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katssecretdiary · 8 days ago

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JOEL MILLER AS A BIKERIDER, HELL YES. Back when I was proofreading this and when this sweet beautiful soul of a person and writer kindly asked me to help her shape the idea —absolutely all the credit to her obvs because never in my wildest dreams would I ever imagine Joel as a bikerider but I'm SO glad her mind did because holy shit, I was so excited. Because when I read it for the first time I got butterflies and now seeing it posted, for the world to enjoy it, oh gosh. My dream date with Joel would be this, and maybe him bending me over his bike and pounding me hard. But this? Chef kiss.

Sunday Rides

Summary: You and your biker boyfriend Joel go on a picnic that ends with the two of you making love in the rain 🙈💕Reader is 29 Joel is 36

I loved writing this and I hope you love it as well! Also, I do have a header for this, but I’m posting on my phone and I’ll upload it when I’m in front of my computer.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Kissing. S*x in public, pet names, cursing, no apocalypse, Joel rubs tanning lotion on reader.

“You know I’m such a fool for you..

You got me wrapped around your finger…

Do you have to let it linger….

Do ya have to.. do ya have to….”

The soft rhythm of The Cranberries mixed with the occasional radio static roams along the peaceful house. You hum the melody as you stir a freshly made pitcher of strawberry lemonade, Joel’s favorite. You pour the tangy refreshment into two mason jars and seal the lids on tight. Placing them at the bottom of the red cooler backpack, you check off items Joel told you to prepare.

“Okay..” Counting with your fingers, you make sure nothing is missing.

“Lemonde… sandwiches… fruit cups… utensils ... suntan lotion… sunglasses…Joel said he will bring towels… that’s everything”

You maneuver the items into the pack and set it on the wooden kitchen island. The clock ticks 10:50, Joel said to be ready for a surprise at 11. Cleaning up the counter of dirty knives and crumbs, a young vibrant voice flows along the radio speaker:

“Good mornin’ to all you hunnies soakin’ in the warm Texas sun and good vibes on this gorgeous Sunday morning. Whether you’re still in bed or out and about, we hope you stick around listenin’ to 95.9 TXRadio! We’re gonna continue our 90’s throwback party after these messages and when we come back we’ll tell you how to land tickets to that upcoming Kenny Chesney concert in Dallas, so don’t turn that dial!!”

After wiping the counters and sweeping the floor, you patter up the stairs to grab for sandals and a pair of sunglasses. You choose a pair of red flip flops to match your cherry patterned bikini, that hugs your body under your high waisted denim shorts and white baby tee. Grabbing the heart shaped sunglasses to complete the look, you pull your curls back in a cute half up half down style. It’s very reminiscent of those 1950’s pin up models you idolized as a young girl. You can’t help but feel like a classic beauty as you glance at your reflection in the mirror applying coconut flavored lip gloss. You’re sparkling from the inside out. After sporting one last look in the mirror, the doorbell rings from downstairs.

“Coming!” you sing out into the open.

Darting down the stairs, you swing the front door open to find Joel leaning his body up against the old door frame. You’re taken back by the look he’s modeling; aviator sunglasses that put Maverick to shame, a tight black t-shirt that accentuates every bulging muscle in his arms and torso with a denim jacket to compliment, and blue bootcut jeans that make his meaty thighs look irresistible. Unable to calculate syllables, you yank Joel by the shirt pulling him out of the unforgiving Texas heat. Your lips smack onto each other like a tidal wave, Joel moans sucking the short lasting gloss off your bottom lip.

“Mmmmm… ya taste good, kitten”

“Thank you” You mutter snaking your arms around his cozy neck bringing him closer.

If he hadn’t planned a schedule, Joel would have hoisted you over his shoulder for a quick shag in the living room. But, the weather was calling for afternoon rain showers so ya’ll needed to get a move on. Leaving one last kiss on your swollen lips, he pulls away. Immediately, you feel the withdrawal growing from the distance of his touch and mouth.

“Did you get everything, kitten?”

“Yes I did” nodding in agreement.

“Good girl” he says, delivering a peck on your forehead. He follows you into the kitchen where the cooler pack rests on the island. Slinging it over your back like it’s nothing, Joel grabs for something in his back pocket.

“Before we go, I need you to put this on. It’s part of the surprise” In his palm lies a wrinkled bandana. Cocking your head, you grasp the cloth placing it over your eyelids. Turning around, Joel hums an unfamiliar tune while his digits tie a small knot.

“Too tight?” A phrase he’s asked before in the bedroom. You nod your head no. All of the other senses go haywire wondering what this surprise could be. Interlacing his fingers between yours, Joel guides you down the hall. The front door creaks open, the warm breeze tickles at your skin.

“Alright darlin, we’re steppin’ out onto the porch.. I got ya”

Not letting go of your hand Joel guides you, “Alight, keep walkin’... one step… and another.. good girl… just a few more steps.. okay, kitten take it off”

Sliding the cloth over your curls, you squeal in excitement. Parked in the driveway, a red and black Harley Davidson Classic glistens in the sunlight. It resembles the motorcycle that old Hollywood star Marlon Brando rode in your favorite film, The Wild One. The same movie that was showing at Daddy O's Drive-In when Joel brought you there for a first date. He knew you appreciated the classics and in that moment, you could see his heart of gold under the rustic cowboy persona. Nuzzing into the front seat of his pick up truck, you watched the film while feeding each other reeses pieces (his choice) and sweet tart ropes (your favorite). Joel didn’t care much for the film, he was more invested in watching the excitement in your bright eyes; how they darted at the fast motorcycles zigzagging on the screen. He loved the way your teeth grazed your bottom lip at the sight of Marlon Brando. He loved that you appreciated the simplicity of life.

Tears well up around your eyelids; Joel did all of this out of love and appreciation for you.

“You like it?” Joel questions wrapping himself behind you.

“Like? I love it, Joel! Where did you find it?”

“Remember the rancher on Elmer Street that Tommy and I have been working on? Well, we found it abandoned in an old shed and I’ve been fixin’ it up for a couple of weeks. After a few adjustments and a upgraded paint job, she’s good as new”

“Joel,.. I- it’s amazing. Can we go for a ride?” you ask.

“That’s the plan, kitten. Hop on” giving a little smack to your butt you waste no time. Straddling the seat behind Joel, the hot leather stings your thigh but you don’t even care. You’re bursting to get out on the road. Joel adjusts the mirrors, your heart-shaped sunglasses block your bright eyes, but nothing could hide the enthusiasm oozing out of your smile.

“You ready my little highway queen?” Joel asks, sticking the key in the ignition.

“I was born ready, baby” there was a hint of arousal in your tone. You're aching for him to rev the engine.

One click, and the engine purrs like a kitten sending shockwaves between your legs. Joel chuckles at the thought of you getting turned on by a machine. Slowly easing out of the driveway, Joel takes it easy through the neighborhood. Your hands enfold around his torso for support. Passing one house and another, the ride is smooth as honey. Out on the main road, Joel revs the engine a little harder, the vibration growls as it intensifies. A couple of traffic lights and stop signs, Joel gets off the exit heading away from town. That’s when the fun begins. No limits on the highway. It’s just you, Joel, and the open road. The motorcycle goes from 30- 90mph with a snap of your fingers and you grip tighter around him. You’ve never felt a sense of liberation like you do at this moment. The thrill wrenching through your veins is indescribable, but you want to chase it for the rest of your life. The mountains, the highway, the fields, it’s your playground. Joel’s palm finds yours and delivering a soft kiss on your skin. Through the heart shaped sunglasses, you get a glimpse of Joel in the mirror. His lips curved into a grin as his dark locks danced in the fast breeze. His aviators perched perfectly on his strong nose; he’s timeless to you. Moving your hands from his torso to his shoulders, you bring your lips closer to his neck. Brushing your mouth along his skin, you plant delicate kisses along his neck and ear. He twitches at the kitten lick around his earlobe.

“You’re gonna make me crash” he hollers.

Quoting a song from The Smiths, you croon in his ear, “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”

He shakes his head at your sense of humor. Revving the engine, Joel takes off on the blacktop. Mountains, street lines, everything passes before your eyes quicker than a lightning bolt. You feel invincible sitting behind Joel; you wonder if the ability to fly is possible. Tilting your chin to the sapphire sky, you inhale a taste of freedom. Without thinking, your fingertips slip away from Joel’s denim jacket along with your palms. Gracefully stretching your arms over your head, you have an urge to scream out into the universe to let the whole world know what you’re feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you let out a ferocious howl that echoes past the mountains.

“Let it out, babygirl,” Joel utters to himself, admiring you in the side mirror.

After 30 minutes on the road, Joel turns onto a bumpy dirt path that makes your body hop up and down. You can’t help but laugh at the titillating motion. A couple more zigzags and Joel parks the Harley. This was the real surprise.

“Oh.. Joel.. this is” you lift your sunglasses off your face to view the breathtaking landscape. Scenery like this could only be consummated from your daydreams or Van Gogh’s artwork. You blink twice to make sure it’s real. A crystal clear lake that stretches beyond the blue sky accompanied by a field of wild sunflowers swaying in the gentle gust. Mountains peak in the distance while the mockingbird chirps along the pink and green salix of a willow tree.

Joel leans into you brushing his scruffy beard across your cheek, “I know you’d like it. Cmon.. let’s get to explorin’”

Joel jumps off the bike and crotches down to the leather satchel on the side of the Harley. He grabs two towels and a polaroid camera. Placing his denim jacket on the seat, trails of sweat travel down his neck making your mouth water. He looks like a god in the blistering sun. Joel lends a hand out helping you off the machine. From the intense vibrations of the motor, your legs feel like jelly when you stand up. Walking off the numbness, you two walk down to the willow tree overlooking the lake.

“This is perfect” you say, placing the cooler pack in the shady region. Grabbing the picnic blanket from the side, the checkered red and white cloth stretches along the grass. You kick your flip flops on opposite sides to keep it from blowing away. While you set everything up, Joel struts towards the lake. Overlooking the mountains, you gasp at the sight of his shirt effortlessly being stripped from his solid core, over his tousled curls. The muscles in his back flex as he rolls the tension out of his shoulders. His sun kissed skin exposes a beautiful alignment of freckles along his shoulders and back. Hands in his pockets, he turns to you smiling behind the reflected aviators. Rising to your knees, you prance towards Joel at the edge of the water.

“How’s it goin?” he questions putting an arm around you.

“We’re all set up, captain”

Joel’s hand cups your face drawing you in for a kiss. There’s a taste of salt on his lips when your tongues collide, fueling your hunger for more of Joel’s affection. Jumping into him, he wraps your body around him pulling you closer. The baby tee slips over your head, Joel becomes feral at the sight of your cherry bikini top. A soft groan rumbles in his chest.

“You know what cherries do to me”

“That’s why I wore it” biting your lip grinning.

“C’mon.. Daddy’s starvin’” Joel throws you over his shoulder making you squeal. Planting a little smack on your bottom, he makes way to the willow tree. Laughing and kicking your legs, you playfully shout, “Don’t drop me”. Joel delicately puts you down and sits up on the blanket. Opening the pack, you assemble two mason jars of strawberry lemonade, homemade fruit cups assorted with berries and citrus fruits, and chicken salad sandwiches. His eyes widen at the sight of his favorite foods.

“This looks amazing babe, you made all my favorites” Joel praises removing his aviators from his face.

Even after four years, his eyes make your heart melt like a popsicle that’s been left out in the middle of the desert. While eating lunch together under the willow tree, you gaze out into the field of sunflowers. The tall yellow stems whip from one side to the other letting its grass honey aroma make its way to your picnic. You’d love to take some home to liven up the dining room.

“Do you mind if I go pick some flowers, Joel”

“Go ahead, darlin” Joel says, gnawing on a strawberry.

Grabbing a pair of cutting scissors from the pack you run along the hill to the sunflowers. Joel turns to watch; he smiles at how your curls bounce along the red strings of your bikini. There’s concentration in your hand motions like one little hiccup in your cutting skills could damage the flower. Snipping the flowers one by one, Joel grabs for his Polaroid. He adjusts the lenses and snaps a shot of you. The film snakes out at the bottom of the camera, it’s perfect. Joel stands to his knees making his way towards you; his boots making loud crunches on the tall grass. Bringing the camera to eye level Joel hollers, “Smile”. Right as you turn around the camera clicks. You laugh and bring the fresh cut flowers to your face, only your eyelids are visible.

Hands waving in the air you dramatically plead, “Paparazzi, please! No pictures!”

“Cmon, kitten. I can never have too many pictures of your gorgeous face”

Lost in his eyes, you bring the bouquet of flowers to his chest and smile. He brings the camera to his eyes, but pauses before snapping the picture. He inches towards you and brings the bouquet closer to your face, only showing your eyelids. Sweeping a piece of hair out of the way, his digit glides along the bridge of your nose.

“Stunning” he compliments.

“Stay right there. That’s perfect, baby girl” Joel says, getting the camera ready. Your eyes curve from the hidden smile on your lips. The camera clicks and the polaroid prints out at the bottom.

“Lemme see” you say, dropping the flowers to your waist.

The polaroid clears up, a silent “Wow” paints along Joel’s lips. He can never have too many photos of you, but this one is like no other. The natural beauty exudes off the film. Your eyes and skin glow in the sun, your hair rests perfectly on your shoulders. The photo is like a lost memory from the past, like a flower child from the 1960’s. You’re timeless in the photograph.

“It’s nice” you say.

“Nice? It’s exquisite, darlin’. Might have to send it in to one of those fashion magazines you’re always readin’ ”

Chuckling, you kiss his lips and guide him back to the willow tree. While walking Joel’s hands find your back.

“Oohh kitten, you’re lookin’ a little red. You bring sunblock?”

You nod yes. Back under the willow tree, you unzip a side pocket and reach for the suntan lotion. Joel takes it from your hands and tells you to sit in front of him. His fingers swift your hair out of the way; the lotion topper pops and Joel squeezes dabbles of lotion in his palm. Rubbing his hands together, Joel’s warm hands massage your toasty shoulders. Between the cool moisturizer and Joel’s digits kneading into your skin, your body arches into his touch. You’re like an addict when it comes to Joel because he doesn’t just touch; he explores you. Every cell in your body is electrified the minute his digits make contact with your flesh. His hands exude a combination of protection, warmth, and desire leaving you with an overwhelming crave. Popping a slice of kiwi into your mouth, you look out into the horizon. Your eyes flutter as Joel’s touch moves down your back to your waist.

