Dawn says. “But a lot of it is based off how much you contribute, too. What you give, you get back in equal amount, more or less.”

“What’ll I be doing?” You ask.

“Whatever we find that fits you.” She smiles. “You can work in the bar, the green houses, the shops. You could go on patrols like Paige and a few of the others, though I doubt you’re eager to be out there again so soon.”

She doesn’t give you much time to answer, her eyes sliding down to your leg and back up again. “You’ll have time to rest up before you have to make a choice though. Just take things as they come.”

It’s easier said than done. You can tell just by brushing past these people that here’s an avid gap between you and them, it’s too soon to know what that gap holds, exactly, but you feel it. Maybe it’s the sense of belonging, maybe something deeper, less solvable with time.

Still, you try to perk up. You shed a laugh when two kids run into each other head first, too busy gawking at Paige and Dawn to pay attention. You try not to shy away from any stares or whispers that graze your skin as you pass. You admire the wooden houses and stores, some run down while others have been coated with fresh paint in warm hues.

Eventually Dawn stops walking, turning to you and Paige.

“Show her the important stuff.” Dawn says to Paige. “Then take her to her place.”

Your ears perk at that, but you manage to keep your interest under wraps.

“Yes ma’am.” Paige smiles, and Dawn flicks the girls shoulder. “Don’t get smart.”

With that, you’re alone again with her. She’s got this natural brightness to her now, like she’s exactly where she wants to be. She starts walking again, nodding for you to follow, and you do.

“This is The Clay Pit.” Paige points to one building. “Best barbecue in town.”

“And that one’s Nubuck Leather.” We get our good leather from there, they do us miracles for winter clothes too.”

You nod politely, eyeing every building her finger points to. You can feel the smile in every word she says, like each location reminds her of some fond memory.

“Main Street is where we get our clothes.” She motions to a large building, wooden exterior painted blue. “Mostly through trading. Gets harder and harder to find new stuff these days.”

You nod again, looking around the town square till a larger building catches your eye. It’s built interestingly, with a white circular roof over the entrance. The white panels have words on them, surrounded by blinking lights.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah.” Paige hums, following your gaze. “That’s the theatre.”

“Theatre?”

“Yeah. For movies.”

“Like…for real?” You gape.

Paige falters for a moment, searching your face in disbelief. “You haven’t heard of a movie?”

“I have.” You snort. “Just never watched one. Didn’t think we could anymore.”

“We can.” Paige says. “We only have a few that still work, but it’s great. The theatre is a good spot to hang out too.”

“Hang out?” You raise a brow.

“Yeah.” She winks, holding her thumb and index finger pressed together and towards her mouth, mimicking an inhale and exhale. “If you know what I mean.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes. “About that. Dawn said that what people give here, they get back. What exactly does one get for contributing drugs to the community?”

“Glad you asked.” Paige hums, smiling slightly. “It’s already taken care of. Look we’re almost here.”

The buildings are different now, a little wider, more shabby on the outside, more uniform. There’s bigger spaces between them, and a lot less people running through the gravel roads. You realize these are houses.

Paige checks each one out carefully till she stops in front of one with a grin. She sidesteps, motioning you to walk ahead.

“Go on.” She smirks, and against your better judgement you obey her.

As you push open the rusted red door of the house, you’re met with the sight of a bigger space than you expected. It’s two levels, living room and kitchen on the first floor while the basement narrows into a small bedroom and bathroom. You can see from your spot by the door that there are people downstairs, chatting and laughing idly.

“S’not much, but it’s more than most newcomers get when they come here.” Paige hums from behind you, shutting the door.

“This is where I’m staying?” You ask, wholly bewildered. For a moment you think it’s some sort of trap, a gaping hole in your stomach beginning to form as you take a 360 glance around the place, bare but alive and breathing.

“Sure is.” Paige nods. “N’ that’s not all.”

She grins with excitement as she heads down the short flight of stairs, and you follow soon after her. Your bedroom is filled with more things than you expected compared to the first level, the bed has mismatched sheets and the walls have hastily stuck posters.

There’s also a lot of women in your room.

“She’s here!” Nika smiles, coming over to you with an armful of clothes. “I got you a decent amount for now…a few thermals for when it gets colder, new pants, shorts for home, oh- and a lot of flannels. You’ll fit right in with those.”

You’re still in a daze as she plops the mountain of clothes into your arms.

One of the other girls smiles at you—the one with half up hair who ferociously pounced on Paige—as she sets down some rolled up posters against the wall of the room.

Many faces turn to smile at you, some even say your name. You don’t know if you want to go crazy and accuse them of something, or break down an cry.

You opt for setting down the clothes instead, and sending Paige a very wary look.

She picks up on your discomfort immediately, rubbing the back of her head with a subtle nod. “I’m gonna show her something outside real quick.”

The others nod, or call out words of acknowledgment, too engrossed in the decoration of this bedroom. You dart up the stairs fast, Paige close behind you, and practically bolt out of the door.

The fresh air should refresh you, but the new smell of sweet smoke and healthy grass throws you off. You sit shakily on the front porch of the house, rubbing your eyes with your hands.

You used to go outside a lot. You shared rooms back at your old community, they were suffocating and loud. People fought all day, fought all night. You spent many nights outside, sometimes it felt safer. The air was cleaner, colder, enough to distract for the thick, sweaty feeling of deliberate hate and frustration under the covers you shared.

Paige sits beside you, not saying much. She lets you breath in and out, waiting patiently as you recall everything before in an attempts to deal with the now. When your hands part from your face, she finally sets her eyes on you.

You feel pierced by them again, they’re so light, so trained on your face.

“Too much?” She asks.

“Too much.” You nod. “The whole thing is mine?”

“This is your house.” She says. “That’s your room. This is your front yard.”

“I don’t need a front yard.” You say sullenly. “Or a living room. Or any of this.”

“You don’t need it, but you can have it anyways.” Paige says quietly. “Living here isn’t about necessity. We have everything we need. We’re allowed to be a little greedy, or really, we earn it.”

“What exactly did I do to earn it?” You bite.

