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olddirtybadfic · 10 months ago

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Invasion: A Sims 2 Darkfic (Part One of Three)

I also used to (and still do) write Sims 2 fic. I have a whole other account about that (trying to keep everything organized; let's see how long that lasts), but I'm not quite ready to link it to this one.

Anyway, teen!me couldn't restrict herself to exploring dark topics through one fandom, so this exists.

Content Warning: Violence; rape/noncon; character assassination of Buzz Grunt (seriously? you made him a rapist, teen!me? i know there's not really set canon in the Sims 2 but even considering that, it seems a bit out of character); depiction of the Beaker household as not being a den of unethical experimentation (c'mon at least one of them did some shit—judging from how they autonomously behave in my game, it's usually Circe); Loki and Nervous are apparently adoptive brothers in this; slut-shaming and other not-nice behavior from Buzz (in addition to the raping); rape written from the point-of-view of the rapist (teen!me was really working through some issues)

-O-o-O-o-O-

Buzz Grunt stomped through the dark streets of Strangetown, grey eyes barely seeing the storefronts ahead of him. The few streetlights provided a steady supply of shadowed alleys in which the whack-jobs could hide, but boolprop help the Sim that crossed him tonight.

He’d wanted the truth behind Lyla’s departure and he got it, all right. He’d gotten the truth about Lyla, the truth about their relationship, and the truth about Loki Beaker all in one fell swoop, and he didn’t like one word of it.

“How dare she leave me in search of him? After I took her in, gave her everything she could possibly need, this is how she repays me?” Buzz clenched his fists. “That bitch deserved to end up in Olive’s graveyard.”

As for Loki… “That little man-whore…I knew he couldn’t have stopped creaming his pants over her so soon. Circe’s not that much of a prize. Hell, she’s a bigger bitch than he is. She’ll probably end up cheating on him, and he’d run crying like the pussy he is, and Lyla would’ve been there to wipe his mascara away.”

Never mind the fact that Loki was never happier than when he was with Circe, and vice versa. However, Buzz was not one to think rationally in a fit of drunken rage.

“When I see that son of a bitch, he’ll wish he was never even conceived.”

Buzz rounded the corner into an alleyway and ran into a man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. “Watch where you’re going!” Buzz shouted, shoving the man backwards.

“I was, until you ran me down. Fucking drunkard.” The hooded man snarled, shoving back. His hood fell, mid-shove, revealing a blond head. “I’d recognize that blond mop anywhere,” Buzz thought, his eyebrows clenching.

As the man straightened up, Buzz was met by Loki’s piercing blue glare.

“You…” Buzz growled.

“Wasn’t beating the crap out of me in high school enough? Must you absolutely run me over in the streets as well?” Loki crinkled his hooked nose in disgust. “My gods, you reek of alcohol.”

This earned him a whack across the face that sent him stumbling towards a wall. “You deserved every injury I gave you, you little shit,” Buzz snarled, “especially now that I know about your little fling with my Lyla.”

“What fling? We dated for a semester in high school, long before you got your paws on her,” Loki spat back. He gave a slight snicker. “You know, I really can’t figure out what she ever saw in you. And I suppose if we hadn’t broken up, she never would have.”

Before he could draw another breath, Loki found himself slammed against the brick wall of the Strangetown drugstore. “I’m not stupid, Beaker. I know you couldn’t have given up on her that easily. You just pretended to break it off with her, didn’t you? Then you prodded her to marry me and then leave me.” Buzz tightened his grip on Loki’s shirt.

“That is ridiculous, Buzz. Why would I care enough to do all that?”

“Don’t you even try that; I know how your sick little mind works. You wanted revenge for all those times I showed you I was stronger, more of a man than you.”

“Buzz, seriously, how fucked up do you think I am? How pathetic would I have to be to give a flying shit about your marriage? And how pathetic do you have to be to think I even still care about those fights?” Loki’s even tone set Buzz’s nerves afire.

“You should, because they’re about to happen again.” With that, Buzz threw himself at Loki, who dodged out of the way, and ended up on the ground. Buzz rose partway and came at him again, receiving a kick in the shoulder, then another to the stomach. Buzz writhed upwards, catching Loki by the leg. Loki was dragged to the ground in seconds. A few more traded punches and Buzz had both Loki’s wrists in one hand.

Loki tried to slide backwards out of Buzz’s grip and realized he was up against a brick wall.

Buzz chuckled joylessly as he gripped Loki’s hands over his head. “You always were a weakling, Beaker.”

“What the hell is this? Can’t you act civilized for once?” Loki grumbled, struggling to free his hands.