“Hmm.. that’s nice, Joel”

His body moves closer to yours until his torso and chest are kissing up against your back. Wrapping his arms around your tummy, his face rests on your shoulders. A tickle from his beard makes you quiver. Reaching for his hand, you guide him along the crevices of your chest.

“Can’t have these pretty lil babies get burnt” Joel grabs the tanning lotion and drizzles the creamy liquid on your chest. Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted he feeds your addiction. Gently rubbing in the lotion, his hand slips inside your bikini top. His lips nibble the nape of your neck while his firm hands knead and thumb your breast. Teeth grazing your bottom lip, you pathetically whimper his name. Before long, gray clouds shade a way the sun, the wind shifts in an opposite direction.

“Let’s go for a swim, kitten,” Joel whispers in your ear. Breaking the sexual tension, you agree. Joel gets up while you adjust yourself on the picnic blanket. Throwing his boots off, Joel unbuckles his pants leaving him in his boxer briefs.

“Where’s your bathing suit?” you question.

Lacing his digits around his waistline he smirks, “I don’t remember putting that on the list”

The fabric falls from his thighs; he stands there naked as Michelangelo’s David.

“Joel! Someone’s gonna see you” you’re head swinging from side to side.

He laughs “Nobody around but us, darling.”

He walks down to the lake while you watch every muscle in his back flex. His gorgeous toned ass bopping around freely. Tagging along, your body bounces along the water creating little ripples. Splashing, swimming, and laughing; your bikini slings to your wet skin. Joel bites his lip at the view of your nipples poking through your top.

“C’mhere” Joel grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. Your legs wrap around his waist while his arms snake around your back. You lean back letting your curls kiss the water. Joel pulls you back up running his digits through your soaked hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, shaking his head. Cocking your head down your eyes flirt, but then your heart skips at the feeling of your strings being untied.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?”

“What am I doin’?” he questions loosening the red string around your back. His fingers make their way to your neck playing with the second set of ties.

“Joel…” you whisper.

He hushes you with his lips, the ties come undone leaving you topless. The water temperature drops a couple degrees cooler as he slings the top over his shoulder. You look from side to side and Joel cups your face.

“Kitten, stop worryin’ so much. It’s just you and me. Focus on me..” the sentence ends with Joel’s mouth on yours. The tension settles and you do exactly what he says. All your focus is on him. One hand on his cheek while the other gets lost in his curls, you deepen the kiss. The taste of strawberry lemonade lingers on his tongue making you moan. Gripping onto his arm, you gasp at the feeling of his shaft brushing up against your bikini bottoms.

Joel’s hands cup your ass and you thrusts against his erection. “Take em off, Joel” you whimper. With one swoop, your bottoms strip away from your thighs; he tosses the garment over the same shoulder. Letting your body adjust to the cold temperature, Joel nuzzles his face into your neck making your heart race like the wind. His cock grows bigger as he feels your cunny close to him. Your crave for Joel is on overdrive.

“Joel… I---”

“Talk to me. What does my baby girl want?” he whispers along your collarbone.

“I.. aahh… I wanna ride you” you confess locking your digits into his curls.

“God I love you”, Joel growls. Steadying your thighs, you shriek his name while he enters your tight cunny. Inch by inch Joel’s cock fills your walls, making your nails claw into his skin. Catching your breath, you start rolling your hips into him creating ripples in the water. His big strong hands travel along your thighs and ass guiding you up and down on his shaft.

“J-Joel… God!” you shriek as you put more power into your thrusts. Stretching your chin to the gray sky, you sing out moans and squeals of pleasure. Lost in the sensation, a droplet of water plants on your nose, and then your forehead, and two more on your lips. The rumbling sound of thunder forces you to open your eyes. Before you two know it, Texas is downpouring on you feral little fiends.

“Good timing,” Joel laughs. The thunder, the rain, the rippling tide doesn’t stop you two. If anything, it adds to the excitement. You slick Joel’s hair back and kiss him hard on the lips.

“I have an idea.. Hold on to me” he commands. Grabbing onto his shoulders, Joel starts walking out of the lake and back to the willow tree. With his cock still inside your drenched cunny, you involuntarily continue thrusting and rolling your hips like your life depends on it. You body reacts like you could die if you stop feeling Joel.

“Mmm fuck, honey. This is a new move” he jokes as you continue riding him standing up. His firm hands on your ass making sure you don’t stop grinding; his slap makes your back arch. Finally making it to the picnic blanket, Joel lays you down on the soaked cotton. Soaked from head to toe, he follows the droplets of water dance on your skin. He kisses and licks every dribble of water that settles on your breasts to your tummy.

Roping your legs around his waist, you beg him to move. Teasing you at first, he sends a strong thrusts that makes you gasp in delight. His grinds grow deeper, your shrieks get louder, the rain continues to downpour. Like a shield, Joel’s body keeps you warm from the cold droplets.

“Ohhh Joel… Just like that” you pant, kissing his shoulders and massaging his back with your nails.

Grabbing his wrists, you place his hands around the side of your neck. Chin tilted to the sky, Joel grunts at how your skin gleams from the rainfall. He presses his hand lightly on your throat. A wicked smile curves along your lips feeling his mouth kiss and suck around your neck. You tug at his curls in encouragement.

“Joel.. I’m- getting close. You’re gonna…mmmmm…. make me come all over your thick cock” you hiss in his ear.

His hips snap into yours making you buck, but Joel’s strong hands grip onto your hip bone to keep you from squirming; you have no choice but to take all of him. Nails raking into Joel’s wet skin you endure every bit of pleasure he’s delivering inside your sweet cunny. Your sight grows hazy from hitting the peak of ecstasy.

“Come for me, kitten. I wanna feel you unravel on my cock. Mmm cmon, baby.. Come for me. Fuck.. be my good girl..”

He praises you with every thrust and grind until the most intense orgasm cripples every muscle fiber. You are drowning in immense pleasure, chanting over and over that you’re coming on his cock.

“Aaahh ff--fuck!” Joel grunts burying his face into your neck. Clenching your skin, Joel’s body shudders as his orgasm releases inside your warm cunny. Filling you to the brim, his hot seed starts dripping out of you. Your walls clench around him not wanting to let go. His breath echoes in your eardrums; you comfort him with delicate kisses around his shoulders and neck. Easing back from the high, you and Joel nestle into the afterglow. The rain starts to slow down, the salix from the willow trees protecting you both.

“That was amazing” Joel pants.

“You’re amazing”

As more time goes by, Joel agrees it’s time to go. Pulling clothes back on eachother’s bodies, you pack up the cooler and wrap the bouquet of sunflowers. Ready to hit the road, Joel questions, “Did you have a good day?”

“The best day ever”

One last kiss on the lips and Joel starts the Harley, the engine vibrations a little more intense the second time around. Back on the blacktop, Joel and you ride off into the Texas desert. The clouds part and the sun peeks through the gray sky. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

Tagging: @jazzy11scorpio @baronessvonglitter @littledes1re @pascalispunkczechia @katwriteshardy @joelsrose @foreveratlantica-blog @tateypots @mani-pedro @iamladyp @gothcsz @karaslqve @deaneatspie @xbeababyx

If I forgot to tag I’m sorry 😭❤️

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katssecretdiary · 8 days ago

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GIRL, NOT YOU STALKING MY ACCOUNT. WHY AM I GIGGLING LIKE I AMMMM I can't promise anything since, if you read the post, it says 2023 and girl, that was almost two years ago. I've been letting my imposter syndrome sabotage me for too long now. I love you endleslly though.

gigi's masterlist (to be filled)

here is all my work<3

–tws are in every story.

johnny (the bikeriders)

⭒burning desire.

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katssecretdiary · 8 days ago

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UGH, UGH, UGH. SHE DID IT AGAIN. Twisting the most beautiful, kind-hearted men to walk Earth and turning them into... men I'm obsessed with. Oh, and on the obsessed note; "I told you to be good. I won't repeat myself again, puppy. Do you understand?" His knuckles comnected with your cheekbone, with a burning sound and a horrifying pain. "I can be good to you, but I need you to be good first", WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK. I'm insane, I'm going insane. And come for me but I need Harry Castillo dragging me by the hair and calling me puppy. THERE, I SAID IT, COME FOR ME.

DARK ⸘ HARRY CASTILLO && READER.

❝ MAN'S BEST FRIEND ❞ ⍀

DARK CONTENT AHEAD. ALL COPYRIGHTS TO ©THEHYDRAETHEREAL TAGS | @pedrosyouknowwhat ; @katwriteshardy ; @essraxi ; @highonmarvel; @koshkaj-blog. PEDRO PASCAL MASTERLIST | MAIN M.

ˀ⍀❝ REQUESTS OPENED - PROMPTS && WARNINGS

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, fighting to conquer the waterline and spill over your cheeks, as you glanced around the hotel bar again. The similar vesperal gowns and expensive suits were strolling around, extravagant and strong drinks in their hands.

Your family promised they would meet you here, in this bar, for your birthday, after you suggested they spend the evening with you. Your naivety almost made you laugh, but it was your family, on your birthday, that didn’t show up and still you were the one that felt awfully guilty.

Wiping at your smudged mascara from the skin under your eyes, you tried to make your way through the infant crowds of people towards the marble counter. You craved a drink more than anything else.

After sitting down and looking at the prestigious drink menu through your tears, you felt a light but firm touch of fingertips on your bare shoulder. You flinched and looked up at the person through your lashes, hoping you would see a familiar face, but a pair of coaly dark eyes met yours.

The suit was accentuating his confident and strong energy, and it made you feel small. Dark facial hair, sprinkled with silvery stripes was adorning his chiseled and defined jaw, and the subtle scrunches on his proeminent nose made you aknowledge his smirk, directed to you.

"You look lost. Out of this place, if I were to be honest...", were the first words he adressed you, as he sat down.

You only shrugged, moving a little further from the unknown, older man, and shook your head weakly. "Yeah...it doesn't matter."

He raised his brows, sucking the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Well, in this case, you have to have a drink. My treat, darling."

Your mind wasn't comprehending anything, the exahustion and crying leaving their amprents, especially not a probably successful man spending his late evening with you. You tried to feel uncomfortable, as an excuse for yourself to leave, but couldn't. You didn't even know his name, but you were letting him provide you a drink.

"Can I, uh...Can I at least know your name?", you shyly asked, caging your lower lip between your teeth.

"Castillo, my dear. Harry Castillo.", he grinned, then turned towards the mixologist. "A smoked cherry bounce and a marasca fizz for the lady here, and a glass of Macallan. With ice.", he gestured with two of his fingers, heavy golden rings snaked around the thick, calloused limbs.

You frowned, and looked behind, stomach jumping as your eyes caught the golden letters that spelled 'CASTILLO', decorating the wall behind the reception. Was it a coincidence? It couldn't be.

The maroon drinks were put in front of your hands, the strong and sweet scent of bitter cherries making you dizzy. Gripping the cold glass in your palm, you sipped and let the powerful aroma of alcohol do its job.

Harry's eyes were only set over you as he took a large sip from his whisky, and the intensity of his gaze almost made you squirm in your seat.

"So...", you started, desperately wanting to find out more about him, "do you own this...place?". The alcohol had started to numb your senses, eyelids feeling heavy.

Harry laughed, the icy fog on his glass slowly disappearing at the warmth of his fingertips. "I do, yeah...I own many, many places."

You rose your brows, trying to nod but your tongue felt heavy. You were only a couple of sips in and you were drunk? So fast?

"You don't look well. I'll take you somewhere...private. It's good that you're with me, imagine if there would have been someone else instead of me.", the older man tsked, grabbing your forearm without a second thought, and pulling you through short hallways. You couldn't see clearly, so you closed your eyes, allowin him to guide you. It's not like you had other choice. Everything was happening so swift.

"I will get you some water", Harry grunted, placing you on a wooden table as you got into an infant room. "Th-ank y-you...", you mumbled, scrunching your eyes harshly.

"There, there...", he whispered, pushing the glass of water to your lips. Stripes of cold liquid traced your chin, all the way down to your exposed neck as you drank.

You heard Harry's darkish chuckle, and, suddenly, you felt his rings biting at the flesh of your throat. At first, you thought he was wiping the drops of water off your neck, but then, he squeezed. Whining, you pushed at his chest, but the weak attempt made him grip your neck tighter.

"C'mon, puppy...be good."

The nickname sent shivers dancing all over your skin and panic setted in your veins. "Wh-what are y-you...do-doing?", you whined as his fingers played with the fabric of your short dress, hand still under your jaw, grip relentless.

Extending your hand, you pushed at his own that was attempting to pull up the edges of your clothing.

Growling, he released your neck and, in an instance, his hand was squeezing your cheek. "I told you to be good. I won't repeat myself again, puppy. Do you understand?"

You whimpered under your breath, as he was forcing you to lie back on the knee-high table. "Pl-please...no. Please", you tried, sobs escaping your chest as Harry settled his knee between your thighs.

Your clit jolted twice in fearful expectation, and your heart punched your ribcage and sternum. How did you get in this situation?

"P-please, let m-me go", you sobbed, as Harry's fingers were toying with the waistband of your panties. "I w-won't tell, just don't—".

His knuckles comnected with your cheekbone, with a burning sound and a horrifying pain. Microscopic droplets of blood splashed over his own face, as the warm liquid traced the skin of your face from the small cut on your face. The power of the hit frightened you and your figure went rigid and cold, eyes as wide as cherry pies, laced with hot tears.

"You close that pretty mouth in my presence, unless I tell you otherwise, puppy. I can be good to you, but I need you to be good first", the older man declared, thumb tracing your clothed slit.

"Now, you should thank me—", Harry mumbled, hand snaking under your bottom to pull your core over his thigh, "—for not dragging you by your hair in front of all those people for being so resistent."

"Don't worry though, puppy...", he continued, as he rubbed your pelvis up and down his leg, making a choked moan build up in your throat, "that will be an activity for our next date."

NOTES ⍀ˁ ...I NEED THERAPHY AND HARRY CASTILLO TO PUT ME IN MY PLACE lmao. HOPE Y'ALL ENJOYED IT. I FINISHED THIS AT TWO A.M WHILE I WAS SLEEPY AF SO IDK-- LUV Sabrina and that fuckin' cover, IDC.