“The minute those girls found out about what you brought for us, they weren’t gonna let it be any other way.” Paige snorts. “We haven’t sparked up in ages, Dawn n’ Geno are crazy about patrollers being on that shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s tough love. Anyways, they insisted that you live close to most of us. We haven’t had a newcomer who is around our age in over five years, just forty year old men or the odd little kid. They’re pretty excited. They wanted to decorate your room too, they each brought something of their own to liven it up, Nika practically handed you half her wardrobe.”

She keeps saying they. They’re so excited, they wanted to help. You finally turn to look at her, and you catch as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“What about you?” You ask.

“Me?”

“What do you think about…all this?” You mutter.

“I think this place is gonna be good for you.” She says, a sideways grin breaking out onto her face. “And that we’re all excited to have you.”

Your stomach tightens familiarly as she says it, as her lips quirk upwards, as her eyes glint mischievously. You feel your guard slip again, you feel your common sense waltz out.

You straight up before you can get too comfortable, recalling what you promised yourself before you reached here.

“Thank you, Paige.” You say with a smile, and you mean it. “I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m grateful.”

“Don’t be. Anyone would’ve done it.” She smiles, finally breaking away from your stare as her cheeks flush slightly.

She sits beside you for a bit longer, and both of you watch the sky as it begins to darken. It was morning when you arrived, but now evening is approaching, and dark clouds are rolling over the sun.

You wonder if you’ll be able to manage. If these girls are as nice as they try to be, if you were better off alone in the wilderness, or as clicker feed. You wonder if it’ll be easy to avoid Paige in a town this tight knit.

She gets up first, stretching her legs with a huff before turning towards you, hands on her hips.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Good.” She nods, giving you a once-over. “I’ll see you around then?”

You falter for a moment. She’s going away, presumably to her own shabby home somewhere around these parts. It’ll be the first time you’re apart from her in days.

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing tersely. “See you around.”

She turns with a grin, and you watch her walk away as the sky continues to darken. It starts to rain after a few more moments, after she’s of sight.

-

YOU LAY AWAKE in your new bed. The mattress is creaky, the sheets cold around your limbs. Your room is full of posters from movies you haven’t watched, and basketball stars you don’t know. Little trinkets glint against the slight light from the moon.

You'll stay by her side and integrate into her community. You'll express your gratitude, and you'll smile. And then you'll stay the fuck away from her. That was what you decided on, back at the waterfall.

You fall asleep with that plan in mind.

—tags

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld

[freshllamapeace]

Till the sun burns out

Remmick x reader

I posted the snippet earlier this week this is the finished product!

Warning - Dead dove do not eat, Gore, Noncon/smut, this is a rough read so you have been warned, probably not my best written smut if I'm honest

Stupid, pathetic, maybe even… desperate. The words described you well enough, wouldn’t you say? A lonely girl with nothing better to do than throw her life away. You do this because you think you're special, you think you're destined for greatness, You think one day you're gonna wake up and be the main character but you aren't. I mean how could you when you’re not even the main character of your own story. You aren't special, you aren’t destined for greatness. The only thing you're truly destined for is to die in this forest. Body broken and mangled while he loomed over you. 

It was clear you were going to die here. No way you get out of this, worst yet you could see the white walls of the house where you grew up in, the soft porch light admitting a warm welcoming glow. If you could have run a few more feet you'd be home safe. But you were just shy of that and he revelled in that. Walking circles around you like a wolf who had just cornered his prey. You hadn't even known what you'd done wrong. What made you deserving of this treatment but it didn’t matter, not anymore. 

Your leg was broken, the bone splintered in half, a jagged end poking out through the skin where your knee was meant to be. Blood leaking down the wound onto the forest floor. Your left arm was gone, ripped apart. The only evidence of it ever being there being the blood and tendons that leaked out of your bicep. The pain was unbearable, indescribable it ached everywhere. You could do nothing but cry and scream. Even your stomach suffered some blows, a large laceration planted diagonally through your chest, your internal organs threatening to spill out. The palm of your right hand was degloved, a sea of red covering the skin that was once there, tendons and muscle clearly on display for you to see. If you’d looked long enough you’d even be able to see the muscles moving, slow and concise. 

Grabbing you by your hair you were lifted from the ground and pressed into the cruel bark of a tree. A screech moved past your lips as broken body parts started to move and bend. “I told you, didn't I? That we’d make sweet sweet music together.” He pressed his mouth against your ear, hot breath assaulting your skin. “I ain’t say how but you were so eager… I ain’t wanna spoil the surprise for ya.” Using his body to keep you stationed against the tree Remmick started to fiddle with his belt. Taking his time to remove it, his eyes stayed stationed on you. Red like an amber sea and teeth glistening in the moonlight, it had been ages since Remmick had played with his food to this degree. Kissing your neck, Remmick allowed his pants to fall to his ankles, his cock in hand. 

“Please, you don't have to do this.” You cried, the cherry colored fluids dripping from your lips onto his chest. Remmick smiled, a smile he often did. It was mocking, cruel and yet the smile looked almost kind… almost. “I know little dove. ” Remmick wasted no time lining himself with your cunt. Pressing his body further onto you, you heard the sound of something stabbing into fresh. It was your bone piercing into his stomach. “Fuck.” He moaned. “You get me all hot and bothered looking like this.” Your gored body turning him on. He was disgusting, a freak of nature. Slamming himself inside you, Remmick gave you no time to prepare before setting the tempo, thrusting at a rough and savage pace. Remmick paid no attention to the bone that pierced his flesh with every thrust. Blood leaking down the wound he had created. Moving his hand down your body Remmick started to play with your clit. The rough circular motions pressed into your skin. You were in pain, your body was aching, the wounds burned and yet your body still reacted to the orgasm forced onto you by him. Your nails digging into his shoulder as you held onto him . You were trembling beneath him, breathing heavy, eyes half lidded. The blood loss was going to catch up with you, soon rather than later. “Fuck.” He groaned, his breathing uneven and his thrust getting impossibly quicker. “Don’t die yet darlin’ I'm almost there.” He whispered in your ear. “There ain’t no God above but if there was he made you just for me.” Soon his thrust started to stutter and slow, his nails began to dig into your skin creating new wounds on your broken body. A groan leaves his lips as he releases all his love and affection into you, the white liquid carrying a red tint to it. Not quite ready to pull himself out of you Remmick thrusted a couple more times making sure that you were filled with every last drop of his cum. 