“Can’t you stop asking such stupid questions? I’ll act civilized when you deserve it, you scum.” He relished at the sight of Loki thrashing under him, the feel of his wrists firmly in his grasp. Buzz felt around in his pocket—yes, it was still there. He pulled out the rope he’d packed earlier and tied Loki’s hands to the pipe fixed to the wall.

Loki found he couldn’t move his arms as far. He tilted his head back, his eyes following his arms upward to the knot encircling his wrists. He snapped his vision to Buzz.

Buzz was vaguely aware that Loki had stopped thrashing and swearing. The sudden silence prompted him to look down and catch Loki’s horrified expression.

Buzz took in the sight. Loki had turned completely white and his eyes were permeated with shock and terror. Tiny beads of sweat could be perceived on his aquiline brows. He’d never seen Loki show much emotion regarding him outside of anger and contempt.

He quite liked this new power over Loki’s emotions.

Loki, however, did not. He wrenched his arms around, straining his bonds, but alas, never breaking them.

“Tying knots isn’t just for Boy Scouts,” Buzz commented unzipping his pants.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re about to do, but I’m not gonna be a part of it.” Loki swung his leg upwards to knock Buzz across the head. The airborne extremity was promptly caught and pinned down.

“I don’t know why you even bother trying to fight back anymore, Beaker.” Buzz planted his knee on Loki’s leg. “What was that saying you used to rub in my face in front of Lyla?” Buzz pondered aloud, roughly tightening the ropes and creating a nice little rope burn. “Of course—‘those who don’t learn their history are doomed to repeat it.’ Well, tonight, you’re going to see why I’m the better man, and maybe you’ll get it through your thick skull this time.”

Loki tried to knee Buzz in the crotch, then realized that both his legs were pinned down under Buzz’s knees. He leaned forward to bite Buzz, who merely had to lean slightly backwards to avoid him.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Buzz continued. “I have the upper hand, the advantage in this battle. You never stood a chance against me. It’d be better if you just surrendered.”

Buzz felt Loki go wooden. “That’ll only make it worse on you,” he cautioned, clicking his teeth. He slid Loki’s pants and underwear down. “Well, whaddya know. The carpets do match the drapes.”

At this point, Loki could only watch in horror.

“And they’re trimmed. Isn’t that just precious.” Buzz reached into his own underwear.

The alley was quiet, save for Buzz’s grunts and the occasional whimper from Loki. Buzz had figured this would be a silent job; Loki didn’t scream during their other fights and he didn’t scream now. It was slightly more difficult, as he’d tied Loki up in a sitting position, but tying him any other way would have left him open to a backwards kick. And the more it hurt Loki, the better to teach him a lesson.

Buzz paused to take a breath and gazed upon Loki’s tightly shut eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. Take it like a man—like the man you aren’t and never will be,” Buzz hissed into his ear.

Loki opened his eyes to glare at Buzz, teeth clenched.

Buzz returned to thrusting. He unexpectedly climaxed, sagging against the wall. As he leaned back, he saw that Loki had turned his head as far as he could away from Buzz’s direction.

“Look at me,” Buzz commanded.

Loki refused.

“Look at me, Goddamn it!” Buzz roared. Loki sharply turned his head to face Buzz. The glare and scowl were fully intact, rendering Loki’s features positively demonic. The blue slits of eyes glistened.

“Crying. And here I thought—wrongly, obviously—you could take it like a man.” Buzz slapped Loki across the face, spilling the droplets across the wall. He then pulled up their underwear and pants. Loki raised a leg to kick Buzz again, but a whack across the face put an end to that course of action. Finally, he yanked apart the knot that bound Loki’s wrists.

He grabbed Loki up by a handful of shirt. “I am stronger than you. I have always been stronger than you. I will always be stronger than you. You will never forget this after what I’ve done.” He flung Loki back to the ground. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Loki fled. Buzz zipped up his own pants, unaware of the glint of reflected light from the roof of a building in the distance.

-O-o-O-

Circe sat in the kitchen, drumming her fingers on the table. Nervous sat at the other end, checking the stove, to make sure the food on top of it didn’t burn.

“He’s late,” Circe remarked curtly, glancing at her watch. “He never takes this long coming home from the lab. I knew I should’ve stopped by after my shift to pick him up. Who knows how long it’ll take to get his car fixed?”

Nervous fidgeted with the bottom of his T-shirt. Circe was clearly in a bad mood; Loki was late to dinner again. That meant he might be too tired to talk to her or he’d go straight to the lab in their basement.

That meant that he’d have to listen to her ranting about how all she and Loki did nowadays was work. He could understand how one could get easily annoyed—he didn’t like seeing less of his adoptive brother, either—but to go on about it over and over seemed somewhat pointless. They knew Loki didn’t like seeing them so little, but he couldn’t help it. After Circe was transferred to the other lab, their shifts, for a while, had been set up in such a way that Loki was just getting home in time to see Circe off to work. The schedules had recently changed so at least they worked similar hours, but it still wasn’t very much time.