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katssecretdiary · 8 days ago

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Over and over again, you keep demonstrating yourself and others (the ones lucky enough to read your amazing work) that you have an amazing talent when it comes to creating, crafting, shaping, writing and bringing to life these wonderful worlds and —dangerous and yet, breathtakingly— characters. This is no short of it. Back to a few weeks ago when I read it for the first time —and read it like five times that same night, the feelings of excitement, thrill and the never-ending giggles of a schoolgirl kept getting stronger. Tonight, reading it all over again, I feel it all a thousand times more. And it's excellent. You never fail to bring chills to my body with your version (Venus' version ba dum tss) of Acacius. It's impossible for me to finish one of your works with my eyes being dry, or my skin not getting chills, or not trying to catch my breath after the rollercoaster of emotions. I eat it up every single time, I love it too much, I'm addicted. When Acacius called me out for the first time “My wife,” I had to take a breather because I knew hell was about to unleash and the anticipation let me feeling dizzy. Him being taunting, patronizing, condescending, smug of the power he holds and—

“I shall break your kneecaps, then drag you after my horse through all Rome. And, when it would be over, people would call it mercy.” A whimper fought its way out from your pained throat.

I am not kidding, that whimper actually left me because— poor fucking woman, oh my god. Screaming, crying, shaking and throwing tf up because I REQUESTED THIS and yet I couldn't handle it because, of course, you always go above and beyond, you make it perfect, you make it tragically perfect. You are perfect, Venus. The cherry on top, and I don't think I've ever given you props for this but this is my chance to do it, your ending lines are always so on point. It feels like the last blow in the back of the head before everything goes black, and then I'm sat there with my phone on my hands, tears in my eyes and a taunting voice whispering "read it again". That's what happened with “—we will see how rebellious you are with my heir growing inside of you.” That's what always happens. You're the absolute fucking goat. AND if you think this is the last of me requesting about this absolute masterpiece— WRONG. If I had it my way this would be a never ending series but one, you can't waste all your talent on my whims or anyone else's but yours and two, even though how much I love dark fiction my soft heart can't let her endure this pain forevermore. I love you. T H A N K Y O U for this, for everything.

VENUS BABY AAAAAAAAHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS I POUTED WHEN I READ YOUR COMMENT AND HONESTLY? YOU'RE LIKE MY IDOL GIRL <3 IF I EVER START PUBLISHING MY WORKS, JUST KNOW IT WAS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU (and @pedrosyouknowwhat)

Back to biz 🙂‍↕️ I'd like to put in a request, please <3

This will be basically the continuation of my last request because your prompts just made me go back to it and ugh, I loved it too much to let it go so easily. The way you write dark Acacius >>>

Prompts are: ⒙ Him finding your "escape" bag and burning it in front of you and⒐ Saying you made him do this while cleaning your bruises in that order because— because.

I just picture it. Reader has had enough, doesn't want that life for herself anymore and plans an escape with the help of her servants. And Acacius is out of the house for X reason, and she takes that time to pack her bag in plans to go away from Acacius, maybe back to her father's house, maybe out of Rome for good. But he comes home, sees her trying to hide her emotions and finds the bag, and... well, nine prompt.

Warning tags are the same as last time; age gap, abusive relationship, power imbalance, physical abuse, heavy domestic violence, manhandling.

THANKKKKK YOUUUUU A ZILLION TIMES AGAIN. I CAN'T WAIT <3333 (I can, pls take your time so you don't burn yourself out baby)

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 ههههه

dark GENERAL ACACIUS && wife ! reader

PROMPTS && MAIN M. && PEDRO PASCAL M. ههههه (PREQUEL) LINK HERE

NOTES: This is the first thing I've written after my break (1.8 K words MY LONGEST WORK YET OMG) and I can only hope it is at least readable and enjoyable. My love for DARK Acacius will never fade away, and I wish I am one of the writers that can give him to you, but in a beautiful and derranged way as well. Please tell me your thoughts, they are welcomed always! Now, for my beloved @katwriteshardy, I thank you again for requesting this. You make me too hapoy and I am honestly looking forward to you requesting something again. Can't wait to read your feedback and to talk about this one with you. I love you ˁˀ PLEASE PUBLISH YOUR MF WORK, I NEED IT LOL

Your body instinctively flinched, tendons of your heart curling in themselves, as Acacius rose from the table. He wore his armor still, darkened eyes settling upon the guard that presented next to him to report the state of the army he sent to the North African kingdom. His brows furrowed as the guard breathlessly narrated, and all of a sudden, the general struck the table with both his hands, so violent that tears sprung straightaway in your eyes. "By the gods, I’ll skin the bastard who led that charge. Whose orders did they follow? Because they weren’t mine.", the general growled and you could almost feel the anger radiating off of his figure.

“Ready my horse. Rouse the commanders—I want every man armed and accounted for by nightfall. Tell the harbor—my ship sails at dawn. No delays. I move with the sunrise. If those filthy barbarians want this, I will give it to them. I will have my armor, my blade and their blood over me by the rise of the moon.”

You looked up at him while you gripped your skirts subconsciously in an attempt to stop your insides from trembling. His words never failed to terrify you.

But as you watched him step away from you, jaw clenched in pure madness, and as you unclasped your fingers from the soft fabric, you realised you could not live like this any longer. This wasn’t you, but the remains of a shell of your existence. You had to leave.

The eyes of the new stable boy shyly looked over your figure as you strolled by him. He was a couple of springs younger than you. You often saw how he turned his face away when Acacius grabbed you or spoke to you, not wanting to witness your endless pain. You stopped your walk and, while watching upon his bowed posture, you let your voice free.

“Can you be trusted?”, you asked, voice cracking as his eyes pierced yours. You raised your brows, expecting an answer and he gave you a small nod. “Very well. I will send you my maid, she will tell you how you can be of service.”, you whispered. “Please…I need your loyalty", you said to him, and the sudden vulnerability made him shift. “Yes, my Lady.”

“My queen.” The title made you flinch as a strong, gold-wrapped hand snaked around your ribcage. The boy quickly looked down and you could almost see Acacius’s cruel gaze, even though your eyes were on the dusty ground.

“I will have to leave. Duty calls for me", the General growled, kissing the palm of your hand. You tried to give him a small smile, but his hand was already cupping your chin. “I have the trust that you will not do anything stupid until I return”, he finished.

You shook your head and his lips were on yours, devouring your mouth. Then, you watched him stroll away and the scrunching of the gates closing was the confirmation you needed. Marcus Acacius left and you were yet to be free.

You and your maids spent the entire night preparing a tiny wooden cart with keepsakes too beloved to leave. Your mother’s wedding dress, worn again at your own, as custom demanded, was a bittersweet memory which you had to take with you.

The ring your first lover had carved out of a santal tree, the bracelet your father had gifted you when you turned sixteen, the mortar you had used as a child—everything you loved was wrapped carefully in clean rags and put in the cart.

A few guards, once sworn to your father, now to you between the constricting walls of the villa, kept watch for your safety and discretion, and the boy at the stables went to bring you bread, figs, olives, ointments and water for the lengthy trip that stood before you.

You needed to leave Rome as fast as possible. Even the air was making your insides churn, choking your senses and souring your gut.

The cart had been triumphantly finished and hidden among other carts full of hay, but you were not sure it made it out the great gates of Rome.

You were left at the villa, it would have been too dangerous and suspicious if you left along with the humble cart, and just had to wait for the man that would guide you towards Praeneste.

Then, you would run to the Colli Albani mountains and from there, you would be able to start a fresh life, where fear, pain and dominance would be only stray memories.

With one last vague, disgusted gaze upon the mighty marble villa, you turned your head to go inside and change for the trip.

But your dreams vanished when the first drop of burning light of the sunrise hit your skin and the pounding of hooves shattered the silence of early morning.

“It…It can’t be—”, you sobbed to yourself as the gates opened. The burgundy of a mantle sewn with gold caught your teary pupils. You could recognize it anywhere.

You raised your eyes, looking at your husband through wet lashes. Your heart was punching your ribcage and instinctively, you took a couple of infant steps back.

“My wife,” Acacius called a smug smirk planted on his face, as he approached you, still riding on the stallion. Everything in your being screamed at you to keep your calmness, but the moment overwhelmed you. The questions kept flowing—’Why was he not gone?’, ‘Why is he back?’, ‘Did he find out?’, ‘What will he do?’.

“You seem frightened and distressed, my love,” he furrowed his brows and pouted his lips tauntingly at you. You took another step back, now that he was on the ground. He raised his hands, looking back at his soldiers, at your lack of words and they started laughing.

“Is there something I should know?”, he asked and blood froze in your veins. He always used this tone before he would hurt you, that honeyed tone, that pretend pout.

You caught your lip between your teeth, tears starting to blur everything but that damn maroon cape.

“Answer me,” Acacius growled, trying to maintain his composure. “No,” you spoke, too swiftly.

“No?,” he puffed, chest heaving with an unamused chuckle.

“If not, then—,” he started and gestured towards someone, “—what is this?”, he finished, voice dropping an octave.

It was clear and light as daylight, he knew. The very first tear caressed your cheek, leaving a long stripe of wet agony as your husband’s calloused finger was tracing it. The cart—your small cart—was dragged inside the courtyard.

“Did you try to run from me, hm? Did you try to leave me?”. His voice was torturous, and his hand felt heavy on your cheek.

You felt every stripe of skin on his fingertips, every drop of shedded blood, every particle of ash, and it constricted your throat.

He released your face with a light push, and he walked away towards the gates.

“Bring them in”, he gestured disgustedly towards a couple of his men.

The faces of your maids and the stable boy, littered with cuts and dirt, stared back pleadingly at you, their eyes darkened with fear.

“NO!”, your scream was visceral and raw, and it was bruising your throat as you let it out. Falling on your knees, your fingers wrapped around the crimson, heavy cape of the General. “Please, my lord, p-please—”, you whimpered, eyes darting from his dark, captivating eyes to their restrained bodies.

A guard was pushing the young boy on his knees, while another was tearing at the dress of your closest handmaid. Her pleads were echoing through your skull.

“The crosses are already prepared for them. Betrayal is not forgiven.”, Acacius stated, looking down at your knuckles on his clothes. The words made the people that helped you plead to him, terror lacing their tones.

Acacius raised his hand and flinged it twice and the screams were getting further. He crouched next to your crawling body and his hand came behind your head. His fist wrapped in your silky hair and he forced you to look at him.

“I shall break your kneecaps, then drag you after my horse through all Rome. And, when it would be over, people would call it mercy.” A whimper fought its way out from your pained throat.

“But how can I do that to my beautiful wife? Even though you wanted to humiliate and shame my name, I will not do that.”, he growled and you let your eyelids cover your eyes, knowing what he was yet to say or do would be much worse.

But he never spoke, and, as he raised up, he dragged you up by your hair. Your voice gave up on you moments ago, and you could only whine brokenly.

Bending your spine, he smashed your body against his chest. “Burn it”, you felt his hard chest rumbling as he spoke out these words.

You broke into a sob when you saw moths of ash falling down from the torch one of the guards was carrying. When it landed upon the cart, flames started eating at the wood and at your beloved trinkets. You felt waves of fresh tears burning your cheeks as the fire consumed everything you had dearer.

“Please—p-please, just stop i-it, I am begging you—”, you hoarsely cried, but his fingers tightened in your scalp and his bicep curled against your chest tightened you closer to him. His pelvis rubbed discomfitingly against your back as you squirmed in the uneasy position he was holding you in.

“No, NO! Marcus, st-stop it—”, you screamed when the wood started creaking under the unbearable heat. Strings and torn pieces of your dresses were flying around, looking like burnt butterflies. “Am I not merciful enough? I could have had your tongue cut in the center of the market, most men do that to disobedient wives for less. Do you want me to turn these words into truth?”, he yelled, lips pressed tightly to your ear.

You delicately shook your head with the strength you had left in your body, and your husband flipped you so you would be able to face him. His large palm curled over your neck, as he pulled your face closer. With rough but careful fingers, he tried to clean the small cuts and scratches across your face.

“You forced my hand, my love. All those people, who lived under my roof, are dying right now…It was you who made this happen.” His words made your whole body jerk, guilt ringing in your stomach.

“I will tie your hands to the altar and take you there if you run again. I’ll put my child in you on those stones. You will cry while my seed settles. And if the gods are cruel enough to spare you the first time, I will come back the next moon and try again. I will fill you and then—”, he growled, touching your belly with the back of his fingers and knuckles “—we will see how rebellious you are with my heir growing inside of you.”

TAGS: @pedrosyouknowwhat @highonmarvel @essraxi

#venus is the goat #i still don't know how to use hashtags

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katssecretdiary · 2 months ago

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First of all, I want to thank you SO much for taking in my request and taking the time and energy off your days to write it. I truly, deeply appreciate and I am HONORED to say the least.

The little backstory provided about reader's life with her father was so heartbreaking. The juxtaposition of her life then and her life now was truly saddening, and I love how you added it to the story to give it more depth. It truly showcases your writing talent.

One of my favorite things too (to not say all of the work IS my favorite) is that I was so immersed in the story that I felt Acacius' hands on me. Felt myself flinched. Felt the fear run through my entire body. As if I was there for every wicked threat hidden behind his soft voice, as if I was there for every assault.

When he said:

"When I command something, you have no say in it, haven't I taught you that, my little lamb?"

"Tell me, you like when I put my hands on you?" "Then why do you make me do this?"

So twisted. I love it too much and I hope you don't judge me for it. It's just so well written. I can't stop reading over and over the sentences that he spit with so much... desdain.

"... If you shame me one more time, I will ruin you so thoroughly that even the crows will pity what is left."

When I tell you I had to put my phone down. I put my phone down. I turned over in my chair and took a deep breath. And then I unlocked my phone again and re-read it. And I was left breathless.

Honestly, this was better than I could ever have imagined. You managed to bring dark Acacius to life so in sync with his character, that's so soft and a man of good values and principles, that I admire you so much for it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you a ZILLION times not only for this, but to come here and willingly share your work with us. It's a blessing and an honor.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

Character: General Marcus Acacius.

Trigger warnings: age gap (maybe reader is the daughter of someone from the Senate), power dynamic (he's the General a.k.a HOT), physical abuse, harassment, threats, fear kink, manhandling, manipulation maybe ?

I was honestly just thinking of Acacius putting on the facade of a caring, loving and dotting husband when he's scorting reader to the market to buy some food for dinner and at some point she does something he does not like and she flinches at his reaction. He's an abusive man close doors because he's obsessed with reader and deep down fears she's going to run away from him or something like that, I leave it to you obviously, I read your work and god, breathtaking to say the least

CORIANDER UNDER THE FIG TREE ههههه

senator's daughter.ᐟ reader && dark.ᐟgeneral acacius

.ᐟ trigger warnings: My work contains dark themes such as physical abuse, power imbalance, age gap, harassment, threats, phsyhological terror and other possible triggering elements. Proceed with caution. If these warnings trigger you, DO NOT INTERACT. 𝒜cces my DARK PROMPTS, my WHEEL OF INSPIRATION, my MASTERLIST and send in more REQUESTS.