“I'm going to break you over and over again.” Far too tired and dying from the blood loss the words didn’t register in your mind as anything other than gibberish. But what did register was the sharp pain you felt in your neck and the way he licked at the wound lapping up the blood. When he was done he allowed your body to crumple in on itself, you dropped to the floor. The world went black.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ‼️ ⚠️

* I saw this photo and immediately had a vision from God. Or Satan. Or both. You can decide. *

Dark!Steve Harrington x Reader | Age gap (Steve is in his mid to late 30’s, Reader is 19 or 20) Kidnapping, use of restraints, masturbation, noncon, Steve is messed up af, degrading language used for Reader

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

Oh this Steve… He’s a bad one. The Steve who knows he peaked in high school, and resents anything that reminds him of it. Especially a pretty young girl like you, who he could easily have had wrapped around his finger (and his dick) back in his ‘King Steve,’ days, but now? You barely even look at him when you take his order at the diner. It’s like he’s just another customer, like he isn’t special. Steve misses being special. He knows he’s the local town failure, the guy so many people believed had a bright and successful future ahead of him, who wound up spending his days and nights renting VHS tapes to locals instead of making deals on Wall Street like he could have. Like Steve should have.

Instead, he shows up at your diner every chance he gets, which is often, since Steve is always alone. He insists on being seated in your section every time in hopes that one day, you’ll finally realize how much he…values you. But Steve’s tired of hoping. He’s given you more than enough hints, more than enough time to come to your senses and invite him into your body. And if you won’t invite him, he’ll invite himself.

Usually Steve drives home straight after finishing his food and beers. Alone, as always. He tries to resist the temptation to play with himself on the drive home (because what kind of fucking loser lets a dumb bimbo waitress get to him like that??) but Steve rarely succeeds. He unzips his fly and massages his cock on the drive home, imagining your lips around its outline instead of his hand. That’s how it should be, how it would be if you weren’t such a goddamn tease. If you actually put out like your mannerisms promised. Your flirty little smiles always give you away to Steve. The way you balance your elbow on your hip while you’re writing down his order, subtly accentuating your breasts… It’s clear to Steve that you want him, even if you’d never admit it even to yourself. It’s why you pretend not to want him, Steve realizes. And maybe you’re just too dumb to know what’s good for you, anyway?

So tonight, he did something different…something he shouldn’t have. Rather than edge himself to you on his drive home, Steve opted for having the real thing. He waited till your shift ended, leaning against his car in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. When he called to you, his voice seemed vaguely familiar. “Oh!” you’d smiled, a bit surprised. “Mister Harrington. You’re…still here?”

Steve’s lips quirked into a grin. “So…you do know me,” he’d said, glancing down at his cigarette before bringing it back to his lips.

“Um…I mean, sure,” you replied, still trying to be friendly. “You’re one of my regular customers, after all.”

Steve’s smile fell, his eyes darkening. “Is that all I am to you?” he’d asked. “A customer?” His expression told you something was very wrong, and you tried to make a quick dash for your car. Steve was quicker.

His hands were around you in seconds, pulling you against him. “Shh, shh,” Steve had whispered, his palm clamped over your mouth. “Everything’s gonna be different from now on, understand? I’m in control. Your job is to serve me, remember? Isn’t that what you do for your customers?”

He’d pulled you into the backseat of his car, the same burgundy BMW from his glory days. Except unlike then, the girl in Steve’s backseat wasn’t there because she wanted to be. She was gagged with a towel stuffed in her mouth and bound at the wrists by duct tape.

Steve positioned you on your side and taped your ankles together as well, completely restraining you in the fetal position, knees pulled into your chest. He’d slammed the door and walked around his car, shaking the tension from his body with a heavy sigh. You watched through the window as Steve opened the driver’s side door and slide behind the wheel. “We’re going for a little drive,” he’d told you, his voice uncomfortably calm. Steve turned his key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Tears rolled down your cheek and onto the backseat as he pulled onto the main road, and drove you to his home…

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

Steve’s house was unremarkable, small and sparsely furnished. Empty fast food containers and beer cans littered the first room he led you through, followed by a trip down his hallway. The house was dark, and cold. It was hard to believe anyone would choose to live in such a depressing home, but when Steve pulled you downstairs to his basement, things went from grim to terrifying.

Against the far wall, facing the stairs, two thick metal chains were bolted into the cement floor. A little blanket was sitting in between the thick metal cuffs at the ends of the chains, as if prepared for someone. Prepared for you.

“No-no-no-NO!” you screamed, bucking against Steve as you tried to twist out of his grip. He was much stronger but you put up a considerable fight, bringing your elbow into his ribs with a sharp crack! Steve cursed and threw you forward against the wall, your feet rustling the chains on the ground. You tried to run past him for the stairs but once again, Steve’s movements were too quick for you to evade. He used his size over you to pin you against the wall, your cheek scratching against the rough cement. Behind you, Steve gathered up the metal cuffs and locked them around your wrists. After restraining you, he backed away breathless to the stairs, wiping his hand across his forehead as he sat down on the bottom step. Watching you.

“You didn’t-ahh-,” Steve hissed sharply as he massaged the wound you’d made in his ribs. “-You didn’t have to get so emotional…Could have gone a lot easier, all of this-.”

“FUCK YOU,” you spat at him. The chains attached to your cuffs clinked as you tested them, yanking furiously against their hold. “That’s not gonna work,” Steve informed you, but you couldn’t hear him. You were too focused on ripping those bolts right out of the wall, and for a moment, you really thought you could. But soon enough, reality sank in and you knew it was useless to fight. You needed your strength, and wasting it on these goddamn restraints was foolish.

“You make a pretty victim,” Steve said softly, almost timidly. “It suits you, much better than being a waitress did.” A tear rolled down your cheek and you tried to stop it, not wanting to give Steve the satisfaction of seeing you cry anymore. He stood and walked over to where you were now seated against the wall. Standing over you, Steve looked ten feet tall, the singular light behind him casting a menacing shadow over his features. “But you’re still waiting, aren’t you?” he asked. “Not tables, not anymore. Now, you’re waiting for me…wondering, what is Mister Harrington gonna do next?”

