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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

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AHH Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good!!!!

I was wondering…

Y/n always wear a mask to conceal her identity, in hopes the 141 doesn’t find out that Makarov is her father!!

141 had captured Makarov for interrogation, and y/n is there. As the interrogation continues, they start to notice that y/n and Makarov know each other, by the subtle little informality they spoke to one another. And the truth starts to come out, little by little!!!!

✎ tysm i love you :(( i absolutely love this idea the angst potential is just *chef's kiss* i'm sorry this one took like over a month to make oops, also i tried to keep personal details abt the reader as vague as possible, pls let me know if there's something i can fix!!

✎ tags: female reader, military reader, major daddy issues, violence, mentions of blood, hurt/barely any comfort if at all, not proofread im too cool for that,

✎ word count: 2,704

the silence in the cold, gray interrogation room was so thick that you were choking on it. you knew you had just fucked up, badly.

you had done so well so far, too. you're fabricated identity had fooled everyone. the name you had chosen stuck, and no one ever noticed your old one threatening to jump from your mouth when you introduced yourself. you always kept the childhood memories and little anecdotes vague. you stuck to your rehearsed lines better than a world-famous actor. you did every single thing right.

and now, here he was, your own blood, fucking it all up for you, again.

technically, he had made you fuck it up for yourself. it was just how makarov worked; he was a spider weaving a web in the corner, watching, waiting. this man, your supposed father, didn't know anything real about you. he didn't know you as a father should know his daughter. but he knew which buttons to press.

he only knew what to say to you when it would allow him the opportunity of watching you fall a little deeper towards rock bottom.

you knew that the room had cameras covering every square inch, and the microphones ensured that you're accidental admission to your heritage was heard by your entire task force.

there was a red hot pit opening inside of you, caving your insides in like a black hole and threatening to consume your entire being. it was rage, you realized. something you only ever seemed to feel in the presence of one person.

you briefly considered killing him, right there and then. was this really the straw that broke your back? it truly was just another thing to add to the list. you had known he would do this.

no, you were angry at yourself.

on the other side of the door, the four men of the 141 task force were all stood still in shock. what the hell did you just say?

none of them wanted to believe it. they especially didn't want to admit that it made sense. you had done a fucking fantastic job of hiding it, they'll admit that, but even you couldn't hide everything.

price saw the way you tensed when you were passed laswell's photo of makarov in the bar, after you had all put an end to hassan's plan. he saw the way you dropped it and slid it to the next person quickly, as if touching the picture had burned your fingertips.

soap had asked you if you were okay more than once during the plane ride to russia. you were so restless, so different from your usual grounded self. you just said you were having some flying anxiety. he felt stupid now for writing it off so easily.

and kyle, the first one to trust you (and to even really talk to you), he had seen the anger sparking off of you while you shot your way through the tower to get to makarov. floor after floor, bullet after bullet, you had paved a path of blood through the mercenaries. he wondered if someone else had taken your mask and gear and was pretending to be you.

simon saw the fear in you when you all got to the last door. you had been so quick in your endeavor to get here, but he saw you hesitate to follow them in. he saw how you never took your wide eyes off of him, and how you stayed a few steps back, moving far out of the way when price began to escort him out in handcuffs.

and when they had asked you to go into the interrogation room, they all saw how you stopped breathing, and the sweat collecting on what little skin they could see above your mask. you had stuttered when you quietly agreed.

when you stepped into the room, makarov took one look at your eyes, and you knew he recognized you. no, he recognized the hatred. and it made him smile.

now, sitting in the cold metal chair, you realized that it wasn't just one mistake, but a series of them; you had let him unravel you, again. you understood, finally, that he saw you as he did everyone else. he saw you as someone that held him back.

part of you had always known, ever since you were young, still single-digits, and he would only visit you once every few months, if that. you had elected to ignore it. now you couldn't.

you couldn't move. behind you was the door that would lead you to the consequences of your actions. in front of you was the reason for those actions.