ههههه

A shaky breath leaves your chest as you stroll next to the aged fig tree which marked the beginning of the market. And then, the scent hits you—coriander. Its citrusy and spicy aroma was the characteristic, consoling element that marked your childhood.

Whenever you touch the darkened green leaves, sadness overflows you.

Your father, Ghauccus, often let you stand among the servants. You were much beloved due to your father’s kindness, everybody loved to see his sweet child growing up so gorgeously. The maids often let you ground spices in the bronze mortar—an activity you loved doing, especially during summer evenings, after you had tired yourself running after fireflies and the moths that gathered around flames that illuminated the garden and vines. Notwithstanding their chuckles at how heavy the pestle was for your infant hands, you were still encouraged and strength was manifested over you ever since you were a youngster.

A custom you and your father honorated religiously was the first quarters of the moon, spent within the folds of forgotten stories or legends about women that shaped their own fate and destiny—no matter how darkened it seemed. You still felt your father’s fingertips grazing your lower back, showing you his deep affection and cherishment whenever you shared a walk in the open.

You flinch hard as you feel the general’s —your husband's— fingers gripping your hip and pulling you nearer his grander body. Your ribs are adorned by burgundy marks and a tiny whimper escapes your throat as the bruised flesh is pressed against the gilded armor with drops of gold which poke your skin mercilessly.

People bow their heads as he passes by with you on his arm, even though a couple of elders eye him with a disgusted glare and you...with pity. As they remember who your father was and who your husband is. They all view his as a tyrant for serving the twin Emperors so respectfully but you are the one that knows he certainly wants the throne somehow. You know about the plots and about his aspirations of becoming the Emperor of Rome soon. And the thought terrifies you.

You can already tell, by the way the muscles in his jaw clench and tick, that your "stunt" has maddened him. Fear constricts your throat and you feel your chest burning, so you try your best to brush the event off your husband's mind.

"W-we should buy more herbs, and I will have the maids prepare you the dish you l-like so much—", you try to speak, but Acacius lowers his head to speak in your ear and the words die on your tongue.

"We will return home, my love.", he growls and you already feel tears burning in your eyes. Home? You don't want to go "home". You know how rarely he lets you out and you know what will happen to you when you arrive back to the villa so you try to delay the inevitable by lingering in this moment.

"P-please, my lord, please...", your eyes bore pleadingly in his coal black ones as you try to steady your whispering voice. "Please, no, let's stay a little longer—".

"No?", he cuts you off again, and you feel his grip tightening. The deep chuckle that erupts from his broad chest sounds more like a growl and again, you feel small, powerless, you feel like a lamb to the slaughter. "When I command something, you have no say in it, haven't I taught you that, my little lamb?", he continues, as if he heard your thoughts.

You nod your head weakly, as you graze your eyes over the marketplace one more time. The coriander you willed to buy lies now forgotten on a wooden table as fear curses through your veins.

As soon as your feet hit the marble floors, and Acacius knows he is not under people's gaze anymore, you feel his hands on you. He grips the back of your neck and drags you to himself. You don't have time to scream, plead, beg—only to whimper—, as his lips press to your ear. "Tell me, you like when I put my hands on you?"

When you only move your head in a silent no, too choked by your own sobs and tears, he shakes your body harshly. "Answer me!", he says, trying to keep his voice down, inhaling and exhaling, visibly overly angered.

"N-no...", you cry out in the silence of the house.

The general grabs your waist next and he slams your body in the wall. You fell the copper of the blood in your mouth as he presses himself against your back. "Then why you make me do this?"

Both of his massive, calloused hands that killed so many, wrap around your wrists, pushing them next to your head. The general's massive figure makes your lungs burn, air simply not reaching them.

"My queen, why do you have to be so diffucult? ", he asks you again, and even under the heavy robes, you feel his hard member poking at your lower back. A sob escapes your lips and you feel a warm, thin trace of blood running down your chin, along with fresh tears. He always gets disgustingly excited whenever he feels your muscles tensing with fear. Another thing you loathe about him.

"I give you everything, don't I? I am a good husband, I am wealthy and I will make you my queen one day, and you still act so ungratefully."

He retreats from you all of a sudden and your knees give up on your weight, making your body collapse on the ground on your palms and the skin tears open on them. Teardrops fall, wetting the expensive marble carved with bronze. Acacius's hand fists itself in your hair and he slowly pushes your head up. His eyes scan your terrified features and the blood that starts to dry on your face and he licks his lips at the sight. You feel like you are nothing but a pile of broken limbs at the general's feet.

He runs his thumb over your lips that are trembling, and pushes it in your mouth, letting it rest heavily on your hot tongue.

You screw your eyes shut as he pushes it further, almost touching the back of your throat with it. "Look at me.", he commands and you obey immediately when he grips your jaw harshly with the other fingers. "You are mine by right. If you shame me one more time, I will ruin you so thoroughly that even the crows will pity what is left."

You flinch at the threat, and terror settles deep in your bones.

The general retreats the finger from your mouth and grips your cheeks with his entire hand. The look in his eyes was, for a brief moment, vulnerable. The only vulnerable thing in him.

Another tear slipped down your face and, combined with your blood, it painted his hand in a powdered pink stripe.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I'll give you a real reason to.", the man finished, standing up high.

"I expect you in the bedroom. You have wife duties to attend. And if you refuse, I will fuck the disobedience out of you under the sun’s gaze — and when everyone will spit on you as a whore, you’ll know you earned it."

You choked on a sob as he left, and your blurry vision caught one of your servants, one of the servants that let you ground the coriander in your father's home, look at you with tears in her eyes. There was nothing you could do but stand up and join your husband.

⋆↝ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: So, when I saw your request in my inbox, I was literally SO. HAPPY. because I've been seeing your reblogs and you read good stuff and it was really encouraging that you are reading MY shit 😭 ♡ Thank you, my love and I really hope this reaches your expectations. I LOVED WRITING THISSS

⋆↝ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @highonmarvel @pedrosyouknowwhat @essraxi ♡

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katssecretdiary · 2 months ago

Text

Joel Miller Fix-it Fics

Fics to erase and replace tlou 2 episode 2

I will gather every fix-it fic I find, and put them here. Please feel free to comment and reblog with what you’ve written, and I’ll add it!

Just a Dream by @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

So much to lose: stay by @auteurdelabre

Still here with me by @layaispunk

I’m here by @othersidedd

Consequences by @ohraicodoll

Untitled by @penvisions

There There by @whocaresstillthelouvre

What remains of us by @stylesispunk

Trouble by @forever-rogue

Blessings by @sizzlingcloudmentality

Home by @guiltyasdave

Don’t go by @iamasaddie

Untitled by @joelspeach

Home 4-part series by @goodwithcheese

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katssecretdiary · 2 months ago

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Honestly, when I first put this request in I knew it was going to be fantastic as you are. Fantastic as you always make every single thing. This was NO short of it, it was pure and raw them.

My main thoughts that made me have to change my panties (lol) were Joel putting me in my place and making me ride his boot only for him to not let me cum when I'm at the edge. And him obviously having to reassure himself I'm his and only his even if he has to share with the others.

AND Frankie's scene. God's sake. Reader finally getting something from him after yearning for him for so long, and the cherry on top was that Joel saw it all. And now he knows she's got a thing for Frankie and I'm wet and my mind's spiraling just by thinking how Joel's going to twist it in his mind.

The main lesson here is: I'm not here for my pleasure and they don't care about it. Because let's be honest, even if Javier, Whiskey, Marcus (c'mon, Marcus) did it —in their way—, they all did for their own pleasure.

I LOVE YOU, RED. I missed you so much and can't wait for the next part. My heart aches because I know this little heaven will end someday but I'm grateful for all of your work and for you.

Hi beautifulllll I have a request whenever you have time!

For Falling From Grace, what if reader asks them to cum on her tits or face, whatever but for HER pleasure, because she wants it.

Like, one of them does it to her first and she realizes she likes it so much she asks for all of them, on their days, to do it to her.

And it'd be more of (I'd leave this to your choice, obvi) one sentence of their reaction, either words or their actions but in one sentence.

So, I'm thinking Whiskey'd be like

"Attagirl, open up that pretty mouth wide"

or Marcus Acacius just...

Slaps her face roughly as if she just demanded the most outrageous thing because who does she think she is to draw pleasure from his pleasure?

THANK U IN ADVANCE LOVE YA

omg gorgeous what a mindddd

dark! stuff below the cut!!

deep in stockholm syndrome, already broken in reader.

Joel Miller

He's up till late, fixing some batteries or some shit like that

You are huddled between his thick thighs, mouth bobbing gently along his cock- as he told you. "No fancy stuff, puppy, just need a place to stuff my cock."

Your jaw aches, and the way you pick up your pace when you realize your eyes are fluttering for sleep has him bouncing soles against the floor.

He's about to grab a fistful of your hair and get it over with when the loud pop surprises him, followed by the cool breeze over his wet dick.

He looks down at your shape, obscured by the table. Your lips are swollen and your naked body almost shivers.

If he moved his boot an inch or two it would be just under your naked pussy.

But his gaze flickered back to your hesitant eyes, intimidated by his scowl.

The silence was a sign to continue.

"C-can you cum on me?"

Your voice barely above a whisper, barely audible at all.

He froze. Tempting idea.

Your nipples pebbled as you rose up bit, ribs digging against the chair he was man spreading in.

You propped your elbows on his thighs and carefully wrapped a hand around his spat on cock. You angled his cock towards your chest, searching for approval in his face.

Wrong. His grip on your hair brought you to your feet, as sudden as the attack of a snake in the grass.

Loose bits of wire and tools dug into your back as he pressed you over the table.

You whined as his heavy body slotted right over yours, spare hand aligning his cock with your swollen cunt.

"Wanna waste my cum?" He barked at your ear, and your scalp burned. "Got all the other boys to cum on your slutty body, not me baby."

He pushed his cock in with no kindness, and you realized you had fucked up.

Javier Peña

Baby boy needs to make sure he was hearing right, your breathy little moans filling his head with air

"cum on my ass." You mewl, almost loosing your grip on the blanket. His cock pistoned in and out, and then stuttered.

His thick arm reached around your front, pulling you against his damp abs. His cock dug impossibly deeper, and your head reeled into his shoulder

"Huh?" He groaned, before licking a stripe against your cheek. you squirmed.

"C-cum on my ass, please." You repeated, shame spreading against your cheeks.

He let you go, still impaled in his cock, and your body jerked against the sheets

You moaned as he slipped his cock out of you, clenching around painfully nothing

His hand groped your ass tightly, spreading you open as he aimed with the same ability he had done years ago

Hot, wet cum spurted all over your holes, and you eyes shut in bliss

"Que preciosa te ves empapada."

Agent Whiskey

He's fucking your throat first thing he does when he's back from work

Preening at your enthusiasm, he curses "There there, pretty whore, milk my fucking cock dry."

You are unable to speak clearly as the pubic hair nestled on the base of his cock tickles against your nose. But he hears your pretty little whimpers and babbles, and pulls away, letting you catch some air.

"On-On my face." You plead, between gulps of breathe. His eyebrows scrunch.

"Don't like the taste honey?" He asks, a bit offended. You shake your head hastily, fear mingling in your action.

"Like how it feels." You whisper shyly, forcing a grin to tug at his lips; just under the well groomed mustache.

He holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail, his cock tapping at your lips as he beguns fisting

"Attagirl, open up that pretty mouth wide" He growls. "Don't wanna waste all of it."

Oh he loves how your face scrunches with excitement and nerviousness, lips parting coyly, it's just enough to send him over the edge, painting your face in white

Oberyn Martell

Your face is planted against the pillow, etched with concern as Oberyn's broad shoulders cage you into the bed

His weight is warm and suffocating, each slow and sensual rut of his hips sending your eyes to the back of your skull

"Tell me, my darling," He purrs, flicking strands away from your hair. "what is it you desire?"

Your thighs spread, almost begging for more, and your voice is slurred with sex. "Oberyn."

He chuckles, inhaling the scent of your hair as his knees support his tortuously slow fucking

He knows what he's doing, he wants you to beg

"cum on- whine- cum on my- cum outside my pussy."

He tuts, a deep stroke making you bite the pillow case.

He picks up his pace, and you squirm at how quickly he does.

"Nah baby," He mutters, leaning back onto his heels as his thighs encase yours, holding you still. "this cunt is made to take my cum, to have it clenching around me as I keep you filled."

You hum, his words setting you on fire.

"Don't want to carry my bastard, is it that baby?" He presses, and you are too fucked out to string a sentence together, but you shook your head against the silky pillow case. He sighs, intrigued. "such a dirty girl."

Marcus Acacius

You'd be too terrified to even ask

His body dwarfs yours, and your knees almost falter as his cock plummets in your ass

You know the two digits he has shoved into your cunt aren't for your pleasure, but you soak them thoroughly.

Despite the way your hole envelops him, he wishes to cum in your warm, wet pussy- but the idea comes a second too late, and the way your ass clenches around him as he pulls away is enough to have him painting your globes round

You gasp at the sensation, hips buckling back and pushing his fingers deeper, his knuckle grazes your clit and it's game over

You cum around his fingers- a thing Marcus, for some reason, hates

The conversation he had that morning with Joel resounds in his ears. "The little whore asked me to cum all over her, don't know who got those ideas on her head."

He had grumbled something back, "Probably Catfish."

His nostrils flared as red hot anger licked at his fists, curling his fingers deep inside her, enough to send her wailing

He abruptly pulled his hand away and used the wet heel of his palm to slap at your cunt. Cum, arousal and redness smeared all over your back side.

With an iron grip on your locks, he turned you around, using the same hand to slap your face to the side

"Sloppy slut," He howled, seeing how tears bloomed from your eyes. "I'm gonna leave you drenched, let's see how much cum you can take."

Frankie Morales

"Cum on her face." Joel orders. and Catfish has to pretend not to understand.

He looks away from the wall -where he had perched his gaze in an attempt not to look at what was happening before him- and over his shoulder, to Joel.

He holds that dangerous glint in his eyes as he sips the amber liquid from his glass.

"You heard me." He repeats, and his eyes linger on the growing tent of Catfish's jeans.