Steve knelt to your level, reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinched when his skin made contact with yours, expecting more violence. But he stroked his fingers along your skin in a way that was gentle, in a way that betrayed his previous aggression. “Maybe you won’t mind waiting on me one last time?” Steve asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He rose back to a standing position, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt. Your eyes followed Steve’s fingers as they unzipped his fly, unable to look him in the eyes. If you had, you would have seen the exact look you feared, the hollow, hungry gaze of a man who had abandoned anything resembling reason in favor of satisfying his own lust. He pulled out his cock and stroked himself over you, his breath once again hitching as it had during your struggle. “There’s only one customer here, honey,” Steve murmured down at you, tugging his cock, his messy hair fallen over his forehead. “Can’t get out of waiting on me this time, can you?” He smirked, a breathy chuckle leaving his throat. “Which really sucks for you,” Steve continued. “Because tonight, I have a big order to place…”

You swallowed as he leaned forward and tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes on his. A bead of precum dripped from the head of Steve’s cock and landed on your chin, making you flinch. “But don’t worry,” he added softly, his voice darkly seductive. “You know I’m a good customer...” Steve dragged the head of his cock across your lips, parting them. “…and tonight, I promise I’m gonna give you the biggest tip you’ve ever had…”

[mullermilkshake]

Now it's a party

There's a first for everything.

Atsuya Kusakabe x Fem! reader DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Non con,Stealthing,Breeding,Drunk sex,Bathroom sex,Creampie,Vaginal sex,Drunk sex,Throat grabbing,Taking advantage,Stalking,Harassment

<<< For more dark content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“Oh fuck!” Your moans and exclaimations over the loud thumping beats was music to Atsuya’s ears. He loved it. 

He loved you. 

How you ground against his crotch in an intoxicating stupor, holding his hands to pull him closer and leave no ugly gap between you. How your hair hung just past your eyes in a sultry temptation to coax him closer was positively on purpose. 

That’s how it happened. One glance across the room not even an hour in to the party, you hadn’t moved from the corner where you perched yourself upon the single barstool. Plenty of people came to speak with you, plenty that Atsuya hadn’t seen in months. Friends, work colleagues just as interested in what you had to say just like he was. But it took time for him to work up the courage just like always. 

Then you looked around the room looking at each of the four corners. Looking for who? Him? Atsuya hadn’t left the room since arriving. You were finally giving him attention. 

It all evolved into something more sensual, erotic and now he was here, fucking you over the narrow basin in the even narrower bathroom aboard Satoru Gojo’s boat, the ‘Hollow Purple’.

“I’m close; I’m so close.” You clenched around his cock, shoulders bare to tempt him to bite down, to fight the urge to come just yet. He didn’t want this to end. To never end. 

This was your first time even entertaining him, let alone fucking him. “I don’t normally do this.” You���d said, nipping his bottom lip as soon as the bathroom door was closed promptly. Outside of the boat, you and he never really interacted. Well, barely only exchanged a hello and goodbye when you came to visit your friend, Shoko Ieiri. 

But Atsuya knew far more about you than you realised and took pride in understanding you as a person behind the scenes. 

He positioned you better, hand caressing the base of your neck and bent further over the basin almost against the steamed up mirror. You felt so good, amazing. Skin on skin almost, just your lace panties between full on ball slapping sounds in the tiny room. 

Experiencing this heaven, you coming onto him and palming his cock in the bathroom was still as surprising as waking up to snow in August. But Atsuya tried to throw that dick stopping thought to the back of his mind to avoid overthinking and loosing his rhythm. 

Still, he couldn’t lie to himself and think this behaviour didn’t concern him by how easily you threw yourself at him. Of all the times you chose to fully acknowledge him, you chose to be under the influence when he had been trying for so long to get you to notice him. Bouquets of flowers, letters and hung up phone calls. You didn’t bite at all and never asked about him when visiting his work place. 

If he’d have known all it took was to introduce alcohol, he would have done it two years ago. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have to compete with Satoru Gojo for your affection. 

It wasn’t that you were interested in him that bothered Atsuya, it was because of a well known fact that Gojo was giddily interested in you. Plenty of people rolled with it and coupled you with him just to remark at how ‘cute’ the two of you were. 

Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. It just made him sick.

But Atsuya digressed, still balls deep inside you when you took his hand and interlocked your fingers with his, it was more romantic than it should have been. He liked that.

You were getting him closer to finishing and he tried so hard not to let it, foolishly thinking of anything else just to keep himself in the ledge a while longer, a thing he would regret instead of living in the moment that he finally had you within his grasp.

Atsuya had deceived you, intoxicated you, that he had put a condom on too, a condition you had been adamant about despite how drunk you were. He almost laughed with a grin with how little it took to convince you that this fuck was protected.

Like hell was he going to miss this opportunity. 

He groped you with his free hand, caressing your breast and pinching your nipple through your cover up over your pulled down bikini top. He wished he could make you flinch like that all day. Then he moved his hand up over your chest and enveloped your throat, head hooked over your shoulder to whisper sweet nothings you couldn’t actually hear. But if you did, you didn’t react to them. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful…”

“Feel so good around my cock…”

“I’ve waited so long for this…”

You responses were self indulged. “This feels so good, I’m gonna come, make me come; come with me.”

With you? Now that was one hell of a request that he could fulfil. Your muscles contracting would milk him for all his worth anyway and there wasn’t much point in fighting for much longer if he really thought about it. Would you feel his seamen drip down your leg when he filled you up? Would you even notice? He hoped, wished and prayed you wouldn’t. He was unaware of your status with contraception, but the thrill of the possibility turned him on more than ever. 

So risky. So permanent. 

“I’m coming; fuck!” What if he got you pregnant? What would you do with your future so that Atsuya was in it? Gojo definitely wouldn’t stay inclined to pursue you with a child involved. 

But Atsuya would. That would be his own child and he would do everything to provide for you even more so than now. And right now he wanted to give you the world.

“Shit.” Atsuya but his lip to stifle himself even though you were far louder and someone must have heard. 

If he hadn’t bitten himself, his teeth would have marked your shoulder, and as irresistible as it sounded, he didn’t want to harm you and ruin the moment. But he wanted to show everyone who was between your legs, to see the dribble fall down and on to that stupidly pathetic expensive rug Gojo bragged about.