this is what you had wanted, wasn't it? it was like something snapped back into place, and you suddenly remembered that everything you had done up until now, every time you put the mask on before leaving your room, every lie you had told and every person you had killed had been to get you here. in front of your father. you remembered that the image of him with a bullet between his eyes was what kept you going.

if you killed him, would it finally absolve you? the gun on your hip felt twenty pounds heavier now. your fingers, folded together in your lap with a white-knuckle grip, felt like lead. would this sin make all the other wrongs right?

a tiny voice was telling you to just walk away, let the team's wrath come down on you and let them deal with makarov, but you had already thrown the table between you towards the wall, he was already on the ground with your hands wrapped around his throat.

you were yelling, no, screaming at him. all the compacted feelings from years and years of being as quiet as possible came up like vomit, spewing out in a mess that could never be cleaned up.

there were more than just makarov's hands on you, pushing and pulling you away from him and dragging you out of the room, kicking and screeching to let you just finally kill him, while two other blurry shapes hauled him back into his own chair.

the heavy metal door shut behind the two people practically carrying you, and they finally let you go. you stumbled a few steps away, whirling around for the next target of your fury.

your captain and lieutenant were standing in front of you, both tensed, waiting for you to do something. you couldn't exactly make out their faces- were you crying?

"what in the bloody hell just happened in there?" price snarled. it was the voice he used when he was face to face with his enemy.

"let me back in there." it was a demand. you needed to kill him.

"that's not gonna happen," simon barked. john and kyle had come out from the interrogation room to stand behind the other two men. "you need to explain, now."

they all stared at you with varying looks of anger and hurt. it wasn't the first time you'd ever had it directed at you, but this was somehow worse than all the others.

every cell in your body was shrieking at you to just run for the door, to somehow get through all four of these men, your teammates, your friends, and kill makarov. but their glares glued you to your spot.

"please-" your voice was trembling, years of grief and agony dripping from every word, "please, just let me kill him. you have to let me kill him." you spoke slowly and quietly, focusing on just trying to get the words out. you took a shaky breath and focused your eyes on a muddy bootprint on the floor. you didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

"you don't understand, you just- just let me back in there, please, i'll get whatever you need out of him, but he needs to die!" your voice was getting louder, and you briefly wondered if your father could hear you. "his men are probably already on their way here. don't you get it? if i don't kill him now, he will get out."

the men in front of you were more shocked now than anything at the change in your demeanor. you had been coined the "second ghost" throughout the units, partly for the mask, but also because of your detachment. you were kind, but you always held logic above emotion.

in front of them now was nothing short of a nervous wreck.

despite not moving, you were frantic. you were wringing your hands together, pressed tight against your stomach. your eyes darted from side to side, person to person, between them and the door to makarov.

price took a step forward and you took a step back. he was slow, bringing his hand up as if he were approaching a wild animal. if he was still angry, he was hiding it now.

"come on, kid, let's just get out of 'ere, eh? go somewhere away from him," he said lowly. the other three men watched tensely, not moving, but their hands still close to their guns. just in case.

"no, no- just let me- price, you need to let me back in there!" you were a broken record, you knew it, but there was nothing else to say, nothing else you could think about. this was what you had been waiting for, you were right where you had wanted to be for the past- how many years now? how long has he tormented you for now?

you could feel your father's presence in the next room like bugs crawling across your body. it made your head feel fuzzy and your hands shake. was it from rage or fear? you couldn't tell, so you chose the rage.

it was like bile stuck in your throat, all the pain makarov had caused you finally being unearthed. you wanted to throw it all up and spit it out onto him, lay your organs and hatred alike out on the table in front of him so he could see the decay. you wanted him to rot from the inside out like you had.

your eyes glanced at the door one last time before focusing on price. he was watching you, just a couple of steps in front of you now.

"let me back in there, john." it was a whisper, but still the steadiest thing you had spoken since they had dragged you out.