He has to look at you, spare you some dignity. Your bruised body draped over the coffee table. Your eyes flutter open, looking for him in the dimly lit room

He holds room for a moment of hesitance, almost flinching when Joel sighs and plants his glass on the table

From the second his boots plant on the floor in front of you and you get on your knees, he feels remorse all over him

You flinch at the zipper, but your eyes stay observant, and the flicker of eager goes unknown to him

He's like a god, and you are his foolish servant, waiting for a drip of his mercy

He get's it over with quickly, hand fisting his cock in quick motions until he grasps your chin gently and aims at your cheeks

Your eyes clench but your mouth parts with a silent gasp, the thick substance coating your face; his groans echoes in your ears, a sweet melody

He doesn't see the way your tongue darts to lap at his juice, but Joel does

Dieter Bravo

Of-fucking-course Javier would be bragging about how you asked him to cum all over him

Whiskey would say something similar, and it woudl get him reeling

The clock strikes 12 on friday and he's hauling you to his room, slamming you on the bed and locking the door - against Catfish's wishes

He's been pounding into you for fifteen minutes when he speaks up, voice hoarse and groggy "Why the fuck haven't you asked yet?"

Your tired face scrunches in confusion, attempting to escape his grip. "What?"

His hand laces into your hair and pushes your face into the pillow, fucking into you with a renewed- fueled by hate - vigor

He seethes, slapping your bruises backside "To cum all over ya, cumdump."

Your face warms and you shake your head hastily, tears blossoming from shame

Now he has a plan

Your hands are bound to the bed frame, and almost every inch of you is covered in him by next day's noon

You body shivers with unease, trying to rub off the flaky sensation

"Finally ready to beg, whore?"

67 notes · View notes

katssecretdiary · 3 months ago

Text

"Let him-them hear you scream for me. Let them see who this cunt belongs to, who makes you feel this fucking good."

EXCUSE ME?! LET HIM?! LET. HIM?!

I AM SCREAMING, CRYING AND CREAMING— Oops. Typo.

Oh my god. I truly do not have words for this. You executed this so beautifully, so perfectly. It is beyond all I could ever imagine it could've turned out to be— you made it a zillion times better. I live for violent Joel, I live for dark and possessive and jealous Joel, like he's trying to fully convince himself, by convincing the others, that reader truly belongs to him.

I will never grow tired of this fic. I will never grow tired of your writing and ideas. Your execution, everything you do, as always, is mesmerizing and overwhelming and so fucking underrated.

So so happy and eager. Always eager for more.

Thank you so much for sharing this with the world.

Breaking in (Part 3)

Summary: Joel claims you.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOOOOT EATTTT. Noncon, dark dark themes, sexual slavery, reader is in pain and exhausted, gang bang, angst, insecure reader, oral (F receiving), riding, over stimulation, physical abuse, creampie, bruises, tiny bits of blood, please tell me if I'm missing something else!!!

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

Series Masterlist

Catfish hands felt warm, cozy, as he hoisted you up. You whimpered, your body aching for rest. Protests begun rumbling in the room, and it felt like both Catfish and you glanced pleadingly at Joel.

His jaw was squared, and you saw the others. They were pleading, too. Pleading for one more glance, one more go, a bit more of your flesh to chew on. They are like dogs, obedient ones, and Joel is their master.

He nudges. A sign so faint you can't catch it, but Catfish's trained eyes can. Your legs are to weak to move, they stumble against the cool floors as he leads you out the open door. Into the hallway. Into the bath.

Your head spins as your lungs heave against your chest, desperate for fresh air. You feel your muscles pulsing, blood pumping to form bruises at your battered body. No more no more no more.

Catfish hesitates on giving you a bath, considering your state, but he knows they aren't patient. He doesn't even kick the door close before propping you against the tiled wall, your hands rushing to support you. He haphazardly turns on the water and immediately presents his palm, testing the temperature. Droplets splatter against your side, eyes glossy as you stare at him through the curtain of water.

Your eyes fog, head reeling back against the wall. Your eyelids clench, motion which you had always associated with comfort until now. Despite the warmth washing over you, you still feel their lingering hands.

The room is almost pitch black, the moon's lighting fighting through the window. Your body is spread on the table, you are a feast. Shadows creep around you, and the familiar calloused hand traces up your thigh, In a flash, multiple of them are on you. Jabbing at your cunt, rubbing your clit, pinching your tits and ass and thighs. Your arms are stuck at your side, unable to move despite not being bound, your jaw barely protests as your head is pulled off the table and mouth is forced open. Their laughs ring in your ear.

He calls your name softly, and you jerk your head up, body following and tumbling forward. Catfish caught you. You barely see him, eyeballs rolling back with exhaustion. You feel water fall over your hair, and face, and down your body.

"Fuck," he curses under his breathe, arms flexing as he holds you. His grip is tight, but not painful, and your legs aren't strong enough to hold you, not in that moment. Suddenly, he kicks off his shoes and socks, both worn and tattered, and enters the shower. "Hold onto me."

Your hands come to rest on his big shoulders, dampening the fabric. One arm curls around your waist, and you front is pressed flushed against his as reaches around for the dissipating bar of soap.

Any other time, he would have let you do it, but he lathers the soap precisely and almost carelessly- you reprimand yourself for that thought. He's doing his best.

The waxy surface is a barrier against your bruised skin and his calloused palm, reaching into every crevice of your flesh. He wants you clean; you recall he hasn't had a go, perhaps that's why.

The denim on his thighs become wet, and you roll on the balls of your feet, suddenly ashamed to splash him any further. His arm brings you right back, a faint gasp leaving your chapped lips.

Firstly, because your eyes raised to his, and you saw something you didn't like; dark, hungry, wolfish. They stared at you beneath thick furrowed brows, and you saw a flicker of Joel in his features.

Secondly, hidden behind the thick fabric of his jeans, a familiar outline pressed right onto your stomach.

He shook his head, as if resetting his own thoughts and turned you around with ease, your palms propping on the tiles. The water sprinkled down your face, and he pushed your hair away to wash your back.

"Why won't you fuck me?" You mutter lowly, and your eyelids clench in frustration as the words slip out. His movements falter, the bar almost slipping down the curve of your ass.

"Do you, not like me?" You pushed, and as if you had pressed a button, he began scrubbing you again, hastily.

Of course he wouldn't answer.

You felt stupid for even asking. God, did having all six men after you made you high? Why would he like you?

You now were very aware of your state in front of him. The little hairs that slowly prickled at your legs, how your figure had thinned after eating so little in the last days, the way your skin had paled.

"I'm clean." You bit. More angry than you expected, angrier than he deserved. He retreated his hand and you stepped closer into the stream, unable to glance back at him. The water hid the stubborn tears pricking at your eyes.

You did look at him when you stepped clumsily over the tub's edge, wondering about the towel. He dried his hands on his already soaked jeans and walked right past you, the only acknowledgement being a ghosting hand on your lower back.

Walking back there felt like walking to your doom. Your legs shook and your core ached, persistent on the feeling of dampness deep inside you. From the open door, you barely got a glimpse of Whiskey, thighs spread as he sat onto the wooden chair and Marcus leaning onto the wall; someone's burnt orange shirt too- Oberyn.

You reached the room.

"Fuckhole's back." Dieter announced, and eyes shot at you. The chill of the room along the wetness that trickled down your back didn't cool their burning stares.

Catfish helped you to seat on the edge of the bed and you hung your head low; you heard heavy steps and accompanied by Joel's deep grumble voice. "Blindfold."

You felt the flannel pressed against your face and you closed your eyes on instinct. A hand pulled your chin up, thumb stroking the little lines of blood that seeped through your lips.

"Such a beauty." He groaned, so low you couldn't even catch the owner. But praise was praise, and your cheeks warmed.

The same hand pushed you onto the bed, tense muscles crashing onto the mattress. Your legs parted for support, and he took it. He ran his temple along your inner thigh, and you heard him exhale.

What was this?

A decisive and wet lick in your cunt sent your spine curling against the mattress, a throaty whimper eliciting from your mouth. Before you could recover, he delivered another one, from your perineum to your clit. And another, and another.

Each of them sent shots of pleasure right onto your nerves, and your thighs trapped his head in place. He chuckled against your core, but was quick to continue his assault. A slower one ended with his lips wrapped against your clit, suckling. Your knees trembled and your hips jolted, feeling a slight pain in your swollen folds.

He placed your knees over his shoulders and his hands clenched around your thighs, pulling your quivering body closer. Your mouth parted itself, rewarding him in ways you couldn't fathom.

He continued devouring you, alternating between pushing his tongue into your used cunt and bullying your clit. Your jaw went slack, as your moans were getting more ragged by the second.

"Give me a name." Someone growled at your ear. Your head shook, colliding softly against that curved nose. His hand was on your throat, fingers shoving your face closer to his. Plump lips swallowed your whines, devouring them. Joel. The owner of your pleasure.

Your head attempted to recall the past names. The ones that you were forced to say, those who you were forced to identify. Your mind reeled at the pair of lips upon yours. You silent made him more eager, lapping your juices as two thick digits began prodding at your entrance.

They slammed in, and you yelped against Joel's lips. He took the second of distance to murmur, with faux sweetness. "You better give me a name before you cum, puppy."

You felt the coil tightening on your lower belly, thick muscle tickling you. Short licks flicked at your clit.

You were down three names. Joel-who was whispering into your ear-, Oberyn and Catfish.

The last name sparked some joy in you, a breathe of air. Could this be his way of telling you he actually wanted you?

He wasn't fucking you, wasn't taking anything for himself. He was pleasuring you, eating you like a man starved. You were too lost to think properly about it.

"C-Catfish." You whimpered. Teeth grazed your clit as the man between your thighs sneered.

The warmth by your side dissipated as the bed creaked, and you felt it un-dip. Your hand came to grasp the sheet, only to find the bare bed. Nails dragged against the detailing.

Slap.

The sound smacked you first, and then did his palm. You felt wetness seep from your cunt.

"Wrong."

You were so close, so painfully close.

"O-Oberyn!" You screamed, and your legs felt limp, wide spread around you. He pushed your knees to your chest, ravaging.

Your felt pressure, and you, and you...

It relieved, and he drunk the squirts of arousal that shot our of your cunt with renewed vigor. Your whole body was on fire as he finger-fucked you through your high.

"Oberyn." You mewled, scared the name wasn't heard properly. Disappointment dripped down your temples in scalding tears. Every inch of you was on fire.

His ministrations slowed before he let your core rest with wet pop. You clenches around nothing, noticing the increasing sting on your cheek. You were a rag doll against the bed.

"Like the way you say my name." Oberyn commented coyly before slinking into his feet.

Joel had heard everything.

Why won't you fuck me?

Wasn't six dicks enough?

Wasn't his dick enough?

He stared at your limp body, marks of ownership and claim already blossoming on your skin. Your cunt, swollen and dripping. His cock hadn't been this hard in ages.

He thought about fucking your ass. Make you real sorry for speaking that way to Catfish. Make you confess your sins. But playing the long game was more fun.

He strutted to the bed with some pride. Pride that he could do what he wanted to you, pride that Catfish couldn't stop him. He observed the way you flinched as he pulled down his zipper. His pants and boxers where next. He didn't mind the state of undress in front of his men.

He pushed you aside as he climbed onto the bed, plopping a pillow for his aged back against the head board. His rough hands felt like sandpaper against your skin, but he adored the way your tits bounced as he positioned you to straddle his lap, your dripping cunt poised just above his massive, throbbing cock. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and he could see the thick vein running along the underside of his shaft pulsing with each beat of his heart.

He leaned in close, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He was sure you could smell the whiskey on his breath, the one he had indulged in while watching his men fuck you, could feel the rough stubble of his beard scratching against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, calloused fingers skimming over your ribs before cupping your breasts, squeezing them roughly. He inhaled deeply before resuming his position.

He punctuated his actions with a sharp thrust of his hips, his cock-head catching on your entrance and sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. Your blindfolded eyes shot open wide beneath the fabric, a silent scream catching in your throat as he stretched you impossibly wide around his thick girth. The burn of the sudden intrusion was intense, bordering on painful, as your walls struggled to accommodate his size. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your tits, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your nipples until they were stiff, aching peaks.

He could feel your body trembling in his lap, could see the way your walls fluttered around his cock, trying to draw him in. He smirked, a wicked, cruel twist of his lips.

But he didn't give you a chance to adjust. His hands gripped your hips punishingly hard as he started to move, slamming your body up and down on his cock with brutal, animalistic fervor. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the creaking of the bed frame as he fucked into you with reckless abandon.

One of his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He fisted the strands tightly, wrenching your head back and forcing your chin to tilt up. At the same time, his other hand came down on your ass in a harsh, stinging slap, the pain only adding to the overwhelming sensations consuming your body.

Your lips parted as your face contorted in pain. You wailed, carelessly. "Joel!"

He smirked at the way you recognized him, and his eyes skipped your face. Catfish. His soldier's eyes flickered from your bouncing ass to Joel's face when he realized he was being watched. His brows lowered with amusement and a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. He spoke again, voice heavy with lust. "Louder."

You moan, "JOEL!"

Look at your perfect angel.

He caught your hands and pressed them to his chest, forcing you impossibly deeper.

"That's it, puppy," he growled, his voice a dark, cruel taunt. "Scream for me. Let the whole fucking room hear who this needy cunt belongs to."

He punctuated his words with a particularly vicious thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting through your core. Your walls clamped down around him, fluttering wildly as your orgasm approached like a runaway train.

Catfish stared in awe. He took in the way your tits bounced and jiggled with each brutal thrust, the way your ass rippled as Joel's hips slammed against it. He could see the obscene stretch of your pussy around Joel's thick cock, the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his balls.

"Louder, puppy," he commanded, his voice a low and dominant. "Let him-them hear you scream for me. Let them see who this cunt belongs to, who makes you feel this fucking good."

Your whine comes out needy. But you chant his name either way.

Joel felt your pussy clench and spasm around his cock as your orgasm ripped through you, your screams of ecstasy echoing off the walls. The sensation was exquisite, your velvety walls gripping him like a hot, slick fist as they milked his throbbing shaft. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he found his own release.

A guttural, animalistic groan tore from his throat as he began to cum, his cock pulsing and jerking as it pumped thick ropes of hot seed deep into your convulsing cunt. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he ground against you, ensuring every last drop of his essence was planted inside your fertile womb. Something overtook him.

As the last spurts of Joel's release dripped into you, he pulled you into a rough, dominating kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and swallowing your cries of pleasure. He bit at your lower lip hard enough to taste copper, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh and leaving a mark of his own.

Finally, with a last, possessive grind of his hips, he broke the kiss and leaned back, taking in the debauched sight of you straddling his lap. Your hair was a wild tangle, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat, your tits heaving with each ragged breath, bite marks sinking into your tits, blue and violet painting your inner thighs. His cum oozed out around his softening cock, dripping down your legs and onto the sheets below. It turned a pretty pink color.