He came deep and hard, a weeks worth of pent up sexual frustration and edging inside you to ensure you got the most out of him. The loud thumping continued, thump, thump, bang. Thump, thump like his heart jumping from his chest resting against your back and he held you, braced against the basin. 

Then it was over just like that. He wanted it all over again tenfold. 

No words but your heavy breaths and sweat beads rolling down your slender neck. Atsuya hadn’t pulled out yet, he waited until you shifted, signalled and pulled away. Your ass looked amazing bent over pulling your little denim shorts up that had eventually fallen down to your ankles and adjusted your underwear he had pulled to the side in a fit of passion because he was too eager to wait.

You hadn’t noticed there was no condom yet.

When you turned, Atsuya couldn’t help but pull you towards him, body pressed together as one and lips touched. 

Like fire. 

“This can’t... this can't happen again.” A stolen kiss in the dark so breathless. “I’m sorry; I’m so drunk…But this shouldn’t happen again.” 

That was why he chose no condom. If there was a chance you would see clarity and deny him anything further, he couldn’t leave it to chance and wouldn’t risk the minute percentage of this scenario happening. 

“But it should.” He said and your hands were in his. “I think we should do this again.” 

But he left out the part where he should have told you that he loved you. He didn’t want to scare you off until you were comfortable. 

“This can’t. You… you don’t understand.” You were starting to slur your words? 

“Why not? I can take care of you better than Satoru Gojo can-“

“Satoru?” More clarity? Or did his name sober you up because you felt the same as Gojo? “What has Satoru got to do with this?” 

Your defensiveness threw him through a loop. A fire engulfed one at that. “Well, everyone knows he’s in love with you.” 

He didn’t see the relevance of continuing to speak about him after he’d just come inside you. His cock was still out. You hadn’t noticed that either. 

“I know…” Still so breathless. “We talked about it though and I don’t see him in that way; we’re… we’re just friends.” 

Sure, that’s what they all said and now Atsuya didn’t believe it for a second. “Really?… everyone doesn’t see it that way.”

Now you just looked offended. “No they don’t, why are you even acting like this? Because we just fucked; what?”

“No, no, no.” He held you by your shoulders to reassure you. “It’s not like that, I just… I really wish you’d give me a chance; a date. If you still don’t like it then I’ll leave you be. All I’m asking for is a chance.” 

He had no guts usually and it shocked him how forward he was. Being forward as he just was, was for the likes of Satoru Gojo. Being forward made men look like cocky idiots with an over compensation of their egos. Atsuya did not like confrontation unless he really had to. Though this bold move was most probably down to the fact it was just you in front of him and no one else. 

He had waited two years for this moment after all. 

You didn’t slap him or curl your lip up to turn your nose at him which was a start, like you were contemplating it. All he could think of was that you were probably dripping into your underwear right now. 

“I need to think. I-I’m really drunk Atsuya…” 

Most men would have thought of that as an insult, a way to get out of it and an excuse to get out of the corner. Maybe you had said that because there was not many places to go due to the isolation a boat could provide, but he thought neither and settled with the fact that the ‘Hollow Purple’ had not left the bay. 

You could have left if you wanted and you didn’t. You had no reason to bullshit because you could walk off right now without issue.

And you didn’t. That was a start.

There was a chance. A real chance.

He’d take it. “Alright.” He moved close and pushed his luck, pressing his lips to yours so light, airy. You didn’t turn or push him away either. 

Atsuya turned before he left and adjusted himself, straightened out his shirt and wished the taste of your lips was a scent he could buy. “Enjoy the party.” 

The door hadn’t even closed. Your name was called. “Have you seen her?” 

Satoru Gojo. 

Atsuya could be honest and tell him exactly where you were, out of breath in the bathroom after having his cock inside you for a considerable amount of time in a mixture to both of your bodily fluids. 

But he was selfish. “No, she not out on deck?”

Gojo scratched his head and his eyes scanned the crowded room off to the side. “I just looked there, she was pretty drunk I was gonna bring her some water.” 

Oh how heavenly Gojo was… trying to rub it in. He had respect for him and his work, but deep down he was just another hurdle. 

“Maybe she’s there now.” He couldn’t say that there was a possibility that you could wind up pregnant either during the encounter. 

A kink he was not ashamed of.

The look on Gojo’s face was an expression Atsuya would pay his entire salary just to be there to see when the news hit.

Just you. Him. And whatever happened next, he’d be there for you and Gojo would happen to be a thing of the past. Though he knew he would walk away from you even if you really were just ‘friends’.

“Yeah I guess so.” He pondered a moment with vacancy, glancing at the bathroom door. “If you see her, will you tell her I’m lookin’ for her?” 

“Yeah sure.” He wouldn’t fulfil that request. 

Atsuya nodded him off and watched him leave before wandering into the crowded room where the music still wasn’t as loud as his beating heart, hopeful with the choices you had to decide. 

But whatever you did chose, he’d be there to support you and with his fingers crossed, he’d be in your life for good now whether you wanted it or not. 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[grandapplewit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 二哈和他的白猫师尊 - 肉包不吃肉 | The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Chu Wanning/Mo Ran | Mo Weiyu Characters: Chu Wanning, Mo Ran | Mo Weiyu, Xue Meng | Xue Ziming Additional Tags: Taxian-jun Is His Own Warning, 0.5 Timeline (The Husky and His White Cat Shizun), 0.5 Chu Wanning | Chu-fei, Rape/Non-con Elements, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, okay theres a little bit of plot, Spanking, Choking, Angst, the doves are not dead but they are wounded, Anal Sex, Crying, Begging, Slut Shaming Series: Part 16 of Kinktober 2024 Summary:

Chu Wanning should have known something was up the moment Mo Ran brought him to court. Even draped in fine silks and a veil, Mo Ran couldn’t stand to have anyone else’s eyes on him.

[savagebite]

Price x reader wound fucking drabble

The stinging feeling of pain and numbness flows through your hand, blood flowing down your arm and trickling to the now ruined sheets he, oh so graciously, placed down before hand. The smell of iron burns your nose as he continues, the only sound you can hear is his grunts. When was the last time you told him to stop? You have no idea. But the pain was so delicious and you hated it. His dick going in and out, causing blood to spurt out, making it harder to stay away. The new hole in your hand was for sure his favorite hole now.