"no." he said your name quietly, and you heard it as the plea it was, but you're head decided it was done listening.

your body threw itself at him, swinging underneath his arms and onto his back to try and get him on the ground. the room exploded into yelling, and multiple pairs of hands were on you in an instant, hauling you off of price and forcing you face-down onto the ground with your hands behind your back.

cold metal latching around your wrists didn't stop your screaming and kicking, lashing out at the air around you. it didn't work well, because you were being hauled back to your feet and pushed into a separate interrogation room.

whoever was carrying you didn't bother with trying to attach your handcuffs to the table, basically throwing you in and slamming the door shut before you could get back on your feet.

outside the cell, the four men stood in silent shock. what was there to say, where would they even start? would they really be able to hear each other over your muffled screams to let you out?

you didn't know how long you had been in there once the door finally opens again, but you had stopped screaming and struggling to get out of the room. you had sat down at the table, your hands folded in front of you on the cold surface. you stared down at the blood beading and smearing around the handcuffs.

kyle squeezed in through the tiny amount he'd let the door open before he shut it quickly, keeping his eyes on you. you didn't look up, your red eyes staying fixed on one point even as he slowly moved closer. he followed them to see the red rings underneath the steel, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart tight.

he sat down across from you, folding his hands in front of him on the table, mirroring you. you still hadn't looked up at him, or done anything to acknowledge his presence; you hadn't even moved.

"are you alright?" kyle implored. he kept his voice soft, bending over a little to try to look you in the eye.

it took you a few moments to respond; he almost started to think you didn't hear him before you opened your mouth slowly.

"is he dead?" you croaked.

kyle let out an audible sigh while he leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands up to drag them down his face.

"no, we still need him. you know that."

you didn't say anything after that.

after sitting in silence for two full minutes, he spoke up. "you realize not telling us about this makes you look really bad, yeah?"

"you don't trust me anymore?" you whispered it, like you didn't want him to hear and answer. you knew what he would say.

"you aren't making it very easy."

kyle wanted to trust you still. part of him was angry and confused as to why you had kept something like this from them. the other part, the bigger part of him, knew that you were on still on the same side of it all. and he knew the other three men felt the same, but they couldn't just dismiss this.

"we can work this out, ya' know. you just have to be honest with us," he added after you once again stayed silent.

"be honest?" you echoed. you finally looked up at him. "about what? you heard me. makarov is my father. i want him dead. that's all there is to say."

kyle took his turn to not speak, weighing your words, figuring out where to go from there.

"why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

you looked back down at your wrists. "if i had told you i was makarov's daughter before i joined the team, then all i would have ever been is makarov's daughter." you paused to take a deep, shaky breath. it was uncomfortable with your mask still on, wet with tears, but you refused to take it off, to give away the last piece of your identity that was still yours at the moment.

"it's something we should have known," he contended quickly. "we could have used the information you have-"

you cut him off, your eyes snapping back up to glare daggers at him. "you think i know anything more than you?" you barked. something between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat before you could continue. "i was eight years old the last time i saw him in person. i was raised by live-in nannies. he only visited, what, maybe twice a year? and i don't know why he even bothered, either."

your hands were clenched into tight fists, and the same sting that circled your wrists was appearing in your palms. you kept going though; you didn't know if you could stop now.

"every time i get somewhere, every time i start making a life for myself again, he fucks it all up. never showed his damn face, but it was him, it was always-" you finally cut yourself off, not wanting to drag more memories out from the dark.

"makarov may be my father, but i am not his daughter. i swear, kyle, i fucking swear it." you were pleading with him to believe you now. you needed them to understand.

you could see it in the way his eyebrows creased that he wanted to take your words as the truth. but he didn't say anything (what could he have said?).

the door opened once again, and price half-entered the room to wave kyle back out. he avoided your gaze, something he'd never done before. then you were alone again.