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan @rant-throw-away @jalepp @lumpatto @miragens-para-uma-vitoria

185 notes · View notes

katssecretdiary · 3 months ago

Text

"Never told you my name, honey."

The way I THREW my phone away when I read that line, oh my god. Guess I was just too fucking immersed in the scene for me to realize Oh, fuck, they didn't properly introduce themselves and them boom, right on my fucking face. So perfect. Red, you can't see me right now but I am bowing down to you.

Always excellent, always on point, always exceeding and breaking expectations, you never cease to amaze me with your mind and writing, how you beautifully take us readers to that point in the story that leaves us breathless and —always— wanting for more.

nena mala

Summary: After the fall of the godfathers, Peña takes his personally desired target.

Pairings: Dark! Javier Peña x Dark! Reader

Warnings: consensual turns to noncon, hate fucking, drug trafficker reader, probably very uncannon because I am in the first season but I needed to write this, reader is veeery horny, un protected sex (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), choking, slapping, arresting (?, fingering, creampie, if you dont know Spanish i can translate it for you, degradation, tell me if I missed anything.

You celebrated the fall of the godfathers; finally achieving a monopoly of the cocaine trafficking into USA. Your club boomed with people, some friends, some willing to change sides after events and some clueless of what was being celebrated.

You pulled the hem of your dress down as you slithered through the crowd, a bottle of expensive whiskey in one hand as men dragged their eyes over you; if only they knew how dangerous it would be for them to even try something. Escobar and those guys may be upfront, but you slipped through shadows and actually fucking knew how to launder money.

A gentle tap on your shoulder made you twirl on your heels, almost slipping due to the alcohol in your veins, and you came face to face with one of your guys. He leaned in to your ear, whispering discretely.

"Hay un chancho acá; del DEA."

Your eyes scanned the venue, squinting to see through the party lights until your gaze fell on him. Thick shoulders bulging from a thin shirt, tan skin and tell tale porn star mustache. Javier Peña, your darkest dream. He stood by the bar, dark eyes scanning around. Oh, how you wished that he would chase you too.

"Gracias." You whispered back, patting his back, before making your way to the bar. Smoothly, your perched yourself beside him, as if pretending to order.

"Gabriel," You called your bar tender, perhaps louder than you should. "Un caipi porfa."

It must had worked, because you felt him settle beside you.

"Isn't that bottle enough?" He teased, thick accent sending shivers down your spine. You realized you still had the bottle clenched in your hand, embarrassment slightly rose your cheeks.

"This goes back to the bar;" You lied through your teeth, placing the bottle in some confused bar tender's hand. "Gotta keep my establishment running."

You looked over your shoulder to him, towering over your back. A glimpse of understandment flashed through his eyes, and you could almost eat him up right there.

"Ah, so you work here?" He questioned, but it felt teasingly. His forearm propped itself next to yours.

"I am the owner." You clarified, grabbing the Caipirinha that was served to you as your voice slurred. The cold glass wet your hand, almost as much as he was wetting your thong. "La mujer de la noche."

You gave him the name of the bar in a singsong voice, shoulder gently nudging against his chest. Almost as if it was a signal, his free hand fell on your lower back.

"Then congratulation on the business," He chuckled, taking the drink from your hand confidently and sipping it. "Celebrating anything tonight?"

He nodded to your extravagant outfit, the little black dress that clung to your body and the golden jewelry. True gold, not anything the other girls around you had. A smile forced itself in your lips drunkenly, but you couldn't actually tell a DEA what you were celebrating, despite how your intoxicated and excited mind wanted to.

"Nothing special; I could dress up like this to do my gardening."

You felt so hot flirting like this; you wanted Javier Peña to notice you for years. You almost got jealous seeing him running around the Godfathers, and seeing his veiny hands up close made you wish he would bend you over and cuff you up.

"Then I'd really like to have you as a neighbor." He joked and you laughed, as if his DEA salary could ever afford a house next to your fucking Villa.

"You surely are better than the ones I have." You retorted. Your only neighbors were now in jail.

"They give you a hard time?" He asked, and you were devouring the amount of attention he was placing on you. You leaned in closer, chest now perked barely grazing under his pecs through the thin clothing between you, and you smelled his perfume; whiskey, cigarettes and eucalyptus.

"I'd probably say I give them a hard time, considering how they look at me." You bit, using the excuse of the loud music to get as close as possible. He looked down at you, and you almost could see his mind hesitating his response.

"Then why don't you take me back to your place and give them something else to look at?"

You almost squealed, but you had to kept your cool. You bit your lip, because you possibly couldn't take him home. It was a one way ticket to a tax evasion fine, and if he searched hard enough, you'd probably end up in the same place as your neighbors.

"Can't leave the club like this," You said, painfully, seeing disappointment in his eyes made you panic; you spoke quickly, fearing he could take it the wrong way. "but my office is free, and right upstairs."

You didn't play along the game, you had faltered, but Javier was so close to you, you couldn't even think properly. He looked surprised at your crassness, but the smile didn't falter from his lips, tucked beneath that dreamy mustache you wanted to feel scratch your skin.

"Lead the way then." He muttered, eyes dangerous. As you turned around, draping his hand over your shoulder, a grin plastered on your face.

You barely reached the stairs when he had spun your around and slammed you to the wall, lips pushing against yours. An arm slithered around your back as a hand gripped your ass, hard. You melted like jelly into his arms as he pressed his hard onto you.

"Come on," You whined, the second his lips left yours and begun sucking your neck. "I wanna sit on that big nose of yours."

You felt your cheeks blush instantly, but words spilled out of your mouth carelessly. He roared in laughter, so you just pulled him into your office.

He ferociously pushed you into your zebra print couch, falling along you. The fabric of his jeans dragged against your open thighs, zipper falling almost like a puzzle piece against your panty clad slit. You moaned at the feeling, soaking through so much you wouldn't be surprised if you had left a spot. A hand hiking up your dress, your tangling in his curls while the other dig your claws into his shoulder.

He pulled away and you almost whined at the loss of his body heat. However, as he slipped off your underwear you couldn't be less bothered. He eyed your cunt, hungrily as he spread your thighs further apart. Leaning over, he placed a kiss over your dripping slit before licking a stripe along. Your eyes rolled all the way back as a breathy, needy moan erupted through your stained lips.

He ate you like a man starved, playfully dragging his curved nose over your clit, as if making you remember your words. His tongue fucked into you, lips wrapped around your soft point, the alternation of events making you buck your hips wildly and his fucking mustache just rubbed perfectly against your mount. He brought you to the edge only to drag himself away from you and observe how you kicked your heels against the couch, clenching his hair tightly, attempting perhaps to get him closer.

"Gonna give you the good thing," He groaned darkly, fingers now working your heels off you, hastily. Once he got them off, he plunged two fingers into your weeping cunt, making your gasp at the sudden intrusion as a small sting formed around the stretch of his fingers. "Can't believe a fucking club owner has this tight of a pussy."

You ignored the sexism and stereotype in his words, eyes clenched shut as you babbled to his fingers scissoring in you. You heard faintly the sound of a zipper, and peered open to see. The well trimmed patch of pubic hair, the red big tip point angrily to the sky, a vein that traveled down his shaft. "Javi, please."

Javi; the nickname you had given him since you saw his handsome face on the TV, it made you giggle like a teenager every time you discussed him with your girl friends.

"I'm going, sweetheart." He hushed, and your heart swelled at the nickname. He took his fingers out with a faint pop from your wetness and you spread your thighs even further apart, if possibly. He smeared your wetness across his dick, giving it a few good-luck pumps. Your mouth salivated at the sight, and your hands slipped to undo the buttons of his shirt, desperate to touch more of him.

He slipped the tip in and your eyes watered, pleasure shooting through your core.

"Just fucking ram it in, Javier." You demanded impatiently. He snickered, hands gripping your hips before he shot you menacing look. Propping himself in his knees, he slammed into you.

You moaned loudly, head rolling over the edge as you stretched around him. No thick fingers could have prepared you for this; he grunted, letting you know he hadn't expected it either. In your brief glory, he leaned over your body, mouth slotting against your ear, nibbling in your lobe and whispering, seductively.

"Never told you my name, honey."

You felt as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over you as shivers ran your spine and your eyes burst open. You attempted to laugh, mind thinking of an excuse as he dragged his cock achingly slow in and out.

"I-I know," You sputtered, hands perhaps holding so tight into his shoulder as if measuring your strength. "I have every-" he had plunged into you more deeper than he had done before, forcing a stutter. "everyone who comes into-into my club registered."

He hummed, continuing his tortuously slow pace. You felt your thighs clench against his hips, waiting his response. You felt slightly more relieved as he begun thrusting quicker.

"And the name of your club is so intriguing." He spoke through his groans, although his words were so concise they felt rehearsed. "The lady of the night; I heard that name in my job."

Fuck. No. Stop. Red flags bloomed in your temple as you froze.

"Care to hear the story?" He asked, but his tone wasn't like the questions he had asked down in the bar. He stopped his ministrations, perchance attempting to concentrate himself. "She's a drug trafficker that currently has two million pounds entering the United States from, guess where, Colombia."

Yeah. He had you. Panic took control as your body begun shivering, violently. You managed to push him off your ear, seeing his face. Your juices glistened against his mustache as his teeth formed an almost casual smirk; lit by the dim warm light of your office, his face was contorted into the most pleasured expression. You panicked, hands pushing against shoulders which barely budged. He tutted, lips still stretched as he easily overpowered your wrists in his clasp.

He called your name, in full, not even the name you had on the club paper and the people around you knew you by; your actual fucking name. "You lied to me, bebita."

His cock was still kissing your uterus, you were sure you were so tense you had clenched around him like a vice.

"You lied to me," He repeated. "you actually are fucking celebrating your competition's downfall."

Yep. Correct, Perhaps if you agreed he'd let you go.

"Get off me," You snapped, teeth bared. "I'll scream."

He cackled almost childishly, before letting his free hand cradle your cheek. The sudden tenderness felt off.

"You can scream all you want, got the fucking police outside." He muttered. "all I needed was a quick arrest; but you presented yourself so easily," He begun rocking his hips once again. "So I thought, why don't I take my commission for the head ache you have caused me?"

His hand left your cheek and fell to cover your mouth, seizing your your shaking jaw in the process. You closed your eyes, thoughts rushing to your now sober head. The air was filled with the squelching noise of his dick ramming in and out and his heavy pleasure groans. He suddenly sighted, as if savoring the moment, and his hands blindly turned your body around, pressing his barely dressed chest to you damp back. Your chest spilled from the armrest, and you took the opportunity as he held your hip with one hand and aligned his cock.

"HELP-"

His forearm slapped against your neck, bicep bulging against your cheek as he choked words out of your mouth.

"Careful there," He rasped, sheathing himself in. You whimpered at the new angle. "Don't make me do anything you wouldn't like, at least not so fast."

He began curling his hips into you, allowing you some breathe. Not that you could breathe well, his pace had become brutal, as if punishing you from every fucking gram you sold. The couch creaked as he placed all his hip strength in his thrusts. He panted like a dog, allowing thick moans to fill your ears.

"Nena mala, muy mala," He howled, pulling the straps of your dress down to grip your tits. Rough, calloused hands fidgeting with your nipples. "Just need some good cock to put you on your place, huh? un buen pito para esta putita?"

Hand on your tit, bicep choking you and dick all the way down to your abdomen, and you felt yourself clenching around him. As if he knew- he probably did, given by the short breaths he took- his hand fell down to between your legs. He found your clit easily, as if he had learned were it was, and rubbed it with the same pressure he was imprinting his cock into you. Too hard for your taste, but he was barely giving your the luxury of not choking your lights out.

No no no no, you though as you felt it. Sparking down from your chest to your core, forcing your muscles taut, sending more and more dampness around your bodies. With a wail you came around his cock, tears of humiliation spilling down your cheek and onto his tan skin.

It drove him wild, wild enough to stop choking you and hoisting your bodies up into the air, the hand that was pleasuring you rising to slap against your ass cheek as he rutted in wildly.

"Nena mala," He grunted as if that was the only thing running through his brain, punctuating his words with messy thrusts and sharp slaps to the side of your cheek. "gonna fucking teach you to behave."

Three final hits and he was holding down your lower stomach, pressing into you as hot ropes of cum painted your insides. He kept you like that for a while, and you felt crushed as he propped his weight in your shaky knees. His head came to lay on your shoulder and he suddenly was pressing kisses into your neck as a faux action of love. Your breathe hitched, sobs unable to properly escape as you hyperventilated. He produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, probably you had felt them when you groped his ass but chose to ignore it. He clanked them around your wrists, and you allowed him to before dropping you face first into the couch, with your dress still ridden up to your back and neckline still pulled down and cum still dripping into your legs and ass still stinging. He placed a cigarette over his lips as he zipped his pants up, shirt still torn apart.

"It's a pity;" He spoke, muffled as he lit the tip of the cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You are really pretty."

You craned your neck to look at him, taking a drag. Smoke circled around him as his body shined with sweat, your lipstick stained along his face and neck.

"But hey, the justice system is rigged; could get you out early if you behave for me."

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katssecretdiary · 4 months ago

Text

Breaking in (Part 1)

Summary: You relish on a silent prayer as Joel and his men break you in.

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, kidnapping, dark themes, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, choking, anal sex, creampies, bit of blood, physical abuse, restraints, blindfold, dark dark and dark

Authors note: OMG KEEP SENDING ME ANONS AND STUFF LIKE THAT I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHH

Series Masterlist

Your back arched against the mattress of Joel’s bare bed, hands nerviously gripping the thick, itchy rope that kept your hands tied to the head rest. You breathed in deeply, attempting your best to look as well behaved as possible.

The thick hands roaming your body didn’t help, invasive in their touch, sinfully warm. And yet, one wiped dampened straps of hair out of your forehead.

Could they see how fast your hard was beating?

“Shhh,” Joel cooed, as a meek whimper escaped your lips. “it’s all for the better, promise.”

His voice, sickly sweet and deep, did little to calm you down. You nodded, obediently, as a thumb traced the line of your sex.

“Gonna teach you to please the men in this house, alright?”

He asked, but he knew it wasn’t alright. You knew that too, that despite his sweet talking, it was all an obnoxiously false. If you were to begun thrashing around at that instant, those saccharine words would be gone.

Your silence was an answer, as it had been all along. You barely remembered uttering other words than “no” or “please”. He continued talking.

“We are gonna play a game now,” He muttered, pressing his palm against your jaw. “you gonna tell me whose fucking you, okay?”

Your brows scrunched under the blindfold, and he did you the favor of nodding your head for you.