Nervous saw Loki come in and immediately knew something was wrong. Loki walked right past Nervous, who was standing right in front of the door, without a single word. His eyes were glazed over and his face was set in a mask of impassivity. However, Nervous didn’t think it would be best to address it.

Seeing this, Circe ran after him. “Where have you been? Nervous was afraid you’d gotten stabbed on the walk home. Couldn’t you have at least called to say you’d be home late?” She followed him into their bedroom. “Don’t you want to eat first? You completely missed dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Loki’s voice was barely a hoarse whisper as he continued towards the bathroom. Circe could see his hands and knees slightly trembling and found out why when Loki knelt and began to vomit into the toilet.

“What happened? Did you get another mysterious disease at lab? They’ve been going around in the neurology department and since you come in contact with the neurologists, you might’ve gotten it from one of them.” She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell….Loki, have you been drinking?”

Loki huddled, still trembling, over the toilet. He refused to look at Circe.

“Loki, answer me! Have you been drinking?” Circe demanded.

“No,” Loki managed, “but Buzz certainly has.”

Circe knelt down next to him. “Buzz?” She made a motion to put a hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away violently. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Did you two get in a fight again?”

Loki glared at Circe with liquid blue eyes. “No, it was not a fight, Circe. Nothing about that was a fight. That was a fucking invasion.”

Circe’s face darkened. “What did he do to you?”

Loki dragged himself up. “He raped me, all right?” He stomped off into the bedroom. “I’m sorry I missed dinner.”

Circe stared. “WHAT?”

Loki huddled behind the dresser and fidgeted in silence, which Circe was only too eager to fill.

“Well…We need to report this. He can’t go unpunished; I don’t care if he is the General. We need to get you to a hospital—keep those same clothes on and don’t take a shower—we need to go to the police, and—”

“No.”

Circe’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Last time I checked, rape is a crime. If you don’t press charges, we at least need to take you to a doctor and get some kind of test—”

Loki shook his head. “I can’t let them. They don’t like me in that department. You know what they’ll say about all this.”

“Then I’ll check you up myself, so they won’t have to know.” Circe tried to grab Loki’s arm.

“Don’t, Circe. Just don’t!” Loki shouted.

Circe paid him no mind. She tried again; he slipped away. She kept trying to grab him, he kept avoiding her. Finally she grabbed him by the wrists and had him facing her. Loki stared into her eyes with a look of absolute horror on his face.

It was then that Circe realized what she’d been doing.

“Oh, gods….This is how Buzz went after you, isn’t it? Oh my gods….He’s really screwed you up….I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean to force you.”

Loki collapsed against Circe, his face against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and he didn’t resist, just clung to her as if he were a small child and she were his mother.

“What has he done to you, Loki?”

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: The Sims 2 might not have set canon, but there are still ways to strain your readers' willing suspension of disbelief.

#ts2 #the sims 2 #sims 2 stories #dark fic #buzz grunt #loki beaker #circe beaker #nervous subject #tw violence #tw noncon #tw sa #tw ptsd #dead dove do not eat #the dove is a zombie #i didn't give the grim reaper enough money #then nervous ate the zombie dove #and farted on the table afterwards

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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Zombie! Ghost NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Zombie Fucking, Monster Fucking, Zombie! Ghost, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, Cockwarming, Unprotected Sex, Stagnant Semen, Stomach Bulge, Stomach Swelling, Mention of Breeding, Engorged Penis, Brief Worry of Infection, Mentions of Blood, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Zombie!Ghost who’s been travelling with you for the last couple of months or so.

Zombie! Ghost who wasn’t like all the other infected — he retained most of his autonomy with only his body succumbing to the disease, blood smattered down his tactical gear, eyes milky.

Zombie!Ghost who, though he can’t speak, can still communicate via growls, gurgles and groans, as well as body language, albeit in a stiff manner.

Zombie!Ghost who, despite existing in a decaying body, has retained most of his human, primal urges. Even had some of them enhanced.

Zombie!Ghost who, though you might not know it, rocks himself into his hand when the night is quiet, your name and face on his mind amidst the buzz of the virus telling him to act on his base instincts to eat, feed and breed.

Zombie!Ghost who sees that, much to his lethargic delight, this was the case for you, too.

On many a night had he caught you with something hard between your legs, trying desperately to alleviate the the knots below your stomach.

Zombie!Ghost who, one night, after a long day of running from the undead and hiding in an enclosed space with you, chest to chest as you both waited for the horde to pass, found that palming himself did nothing to rid him of the aching feeling between his legs.