[iminsideacoffin]

making out after punching eachother>>>

the both of us full of bruises and cuts, suffocating eachother while our spit mix w sweat and blood...

trying sooo hard to not confess how after all the fights and swearing u just wanted to fucking kiss them, yeah

okay, maybe i am sick

but so are u.

[fuckmegentlewithachainsaw]

thinking about dean, who humps his brother, while his hands fingerfuck sam's open wound/s, like, maybe he humps his legs, and fingers open bloody wound on his thighs, fingers slick and red, or maybe humps his ass, while hugging him from the back, fingering wounds on his tummy or something, opening them even more, joking about how it feels like he fingers pussy, the possibilities are endless

[freshllamapeace]

A False Sense

Remmick x Reader

 Holy crap I felt like I was writing interview with a vampire with the amount of dialogue and recounted there is in this. Uh slow burn and you talk like a lot… 

Warning - Death, Vampires, blood, all that jazz, Dead dove (not really but part two will be) 

Part ½, possible prequel 

Bruises didn’t stick and wounds healed quick but… the memories, they were haunting. They refuse to leave, replaying in the back of your skull like a broken cassette tape. Yet you still managed to keep a smile on your face because you survived it. Even managed to kill the fucker and sever that damn connetion but in the back of your head you worry that maybe it isn’t over.  

You sat on the floor of the woods, blood dripping from your mouth, dirt staining your hands. The man before you was breathing heavily, your eyes watching as his chest rose and fell and his Adam's apple bobbed. 

“Do you think that's enough?” He asked sheepishly, sweat running down his forehead. His breath was hot and his eyes were sunken. He was tired, you had taken more than you promised. You smile, teeth shining in the moonlight.  Grabbing the blade you'd been using all night long to carve the man up, you gently wiped the metal on your dress allowing the red ichor to stain the fabric before pocketing it. Laying your back to the earth, you look to the stars. They shined down bright and friendly like an old friend. The one constant in your immortal life were those twinkling lights, people came and went, animals died, and nature often left destroyed but those pretty lights never left. Sure there were nights where it was harder to see them than others but you knew they were still there and that's what brought you comfort night after night.  “Yeah I think so.” You stated, closing your eyes and allowing the cold air to affectionately kiss at your skin. “I think I may have over done it tonight.”

“I think so too.” Louis grimaced in pain as he laid next to you. His eyes running up and down your body, looking for something, anything that was out of place and would point to the monster he believed you to be. The longer his eyes looked the more his mind drifted to the conclusion that there was nothing out of the ordinary about you, you had no tells. And that, well that wasn’t okay. It put him on edge, his skin crawled and tiny goosebumps would materialize on his brown skin. Just the thought that he couldn’t tell your kind apart from his kind frightened him but still he said nothing. “You know it’s been three years since you smashed into me and my sister's life like battering ram. And still you ain’t very forthcoming about yourself.” He pauses looking to you for a reaction that wouldn’t come. “It ain’t fair you know.” 

Letting out a deep sigh in what could only be human mockery, you groan. Slowly you flutter your eyes open as if waking from a thoughtless slumber. “Three years, huh? Time really is but a stubborn illusion, a fleeting moment constantly on the run.” You smile, soft, kind. “Fine… I'm an open book. What do you want to know?” You ask as you use your elbow to lift you up. Looking deep into Louis' worn out eyes. You should get him home soon. 

“How’d you come to be like this? And don’t reply with no poetic bullshit, okay? I ain’t stupid, I want the real answer.” Bold boy, he was. His hunger for answers pumping through his veins, a need for knowledge ripping through the air. Your instincts told you to dance around the question, run him in circles till he was dizzy just like you always did but what good would come out of that. You’d spent the last three years doing so and now the jig was up. “Well ain’t that a loaded question.” You laugh trying to hide your unease. 

“I was hunted… hunted like a baby fawn.” You took a deep breath, the memories engulfing you like a dark cloud. The face you tried so hard to forget flashing in your mind like a film reel. “He said he loved me. Said he knew me better than I knew myself.” You allowed yourself to let out a bitter chuckle. “In the end, I guess he did.” Louis looked on quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I let him in one night. My hunger, my lust, it clouded my judgement. He wasted no time showering me with love and adoration, it was nice.” A distant smile appeared on your face before dropping. 

“I allowed the events of the night to creep up on me, lulling me to sleep in his arms. When I woke the sweet remnants of sleep still hung to my body but also this indescribable dread. It clung to me like a leach, buried itself in the pit of my stomach. He was gone of course, the morning rays shining down on my dark skin, giving it a reluctant golden hue. I still remember how beautiful that sunrise was that day. The midtones of orange, yellow and even a luminescent pink clashing with each other for control of the sky, as the sun smiled down at all creation. It was so warm, so friendly, I could’ve fallen back into the arms of slumber in an instant if it wasn’t for the nauseating dread that was clinging to me.” You didn't realize it but your breathing became uneven as your mind went to the events that followed after that sunrise. You closed your eyes if only for a moment. 

You were there again. Feet anxiously climbing down the stair case as a sickening rotting fragrance filled your nose. Eyes wide as you looked at the gore before you. This wasn’t real, it couldn't be. Your dads body was broken, contorted in ways that didn’t seem possible. His bones poked out where they shouldn’t and stomach gashed open with his intestines spilling out. His eyes were haunting, the lively brown hue they carried, now gone and greyed over. Not far from him was your mother. Her face stretched out in horror, the expression ingrained in her loving brown features. Her throat was completely shredded, all components on display. You could even see the pale white bone making an appearance through the heaps of blood. A wail so guttural and raw left your mouth that night and you cried for hours on end. You had come to believe it was your fault. 

“Y/n you’re crying.” You blinked a moment. You mind racing at an inhuman pace you struggled to catch up. You smile, wiping the cherry tears from your face, you laugh. “Sorry about that.” 

“Anyways I woke up that day to my parents dead in the living room and my dog, Little Daisy gored on front porch.” You breath, pulling your body forward you sat up before crossing your legs. “He left me to stupor in his actions, he enjoyed watching it eat at me from a far. It took me months to leave the house after that. Reduced to a hermit, I lived in fear. But it’d be years before he’d strike again. He waited, waited til I was comfortable, happy, safe. He was always content to play the long game. Something I never grew to understand.” 