You felt the bed move, cracking as you lost the brief sense of warmth their hands gave you. Almost tantalizing, almost reassuring.

Do exactly as your told.

Your breathe hitched in your throat as you felt the bed dip between your knees, hands splaying on your inner thigh to open you impossibly wider.

Where all seven of them going to fuck you?

A narrow waist settled between them, taut and lithe body. It's heat was remarkable as a thick head positioned on the curly mound of your cunt. You whimpered, feeling your senses painfully heightened.

As you attempted to dissociate from the situation, seeking solace in thoughts despite knowing you should be aware of which of this imbeciles where raping you- the notion of how all of this had occurred struck you.

Joel gave you and opportunity at redemption after punching Marcus, he was nice, then he brought you to his room and stripped his bed bare, and then they tied you up.

And it clicked.

Joel was nice.

They stripped his bed.

They tied you up.

Where they going to kill you?

You couldn't help but squirm, more hot tears stinging at your eyes. One even slipped through the blindfold, rolling almost beautifully down your cheek. The hot body pressed itself over you, and you bid your last goodbyes.

A pair of lips pressed themselves to the skin on your neck, the tip of his cock lining to your entrance. His hips stuttered, and a deep chuckle bounced against you as you whined; with an easing hand, two fingers came to rub at the bundle of throbbing nerves.

You bit your lower lip, muffling a moan. But his other hand, from the arm he had propped beside your head, came to part your lips.

"Don't hold back, puppy." Joel grunted, the sound didn't pierce your ears instantly. It wasn't Joel. "You gotta tell me who is it."

You felt unwanted slick ooze, the head of the cock nudging deeper. Two more rubs and he was sinking his cock; slowly, as it taking the time to spread you.

He pawed at your breast, anchoring himself deeper. You moaned, breathy, whimper-y, pathetically. You felt him bite his lip against your skin, as if keeping his ratty mouth in check.

As he begun to thrust in, slowly, sensually; his lips found home suckling at your your neck, as his fingers pinched and pulled at your taut nipple. It felt almost loving.

You felt shame cross your cheeks, as you blubbered out. "Catfish?"

A sharp jut sent you crying, and told you the needed answer. You heard faint laughter, and you squeezed your eyes shut under the blindfold.

"Strike one baby, you don't want to get to three." Joel warned, though the playfulness made you uneasy.

You felt a hot slimy muscle lathe over a healing wound, the one Javier had given you just a day ago. His teeth skimmed your gentle skin, carnal, baring. His hips rolled against you, and an idea crossed your mind.

You felt him pick up his pace, and let out a deep moan. As you clenched on his cock, he let out a throaty, wild growl, like a caged animal. You almost could smirk at your intelligence, but at the moment it felt like a pitiful attempt to safe your life.

"Javier." You panted, and he smirked against your skin.

"Atta girl." He murmured, voice laced with pleasure. His movements were now fueled by pride, reckless need to make you speak once more. "Say my damn name, baby."

And when you didn't respond, letting your pulse slow down, his hands came to bend your knees over his shoulders, sloppily forcing his cock even deeper. You groaned at the stretch, attempting to pull your hips away; but his cock chased you, entranced by the movement.

whispered, pleading and hoarse "Javier"s turned into "Javi"s until they were shut down completely by his rude, crass words you barely understood.

"Come on, putita, cum on my cock." He ordered, the curly patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each jerk of hips. "mostrale a estos tipos quien te coge tan bien."

And as if on command, you did. White hot flames licked at your body, your core pounded and you mewled for him, intense and deep. Javier was a few thrusts behind, spilling his hot seed into you.

His thick weight crashed over you, hot breathe euphoric against your goose-bumped skin. You basked in those mere seconds were the fiery denseness of Javier almost numbed the pain in your body, muscles finally relaxing. And then, just like that, the sound of a wet slap reached you, despite not feeling the sting.

"Move along, big boy." someone abruptly scooted him, and with a agonizing sound, Javier retreated from you. You legs barely touched the mattress before you were man handled on your knees, wrists twisting painfully along the rope. You squealed, your body so-not prepared.

Javier wasn't even off the bed when the second guy grabbed fistfuls of your ass, spreading the plump flesh apart. His thick knees pushed yours apart, and you winced at the excruciating ache at your joints.

A sudden wad of wet spit landed down the crack of your ass; but you were sure that you were wet enough with the amount of cum Javier had pumped into you-

God.

When had you became so shameless?

So filthy, so impure. You hadn't even asked them to stop, didn't attempt to plead. All because of your unwavering faith to Catfish, a men whose real name you didn't even know. Because he had promised you he'd save you, because he had told you to do exactly as you're told.

Was he even truthful? Or was he playing the same twisted game Joel-

Your thoughts ran dry as a massive head pressed against your untouched hole, swirling around the spit.

"Marcus!" You wailed, half an answer, half a plea. Seeing no responds, you continued, using what the other men called him. "Acacius!"

"Bingo, baby." Joel charmed, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

He pushed in, and you felt your eyes slam to the back of your head in a jolt of agony traveled from your hole to your lower back. He began filling you, and his slow pace seemed to be the only choice he had; nonetheless, he was concise, unfaltering. Uneasiness, discomfort, every synonym there was, you felt it.

"Jooeel!" You pleaded, something in your mind telling you he was the only way out off this.

But it was wrong, and Marcus let you know it; with half cock in your tightest hole, he slammed the remaining four and a half inches. As if he wasn't already reaching your guts, he pressed his cotton clad chest onto your dampened back, bending to murmur filth into your ear. You would protest more, but

Do exactly as your told.

"Told you I was gonna fuck this ass," He snarled, pulling as much as your snug walls allowed to slam back in. A cry died in your throat, and you were sure that you were going to die in that minute. "gonna fuck it raw, finally claim it."

He wouldn't let the pain dissipate, that you knew, pounding profoundly. His rugged hand came to lace with your hair, almost pulling the makeshift blindfold off before two fingers wrapped around it too.

"That's right, take my cock like the eager little cumslut you are," he commanded, wrenching your head back. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises in your skin. "Fuck, this asshole is gripping me so tight. You were made for this, whore"

His words took you by surprise, but not for long. Marcus leaned down, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, his hand on your hair as leverage to keep your skin exposed. The scuff off his beard rubbed raw against your sensitive flesh. He bit down hard, sucking a dark bruise into your skin as he marked you. His touch slid around to your front, finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles. The pleasure was a shocking contrast to the blinding pain, making your head spin as he played your body like an instrument.

His thrusts became more erratic as your muscles contracted, heavy balls slapping against your ass with each plunge of his hips. You could feel him swelling inside you, stretching your asshole obscenely around his throbbing cock. He was getting close, his climax building rapidly as he used your ass with wild abandon.

You croaked the first thing that came to your mind. "Mercy, please."

Acacius let out a cruel laugh at your desperate plea, the sound sending icy tendrils of fear down your spine. "Mercy? Oh, you fucking slut, you don't get to use that word here. Mercy is for good girls, and you, my dear, are the furthest thing from good."

He was a God, dictating your punishment, for what precisely? you didn't know. He pinched your clit, hard, finding motivation in your pleasure-pain cry. Some relief came as he let go of your hair, but it left as soon as his hand wrapped at the nape, enclosing your throat in his big hand and squeezing just hard enough to make your breath come in short, sharp gasps.

With a guttural roar, Acacius slammed his hips forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your ravaged ass. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he found his release, hot ropes of cum painting your insides white. The sensation was overwhelming, the searing heat of his seed flooding your guts and marking you as what he said, a whore.

He ground his hips against your ass, stirring his softening cock in your cum-flooded hole as he rode out the aftershocks of his intense climax. Your stomach distended slightly from the sheer volume of his release, the outline of his cock visible through your skin. You could feel his hot essence seeping out around his shaft, dripping down to pool on the matress beneath you. He had filled you to the brim, your body struggling to contain the massive load.

"Got what ya wanted?" Joel asked, and the comment cut through the thick fog of tension your brain was handling. You were going to die of stress.

With a harsh laugh, Marcus pulled out of your abused hole, his softening cock slipping free in a gush of their combined fluids. Your asshole gaped and winked, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as it struggled to close around the void left by his departure.

Without his body holding you, you fell face first into the pillowy surface, sobs wrecking through your body as the aftermath of the destruction begun to set.

Joel couldn't help the warm feeling expanding in his chest at the view, your limbs twisted and splayed on the bed as you presented your perfect, gaping holes to them, milky and pink substance dripping out obscenely. He cock pounded against his jeans, begging for release. Your soft, battered body heaved with each pain-filled cry, it was all so perfect.

With not even a glimpse of hesitance, his head nudged at the next in line, handing him the ruddy pocket knife.

Tags:

@tateypots @koshkaj-blog @paink1llerf0rm1ller @oldloganslittleslut @purple-fig @megjohnston23 @katwriteshardy @natalieispunk

@puduvallee @pedrofan @rant-throw-away

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katssecretdiary · 4 months ago

Text

Okay, I'm at the office right now and when I tell you I had to take pauses reading this because the ANXIETY i felt after each paragraph– omg. I have SO MUCH to say about this chapter and I'm not sure where to start.

"fuck, we haven’t taught her anythin’! how can we-how can we even have the audacity to expect her to take it like a pro?” THE CHILLS DOWN MY SPINE. I HAD TO TAKE A BREATHER. Like, "how dare we? How dare we not train her properly like we value and respect her, like she's not so special to us? How dare we use her and break her and abuse her as we see fit for our benefit, huh? We ain't monsters!" And Catfish trying to stand up to Joel even if he was so afraid? I definitely teared up and pouted a little.

This episode was so anxiety-inducing and I love that I felt, like really felt, myself there... trying to hide behind the only man that brings me comfort among a pack of angry, bloodthirsty wolves, squirming away from Joel's stare, wanting to plead for mercy under his dark eyes, finally giving in for the false promise of safety and softness... It was too much and it was amazing! Definitely a re-read!

Miller's

Summary: Do exactly as your told.

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of anal, kissing, dark, violence, restraints, dark dark but not that dark, fear play.

Series Masterlist

Joel Miller was a man turned to stone by time; he held that reminder close to his heart, wrapped around his wrist in the form of a cracked watch.

He barely got the feeling of adrenaline these days; his past heavy and numbing of his senses. He wasn't living anymore, instead-surviving.

No use on being nice, trading, adjusting to a community. He had gathered men like him, broken down and restless, and with them he had gotten everything he needed; food, guns and sometimes women.

Like any other spoil of war, they were quickly discarded. Mercy, Joel said it was, despite not knowing the concept fully. He found himself not finding the usual pleasure in his relief, turning sour, depraved.

He thought himself broken when he found more pleasure in death than in sex; anger simmering in him, about to pop. He felt his cock throb at the idea of destroying a community, the riches he could take; oh, how much could he take from them, just like the world had taken from him.

Your snotty community was the peak of his climax. Feral stray, huh? he had never encountered a group that deserved to reap what they sowed so much. And thus, when Javier appeared, carrying a spawn of all that hatred, he felt once more what was hidden deep in his loins- desire.

At first he thought your naivety was a gimmick; a way to squeal and cry your way out, but the irony hit him a tad too late. You were exactly the daughter of such a place, as weak and pathetic as someone raised there can be.

It wouldn't stick like that, not under his roof- the idea of giving you a pang of reality made his cock weep. Fuck, molding you into the perfect submissive slut? he could almost come undone in his pants.

He dueled upon sharing you, but he knew it was for the better. Having such tempting little thing right under his men's noses and not allowing them to have you was like putting a loaded gun on the table and turning off the lights. They'd explode all over you.

He wished he at least had thought about it better, as he sipped his morning coffee; the idea of you sprawled beneath Acacius sent a pang of jealousy. Five more days to have you back in his bed.

He could differ upon his previous statement, he thought, after the week had passed. Have you tied up, keep you mewling in his bed. Perhaps one day you'd learn to like it, but fuck, that was a miracle he was waiting to happen.

And then a miracle did occur. Like a fallen angel, escaping from God's wrath, you appeared into the living room. Messy hair and bruises all over your perfect body, your legs wobbling; the sight of you naked would be his death, he sighed. And then he locked in, realizing what actually was happening.

Your hesitant eyes searched around the men, too distraught in the suddenness to move. Your legs moved quickly, bouncing against the hardwood floors as you flung yourself to his arms.

Startled, the cup in Catfish’s hand shook then dipped, coffee spilling into the floor. His arm came to cradle your back, as you pressed your bare body to his side.

“H-He wanted to…there.” You panted; the thundering steps were followed by Acacius. Joel’s eyes widened at his shape; a hand cradling over his face, blood spilling down onto his shirt and the tip of his cock peeking out of his boxers. But his eyes were enough to know, the deep fury they hid in pools of darkness.

“I should cut off your hands for that!” He bellowed, and you pulled yourself impossibly closer to Catfish. Ripping his hand off his face, Joel could see the inflamed skin of around his nose, nostrils flaring with drying blood.

You were almost climbing Catfish as the room went silent, only your puffy sobs breaking in the air. Joel decided to put his foot down, uncertainty and the scent of something wrong forcing his face into a scowl.

“What is happening?” He asked, voice low and hard. You whimpered, eyes darting between him and the enraged Acacius. He sneered at you, a glint of delight in all of this.

“She fucking hit me.”

You whimpers grew as Joel rose to his feet, dark eyes set on you. Excitement dinged at his cock. How scared you looked, and on top of that-naked. It all brought him adrenaline that hid behind the growing storm of his rage.

“thought you remembered what happened the last time you hit one of my men.”

Your whole body trembled with fear, and you attempted to hide yourself behind Catfish. His grip loosened on you, as if giving you a warning-that he couldn’t protect you.

“He-He wanted to put it…in my-in my ass!” You sobbed hysterically, your face flushing as you uttered the words.

Acacius glared, unashamed of such intimacy being told. Joel’s brow cocked in amusement, when would you learn?

His hands came to prop at his hips, body thick and menacing as he spoke with such easiness. “Have you forgotten your place?”

Your head shook, not in denial, but as if you were shaking yourself awake from a horrible nightmare.

“Catfish, move.” He ordered, but you felt his muscles tense beneath you, holding him still. “She needs to punished.”

He wouldn’t budge, and you felt his redemption in the careful hand he used to press your face to his chest, clothed and warm and scented.

“You expect her not to react?” He bit, ironically.

Joel’s lips curled into a faux smile; fuck, if giving his men a taste of you would make them rebel, he would have kept you to himself.

“Catfish.” Whiskey groaned, voice a threat as he leaned over the kitchen counter. “Move; you don’t wanna get the Boss in your bad side.”