Zombie!Ghost who can sense that you’re the same: all that excess adrenaline and pent-up sexual frustration permeated the air with scent only a creature like Ghost could smell. A scent which he followed to the door of your room.

He knocked. Once. Heard you shuffling, scurrying, before clearing your throat, telling him to “Come in,”

Zombie! Ghost who can see your hasty attempt to cover yourself, your pants pulled up with such speed that you’d neglected to zip them back up, the hem of your underwear showing between the open space.

Zombie!Ghost who sees your eyes flicker to his trousers, widen slightly, before returning to his eyes.

Zombie!Ghost who wastes no time, kicking the door shut behind him and taking heavy, deliberate steps towards you.

Zombie! Ghost whose hand slithers down his front to the bulge between his legs, never taking his eyes off yours as he squeezes it, letting out a guttural groan.

Zombie! Ghost who knows you’re intelligent enough to pick up what he’s putting down. Even if you are stunned into momentary silence.

Zombie! Ghost who feels something in him grow warm when you look up at him with wide eyes, asking him, tentatively: “But…won’t I get infected?”

Zombie! Ghost who shakes his head, for he can do little more to put your mind at ease save for leaving and never proposing such a thing again.

Zombie! Ghost who sees you mulling it over in your mind, though he can tell by the rampant heat coming from between your thighs, the tantalising scent of your hormones thickening in the air, that your mind is already made up.

Zombie! Ghost who approaches with a rabid look in his eyes, coming to stand right where you need him.

Zombie! Ghost who has to bite back a growl when he feels your fingers brush him through his clothes, taking the zipper of his pants between your fingers and pulling it down.

Zombie! Ghost who, after having himself freed of his tactical gear, lies back on the bed, watching your mouth drop open as you see his swollen, drooling, stiffened cock for the first time, blackened veins running up the shaft. Pulsating. Something viscous and almost white oozes from the tip.

Zombie! Ghost who has to resist the urge to buck his hips when you come to straddle him, your pants and underwear abandoned somewhere on the mattress.

Zombie! Ghost who shudders when his tip meets your heat, the first semblance of warmth he’s felt since his un-death.

Zombie! Ghost who, even with his vocal cords having thoroughly decayed, lets out a carnal growl as you take him, sinking down onto his tip and wincing at the coldness — the size — of him.

Zombie! Ghost who can only wait for you to adjust to his girth and his lack of temperature as you sink further, a bulge in your stomach forming.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel you squeezing around him, already coaxing him to forfeit his restraint and pump you full of the stagnant semen all but bursting from his engorged ballsack. The consequence of not having an outlet for weeks.

Zombie! Ghost who gasps, back arching against the mattress, his gloved bands coming to grip your waist while he grinds up into you, desperate to feel more of your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who can barely hold it together (literally) as you rock yourself on his cock, whimpering and gasping as he fills every ounce of space your body can give him.

Zombie! Ghost who can see that this is the turning point for your relationship — that the two of you have entered something you wouldn’t be able to explain to others even if you wanted to. If there was anyone left to explain it to.

Zombie! Ghost who, the longer and harder you rock against him, lifting yourself and dropping again back onto him, feels himself start to come undone, starts to feel the all-too human tremours and electricity — the tell-tale signs of a release.

Zombie! Ghost who, when he sees you try to pull away, try to stop him from splattering your insides with his seed, tightens his grip on your waist, keeping you flush against him.

Zombie! Ghost who, despite his lethargy, bucks up into you. Despite your protests, your begging for him to “Pull out — please!” knows it’s far too late as his eyes squeeze shut and his body spasms.

You’re filled with a wet coldness that can’t possibly be mistaken for anything else. And what’s more, there’s tons of it. You’re sure the sheer amount of semen Ghost is pumping you full of is going to leave your stomach swollen for days to come.

Zombie! Ghost who bounces you on his dick until he feels you cum, hears you cry out, sees you go limp, his hands keeping you upright.

Zombie! Ghost who, in the panting, sweating, sweltering aftermath, lays you beside him, his cock still deep inside you, a parasite in its own right as it sought and fed from your warmth.

Zombie! Ghost who brings an arm around you, pulling your back to his front, his face in your hair.

Zombie! Ghost who, tiring now, wonders if you’d have been together like this when he was a human, when he was alive.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how he’s managed to live without you in the first place. Who knows now he’ll do anything to make sure that never happens.

Zombie! Ghost who can feel that you’ve fallen into a deep slumber, your breathing steady.

Zombie! Ghost who wonders how much of his strength, his load, you can take — where and when you’ll get yourself off on him next.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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