“Why didn’t he just kill you that night? Turn while you were laying up in bed with him.” You laugh sharp and bitter. “You listening to me? He didn’t kill me because what’s the fun in that?” You asked. “I let him in and for that, there needed to be consequences. My parents and little Daisy were just that… Consequences.” 

“But you let him in again, didn’t you?” Louis accused. “How else would he have gotten his hand on you?” 

“Of course not. I would’ve never let him in, I don’t purposely make the same mistake twice.” You left those words in the air for a moment. Silence surrounding the two of you. 

“Like I said, he waited. Waiting till he became a distant memory in the back of my mind. Waited for me to get bold. Waiting was what he was good at. It took a while but I did get bold, started testing my luck by going outside when the sun sunk low. I had to… needed to, the house was suffocating, had been for years but I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere else. All my memories resided there, riding my first bike, the many piggybacks my father gave me, my mother and the ‘secret’ girls night we’d have when dad was working late. I latched onto it all because outside of memories all I had was the house. My parents weren’t well off so to give them a proper burial I sold things, things that I would’ve treasure if I knew better.” 

“But April 26 19XX I chose to be bold. Bold for the last time. I sat on the wooden swinging chair that resided on the porch, an old thing with striking baby blue paint littered on it. Long aged, the paint was chipped and peeling but she was still a beauty. I was tired, lazy, the book that resided in my lap long since abandoned and my eyes began fluttering closed. It’d been a long time since I’d had the chance to fall asleep with the wind kissing so lovingly on my skin. I took the risk, I acted boldly, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.” “No” Louis whispered clearly enraptured by your story. 

“I don’t know what time I woke up but when I did the moon was softly shining down on me. It was comforting but only for a moment. I felt time slow as the wood of the chair creaked. He was sitting beside me doing what he did best, watching and waiting.” You wouldn’t dare go over the intimated details of how that night unfolded. The things you endured that night never meant to be recounted or relived. “He turned me that night, just before sunrise.” Your voice was quiet barely audible above the crickets and cicadas as they sang. 

“But you say you killed him!” Louis said his voice full of hope. The words noticeably coming out loud and proud. “That what sis says anyways.” He said his tone shifting to be a bit meeker after noticing his voice had scared aways many of wildlife that resided in the forest. Another true and genuine smile found itself pressed into your lips. The brother and sister duo really did crack you up with their antics. A shame you were only feeding on the one tonight. “Where’s your sister anyways?” You asked. 

“My question first.” Eager was the serpent to feast. His hunger for knowledge leaves holes in his stomach that only you could fill. You chuckled. “Yeah I suppose I did. But that didn’t come first, What came first was severing the ‘connection’ we had.” “Connection?” He questioned. 

“Vampires have this connection to one another, like a symbiosis relationship. Not only did he get my memories but I got his. I saw the countless nights he spent waiting for me. I saw his first hand account of him murdering my parents, my dog. And those memories, they drove me crazy. They replayed in my head like a fucking siren. It felt like it was his doing, like he was the reason they wouldn’t stop like he wanted me to watch those moments over and over again. And maybe he did, he had a peculiar way he went about things.” There was a profound sadness now present in your eyes. Louis sat seemingly amazed at just how expressive your eyes were. They told their own story time and time again. 

“Now about that sister of yours?” You asked, giving a friendly tilt of the head. As Louis opened his mouth to answer, the sound of a branch snapping could be heard loud and clear. You both snapped your head in the direction of the noise. Your body immediately stiffened and you felt as though all the blood you had just received ran cold. What stood before you was hardly a few feet away. A ghost of a man with blood soaked clothes, in his hand he held an iron grip on the decapitated head of Zuri, Louis’ sister. The spinal bone still attached, her eyes were stuck staring back at you in horror. You could only imagine what her last moments looked like.

“She ain’t wanna miss out on the pleasantree’s thought I'd bring her with me.” Remmick voice and smooth and sweet like honey, always was. Even when he would whisper in your ear about how he would break every bone in your body. It made you sick. Louis cried out his eyes never leaving his sister's head, tears started to rain down his face like a water hose that was not quite shut off. “How?” The word came out quiet, frightened. 

“I did what I do best darlin’… Watched and waited.” He mocked. He had been there lurking far longer than you realized.

__________________________________

I wanna do mafia AU next man

[allzelemonz]

No Good, Twisted, Fucking Day: O’Driscoll Gang X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: E/Smut, rape Warnings: Rape, wound fucking, dead dove do not eat, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, gang bang, anal sex, blood, gore, stabbing, loss of consciousness Summary: Stabbed, hardly aware, and surrounded by strange men that use whatever you have.

You didn’t feel it for a full minute. Long enough to grip the man’s throat and cut off his breath until he went limp. But when you stumbled back, it was hard to ignore the blood staining your clothes. You felt the wet fabric more than anything. Then you put your hand to the wound and it started to burn.

And it still burns.

It burns and burns and you feel so sick and dizzy and weak. You just want to pass out, to fall asleep, but town isn’t all that far. You can make it. Just… one step at a time.

Your legs give out and you fall into the dirt, rolling to your side with the sense to keep the wound away from anything that could mess with it. There’s blood everywhere when you look down and things start to turn oddly cold.

Then you don’t feel anything for a while. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing at all. You think you may have died, but then there’s an aching pain that makes you scream and open your eyes.

“Told ya he was alive.” A voice snickers.

You can’t move, your head spins and your limbs have no feeling. No, all feeling comes from the distinct stretching of your ass. It takes you a moment to process what’s happening, but the brutal thrusts make it hard to think it’s anything else.

“Hurry up then, I wanna make ‘em scream while he’s still warm.”

There’s a few laughs and your heart sinks for a moment before you fall into darkness again.

This pain hurts even more. You wake in a flash, the searing burn reaching every part of you. The movement is sickening, the wet sounds are worse. And just like before, it takes you a moment to figure out what’s happening.

And it’s so much worse than before.

Getting raped by a couple of faceless, nameless, random men is something you could at least fathom. But this…

And he loves it.