He didn’t, Joel could tell by the fear in his eyes; fear that made him feel powerful. But despite his adam apple bobbing as he swallowed down, his body twisted to shelter you from the hungry, dark gaze of his peers.

“She is scared.” He argued.

Joel sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “She wouldn’t be if she fucking behaved.”

Your whimper was muffled against the dark material of his shirt, brown darker from soaking your tears. It ignited something feral in Joel; but he breathed in, controlling the urge to drag you by the hair back to the room.

“Can’t blame her,” Joel muttered with some sincerity in his tone; the men around him searched for further enlightenment as they stared at him. “little pretentious, virgin pussy,” he tsked. “hasn’t been taught possibly anythin’ about sex and just like that, has to please seven cocks, perhaps have I been too greedy on that, haven’t I, puppy?”

Your mouth went dry as you peeked at him through Catfish’s broad shoulders. His gaze had softened upon you, etched with an unfamiliar understanding in his wide puppy dog eyes. You nodded, timidly.

He exhaled, arms raising into the air with some kind of resignation. Despite relaxing, Joel was keen on your every move, how your grasp on your saviour lessened as your eyes darted to him, and how your chest became heaving less rapidly.

“We haven’t been particularly nice to our little puppy,” He recognized, but his tone sent a shiver down your spine; the sudden softness uncanny. “fuck, we haven’t taught her anythin’! how can we-how can we even have the audacity to expect her to take it like a pro?”

You froze, unaware of the web he was weaving, scared of what he truly meant. With a sly grin, he pressed a hand to his chest and extended the other to you.

“I’m giving you your first chance at redemption, alright puppy?” He pressed, hand beckoning. “You come here, we go back to the room and solve this like adults, or you keep cowering behind your white knight and I’ll get over there, and you won’t like what happens next.”

The sweetness of his tone didn’t match the heaviness of his words. Joel struggled with the act, but it was for the better. Your squealing and squirming would only cause him a head ache so early in the morning.

You stayed still, hidden behind Catfish. Gazes tensed over you, expecting, analyzing, hungry. Joel cleared his throat, the arm he had outstretched growing heavy as the smile he held dissipating. Come on, crack.

You couldn’t believe your eyes, the warmth of Joel’s gesture doing little more than sending an icy chill down your spine. An invitation, or perhaps a trap, to behave.

You felt Catfish’s muscles rhythmically tense and un-tense under your fingertips, his breathe furrow and deep. The hand he had stuck to the side begun wavering, as he begun giving up on the possibility of protecting you.

Fuck, what could you expect? for him to suddenly became your Savior? He was no better than them, and you needed to get that through your skull.

So when he twisted on his ankle, you already knew he was living you bare for the wolves in front of you.

And probably, how his mouth went to your ear was to mutter a pitiful sorry, right?

No.

“Do exactly as you are told,” He whispered, pressing a kiss by your cheekbone; a rouse. “I’ll get you out of here.”

You stood stoically still as he pulled away from you. Your eyes met Joel, however his view was more entrance in licking you up from your feet to your chest. Despite Catfish’s words, you couldn’t help the need to weight out your options.

If you behaved, like he said, it probably wouldn’t be that bad. You didn’t know, you had never truly behaved for them, never truly submitted fully.

If you didn’t, you would be punished; and that you knew about, your hair still stung at places from Joel’s grip.

But another alternative popped in your mind; what if you were free?

The warmth of the hopeful dream overcasted momentarily the reality of it all. You’d be free, but have no where else to go and no knowledge of the world outside your community. You’d be dead in two weeks tops.

For a second you wondered if there was a worse one; death by clickers or death by cock.

"I don't have all day, puppy." He drawled playfully, but the darkness still lingered in his tongue; infernal.

You placed one feet in front of the other, the hardwood cold on your bare feet as you walked to your demise. You stood, as naked as the day you were born, in front of your godly judge; bareness had become usual for you, as was wearing his men's scratches and bites as another layer of clothes.

His outstretched hand came to cradle the back of your neck, a lazy, triumphant grin elating in his face. His touch for once seemed tender; though Marcus glare did not ease at the corner of your eyes.

"There, good puppy." Joel muttered, eyes lost in your glossy, disheveled expression. "Now give me a big kiss."

It surprised you as much as it had done when Javier wanted a kiss, in the tub almost two days ago. It felt like such an intimate thing, it made butterflies swim in your belly. Fuck, this is so wrong.

You looked up, through wet lashes, lower lip trembling nervously. You stood up in the balls of your feet, hands coming to rest at his chest for support as you pressed your lips to his. A peck.

No, Joel wanted more; the grip on your nape tightened, forcing you to stumble against his solid front as he mouthed at you, tongue sloppily claiming yours. You whimpered, and he pulled away, leaving you breathless and pressed against him.

"Now, give Marcus a kiss and tell him you are sorry." He groaned, and you felt small.

Do exactly as your told.

Joel let you pull away, and you presented yourself to Acacius, to his overpowering scowl and his hawkish glare.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, seeing how his gaze didn't even try to soften. You felt a surge of pride at the specks of blood peppering his shirt, the bruise forming by his aquiline nose.

Go on, Joel muttered. And you repeated the same process; his hand didn't touch you, and you felt him sneer against your face.

You stood once again in front of the two men, your lower lip held captive between your teeth.

"Good, great." Joel praised.

For a second you forgot how you got yourself there, your senses clouding. The rope burned on your wrists and the makeshift blindfold damp from your tears. Rough, calloused hands smoothed over your heaving body, so many, you could barely tell which was whose.

You jerked when a palm caressed your face, the touch so different to your state. Hands were spreading your thighs, exposing your throbbing core to a vivacious lick. The only thing that kept you from thrashing around was Catfish's timbre reciting in your ear, as some heavenly voice. Do exactly as your told.

"You look so scared, puppy." Joel tutted, thumb flicking at your lips. "It's okay, you are gonna like this, somehow."

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katssecretdiary · 4 months ago

Text

Whenever you see a dead dove do not eat paired with a Marcus Acacius gif you just know it's gonna be good, but when you see this + pedrosyouknowwhat username on top you KNOW it's gonna be EXCELLENT and this was no short of it, just dark dark work and we love to see it! So in love with this series, so in love with your writing. Couldn't ask for anything better and can't wait for the next part! We definitely need more about Marcus' day.

Defiled

Summary: You feel little more than defiled.

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, fingering, weed use, threats, manhandling, unprotected p in v, short chapter, angst, humiliation, biting, choking, threat of anal

Series Masterlist

You pressed yourself against the couch, slotted between two men that dwarfed you-Javier and Oberyn- their gaze lost in some dumb action movie; despite trying, watching the film felt like succumbing.

The dim, flickering light of the TV glazed over the soft, fluffy fabric of the blanket that was blessed upon you. You shifted your knees on top of the couch, trying to relief some ache that pounded on your body.

As your cheek nuzzled against it, you caught a faint whiff of a familiar scent. Your eyes shot to the blanket, examining it as pain settled between your furrowed brows. Pink and freckled with white hearts; realization shot at you as your hands carefully, discreetly, moved along its seams and found the tell tale linear stitches.

You let a gasp slip out as you fiddled with your initials, sewn upon them; another thing they had taken from your home town.

Had that meant that they had entered your house? Seen your room? Seen your pictures?

Did they know it was yours?

Your faint sound didn't go unnoticed, as your eyes bulged as you felt a knuckle trail the back of your thigh. The TV shone slightly over Oberyn, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips as you shot him a pleading look; he schooled his expression, now intrigued on the movie before him. But his hand trailed to the upper side, the side you pressed against your belly, demanding space with calloused and firm hands.

As you tried to silently plead harder, you found someone who was looking. Hidden between the shadows and darkness the house held, Marcus spread his legs on the adjacent sofa-couch, palm slowly roaming over the crotch of his jeans. His stare, hard and stoic, forced you to stare back at the darned film.

The hand splayed, then pressed, forcing one foot off the couch. You bit down a whimper, and it irked him to go further. He cupped your sex, and you felt your breathe hitch. You pushed yourself away, Javier's linen shirt pressing against your shoulder; he cockily draped his arm over your frame.

You could see Oberyn's amusement in the cock of his brow as he traced a the seam of your sex, nerves throbbing beneath it. You felt adrenaline rush through your body, wincing at the memory of pain they had thrusted-quite literally-upon you. Your bravery bubbled at your throat, and your hand came to clench at his wrist.

It wouldn't budge.

You heard him hum, something low and hearty, before he sunk two thick digits into your swollen cunt; a warning, as casual as a slap on your wrist. Your teeth gritted, the searing pain sending a shot of heat through you, hands now clenching the blanket in a tight, clammy grip.

His head ticked to the side as he curled his fingers inside of you, nudging at your soft, spongy spot with unwavering effort. You stifled a whimper, back pressing harder onto the dilapidated couch. Your eyes shot to a red, cherry tip lighting up in the middle of the darkness.

Joel sits on the other chair, joint wrapped between pursed lips as he lowers his lighter. His other hand grabs the stick, lazily glancing at the TV as his body relaxes.

The skunky scent hits your nostrils, chest heaving as Oberyn retreats his fingers slightly, and you feel empty before he presses into your hardened clit.

Your whimper is ignored as Javier shifts, a groan rumbling in his chest. “Told you I didn’t want to smell your fucking pot.”

Joel rolls his eyes, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. As he glares at Javier, he notices your wide eyes, the gentle shake of your legs, and the way Oberyn’s arm tucked into the blanket.

He doesn’t say much.

With each puff, you feel the man beside you tense, mouth ticking with annoyance. The pressure on your clit is faint, playful flickers sending arousal to pool at your lips; your jaw aches from how tight you are biting.

The credits roll in, and you feel relief wash over you as Catfish turns on the light, bright and painful against your eyes.

The pregnant pause lingers in the air as Joel crushes the remaining joint into a tin and searches for more; impatiently, Javier stands to his feet.

The blanket follows the denim of his jeans, latching onto his knee and falling to the floor. Oberyn’s ministrations still. You gulp.

Time stops as Joel cocks his brow at the scene, brown eyes droopy. A hum erupts from his curling lips as he pouts, amused. “Look’s like you’re having fun.”

Fear beats at your chest, but Oberyn doesn’t stop. He cackles, seeing how every gaze is turned to you. Quickly and unpredictably, he is forcing your back against the seat of the couch and hooking one leg over the backrest.

Javier sighs defeated, boots stomping out of the room and into the hallway. Before you could beg, the two pruny fingers are shoved back into your cunt and you squeal. Halted, your hands grip onto the couch, trying to pull yourself away.

Oberyn tuts at this playfully, other hand clinging onto your hip. “I’d say the lady needs to let go, too.” He comments, grin casually and sickeningly charming.

Your back curls with pleasure as his thumb accompanies the beat of his fingers, flicking at your nerve. You feel feet surrounding you, shadows casted, but your mind drowns in forced pleasure that blurs your sight.

You hear Catfish’s distinctive voice cut through, voice stern. “No.” he orders, desperation laced antithetically in his tone. “fuck, she could have asma-”

You feel hands on your cheeks, forcing your lips into an O-shape as Oberyn finger-fucks you almost off the couch. The thick smoke fills every airway, and you cough-and-moan pathetically. Your head shakes viciously, fighting any effects fruitlessly.

“It’s past midnight.” You hear a growl, and Oberyn slows down as someone releases the grip on your face. “Already Wednesday, already mine.”

Oberyn pulled his fingers with a wet pop, and they glisten with arousal; you slowly pull your legs together as he brings them to his mouth, slurping. The sight-the concept- so foreign it sends a pang of horror through you.

Marcus stood beside your face in the couch, and you couldn't help but tug on the measly shirt to cover more of your goose bump-ed skin.

"Up." He ordered, and you stood to your feet. His big hand wrapped around your thigh, and in a flash he had you swung over his shoulder. You squirmed, the air almost punched out of your lungs, but a sharp smack kept you still.

He dropped you unceremoniously on the bed, and you scrambled against the sheets, taking him in.

His shoulders were massive, probably the biggest in the house; they heaved under the muscle, form towering over your body. He looked permanently angry, scrunched brows and a tight pout; the scar on his cheek bone was matched with more scattered around his torso as he peeled over his thin wife beater. He was nothing short of rough.

Behind him, Oberyn slipped into the room; you froze, seeing how he walked to the other bed. He begun taking off his shoes, though his gaze was set on you. "Gonna fuck her, General?" he asked, tiredness seeping into his voice.

Marcus hummed, and you felt as if he was a predator contemplating on his prey. "Probably; gonna be loud too."

You felt sweat bead over your body, arousal sticking to your thighs. "N-no more, please." You whispered, however Marcus pulled down his pants, tight boxers clinging to thick thighs.

"Babygirl thinks she has a say." Marcus rumbled, an attempt at a laugh. His knees sank onto the mattress, caging you in. Your hands uselessly came to cling at his chest, though your push was minuscule to the amount of bare strength he moved with.

With a cocked brow he turned you on your chest, muffled cries spilling into the pillow. A hand snaked to uncover his cock, it's big, weepy head pressing bare against your hole. "N-NO!" You squealed, the size sending shivers down your spine.

His thick bicep engulfed your chest as he lined his cock, your cunt protesting and clenching around nothing. "Keep still." He growled, unable to notch himself. "or I have a better hole to fuck."

His tip pressed against the tight ring of muscle, and you managed to calm your frantic limbs. "atta girl." He whispered, finally pushing the tip into your pussy. "gonna rip the bandage for you."

He pushed to a halt, and you screamed, loud. Almost instantly, footsteps rang on your ears, the door slamming open as you felt your eyes droop, pressure fondling your brain, as if forcing you asleep.

"Came to watch the show?" Oberyn wondered to the figure on the door frame.

Marcus pulled back his hips, then forward; your tears dampened the pillow beneath you. "Give her a fucking break!" a familiar voice bellowed, and you felt a chuckle bounce against your spine. "Acacius, I'm serious-"

But he kept going on with deep, slow strokes; punching the air out, peppering kisses into your cervix. His breathe fanned against your cheek, and he bit down hard.

Over the hickey's Javier had caused, he broke skin, felt blood pool into his mouth. You cried out, begging "Catfish please, make him stop-"

It urged Marcus to groan, hands tightening around you; you tried to look at your Saviour over the thick head on your side. All you could see was Oberyn rising to his feet, a warn etched into his features.

"You don't want to anger Joel." He spoke, slowly, matter of factly.

You sobbed as you heard steps retreat. Your Saviour had left you.

A hand clenched around your throat, pressing. "Just go to sleep."

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@natalieispunk

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