He lips are close to your ear and you can hear every groan, every gasp as he fucks into you. Into the wound.

“Fuck…” He grunts, thrusting in again. “Ya should try it, boys.”

You don’t have the voice to scream. You can’t even cry. You can hardly believe it’s even happening.

“Can’t feel that good.”

He moans right next to your ear and you shiver as his breath hits your skin. “It does, boys.” He gasps, giving a few quick thrusts. “Oh, it’s so tight, so fuckin’ warm.”

“Better than his ass?” One of them asks, circling around so you can see his face. “Find that hard ta believe.”

“Ya can try when I’m done.”

The one in front of you squats down, hand petting your hair. “Might kill him, bet yer tearin’ inta ‘em something fierce.”

The other grunts. “Ya wanna keep ‘em er somethin’?”

“Maybe.”

“Colm’d never let ya keep a runt like this.”

The one in front of you hums. “He’d make a nice whore, boss could fuck ‘em too.”

“Shit…” The other gasps, stopping his movement.

You don’t feel much else other than the burning. Just the burning, the ripping. It hurts so much you can’t really feel it all that much anymore.

“Didn’t do that in him, did ya?”

“Nah, it goes all the way through.”

“Clean ‘em up, wanna keep ‘em.” The one in front of you mutters.

His eyes are such a dark brown you can hardly make them out. His voice is soft, harsh but soft. You can’t even feel the gentle strokes he gives your head.

“Sentimental?”

“Hard to find good toys these days.” He sighs. “I think Colm’ll like him too.”

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

Freaks and freaks only, I have published yet another Devil's Minion fic. This one is very "dead dove" so please heed the tags before reading!

Please refrain from kinkshaming on my blog. If you don't like the tags, don't read it :)

[savagebite]

Logan/wolverine wound fucking drabble

Tw: gore, asshole Logan

Logan who practiced sparring with you and scratching a horribly deep wound into torso. His instincts taking over when he sees the bright red liquid ooze from the gasp and immediately pinning you to the hard ground and quickly taking off his belt. fucking that sweet wet, warm hole while you try and get away. Eyes stinging with tears as you watch him violate the gash. You fade in and out of consciousness, desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of showing any pleasure on your face. You can feel his cock in between your insides. Rubbing against anything and everything. You feel like you’re gonna vomit, cum, and cry at the same time. When you finally do faint, the last thing you see is him zipping his pants up.

[nanamis-bigtie]

i know boundaries and categorization are a very personal thing but i still die inside when stuff like noncon or n*crophilia are put into one dead dove bag together with stuff like bondage and dirty talk

[l0v3s1ck-606]

WOUND FUCKING

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Wounds, blood, gunshot injury, stab wound, sadism, etc.

YOSANO AKIKO

She knew what she was doing was considered malpractice, and she feels guilty for doing this, but she can't help herself.

You look astonishingly beautiful in your own blood... she can't help herself but act on her own.

Straddling your hips, Yosano slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it up, revealing a gunshot injury. Grazing the injury with her pointer finger, you can't help but moan in pain. Lowering down, Yosano kisses your injury and hesitantly licks the wound. 

Gosh, she feels so gross for doing this. 

Licking the wound, she brought up her pointer finger up again and snuck it into the gunshot injury, fingering the area as a hopeless "attempt" to get the bullet. 

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai is a freak, and he knows that. 

Just the look of your pain expression makes him go hard. Gosh, he just wants to ruin you more, and by that, he grabs the closest knife and stabs your stab wound, making it worse than it already is. 

His cock twitches at the sound of your screaming telling him to "stop" and that it "hurts". Oh darling that only encourages him to continue... Fingering your stab wound he stabs you once more just to see you cry. 

He wasn't going to go easy on you. In fact, Nikolai absolutely adores your pain expression.

[goredawg]

The blood of God drips down his body, touching his most intimate parts to purify him of every evil touch he has ever received. He’s seen people collapse, cry, scream when God enters their body. The waves of emotion. What happens when you enter God’s body?

---

Izaiah spends his 20th birthday visiting a Church.

[jesterfairy]

What was your Joker's mother like and how was her relationship with him?

Oof. That question hurts—in the best way.

Mild spoilers ahead if you’re avoiding anything about Joker's backstory (plus a Chapter 22 spoiler). Nothing major, but just in case!

My Joker’s mother, Daphne, was a complicated woman. Beautiful, gentle, and quietly melancholic, she carried a softness the world was far too cruel to allow.

She was a former dancer, and someone who found comfort in sad songs and old films—the kind of woman who saw beauty in broken things. Honestly, not unlike Alina. There’s a fragility to her, even in Joker's memory. A tenderness laced with tragedy.

Her relationship with him was everything. For a time, she was the only good thing in his world—the only softness, the only warmth. He was fiercely attached to her—too attached. He adored her, worshipped her even, in that childlike way that turns obsessive when there’s no one else to turn to. She was his anchor, his entire sense of safety and affection. His whole world.

But protection only goes so far when you’re married to a monster.

Joker’s father was a violent alcoholic—volatile, cruel, the kind of man who didn’t need a reason to use his fists. Daphne took the brunt of it. Covered the bruises with makeup. Smiled through the wreckage for her son’s sake. But she couldn’t protect him—not really. He saw more than she realized. Felt more. And that helplessness carved something sharp into him—a rage, a shame, a vow to never be small again.

He loved her. Fiercely. But even as a boy, some part of him resented her—for staying. For flinching. For failing to stop the violence. That part—the one that saw her fragility as weakness—never fully forgave her.

She wasn’t perfect. Whether from mental illness, trauma, or sheer exhaustion, there were times she disappeared emotionally. Times she looked away. And that planted a seed in him—this warped belief that love and abandonment are two sides of the same coin. That pain is the price of closeness.

After her death, that love didn’t vanish. It just… rotted. Guilt, grief, resentment—all tangled into something that never let him go.

He doesn’t talk about her. Doesn’t let himself. But when Alina finds the photo tucked inside Frankenstein, it’s clear—she still lives in him.

And maybe, deep down, some broken part of him wants Alina to replace her. To love him the way Daphne couldn’t.

So yeah. She’s the ghost in the walls of this story. And the wound that never healed. 💔

Thanks so much for the ask! 🥰