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silkjade · 1 year

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genshin men x driving

this is so dumb but it had to be said. I've been driving for a while so a lot of these are taken from irl experiences I've had myself or from friends. also I'm american so this is based on driving in the u.s. | modern au, humor, fluff, reckless driving

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐭

albedo ;; he has a habit of driving on the inner most lane of the highway but he doesn’t start switching to the exit lane until like 1 exit before. drove klee to the beach once 2 years ago and is still somehow finding sand in his car. all his turns are super wide

diluc ;; probably drives a very classic luxury car, like an aston martin or something. it’s sleek, it’s black, it’s giving batmobile because he drove with his high beams on for like 6 months and doesn’t get why it’s bad. it makes the road brighter he says as he blinds everyone going the other way. drives stick shift (manual), very hot when he reverses and puts his arm around the passenger seat

kaeya ;; he was the first person to get his license and everyone would ask him for rides, so now he drives a tiny sports car that doesn't fit anything. it’s also a luxury car but it’s flashier than diluc’s. follows driving laws to the T except for the fact that he never fully stops at stop signs

venti ;; an okay driver but it’s a terrible experience. you're amazed at how he hasn't run into any trouble yet. like at all. the kind of person who would try to run the yellow light except he’s doesn’t make it and is forced to brake really hard and just goes like "is everyone ok ehe.” you almost die and he says “oops”

𝐥𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐞

xiao ;; pet peeve: slow drivers. absolutely cannot stand sitting in traffic so he rides a motorcycle. always weaving in between cars but does it significantly less if you’re riding with him. has yanfei on speed dial in case of an accident. doesn’t know he’s super hot when he takes off his helmet and shakes his hair

zhongli ;; a slow driver. goes under the speed limit on the highway and gets cut off like no tomorrow. he doesn't think he's the problem though, just complains about how everyone is going way too fast. safety king. fakes injury for insurance money when someone hits him; only feels kind of bad

𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐚

ayato ;; has a driver that takes him everywhere because he does not drive, doesn't even have a license. passed his written exam with flying colors but failed on all three tries behind-the-wheel. his younger sister drives the car their parents bought for him. always likes tweets that are like “hot people don’t have their license”

gorou ;; family van kind of guy. very reliable and will drive you to the airport or help you move. doesn’t signal when switching lanes though which is kind of annoying. gets anxious driving in areas where there are a lot of one ways. always buys fruits from vendors selling it on the side of the road

heizou ;; drives with the top down, windows down and will make you feel like a coming of age movie protagonist. has the best driving playlist but will still hand you the aux if you ask. doesn’t pay for street parking though; parking meter? never heard of her

itto ;; car guy ™ who goes to car meets and mods his car. revs his engine when he sees his friends on the road but other than that he's actually a really good driver. takes very good care of his car— that’s his baby. he’s hot when he backs into parking spaces perfectly. blasts his music too loud at night though

kazuha ;; public transport icon. somehow never misses his bus/train/whatever and always manages to squeeze on even during rush hour. he tells people it's for the environment but that’s only half true. it's not that he can't drive, he just has the jankiest car; it's old as hell, has a dent on one side, and the passenger door doesn't even open from the inside

thoma ;; shining example of a perfect driver, the dmv wants him to do all their instructional videos. was only ever pulled over once before for swerving, but talked his way out of a ticket because he was trying to avoid hitting an animal. has those family stickers on his rear windshield except it's one man and like 3 dogs

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐮

al haitham ;; probably has an suv because he thinks it’s the most useful car and can get the most out of it. almost exclusively listens to audiobooks while driving. he had a great record until he accidentally rear ended a bus because he turned around to argue with kaveh in the backseat and now his car insurance is insanely high

cyno ;; super responsible driver, both hands on the wheel at 9 and 3 at all times. secretly really wants a retired police car because he thinks the idea of people suddenly slowing down when they see him on the road, thinking it’s a cop, is hilarious. names his car something stupid like attila the hyundai

kaveh ;; terrible at directions, his gps is constantly saying “rerouting” because he keeps missing turns and exits. cannot parallel park to save his life and will ask you to switch and park for him. generally a polite driver but if he's ever behind al haitham at a stop light, he beeps his horn at him 0.2 seconds after the light turns green

tighnari ;; his trunk is always full of plants and bags of soil, fertilizer, etc. has mild road rage; if he’s forced to brake hard because someone cut him off, especially while he has the right of way, he’s yelling in the car like “I should’ve hit you” because insurance would be on his side. carries snacks in his glove compartment, soccer mom energy

𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

childe ;; exclusively uses the term 'my tesla' instead of 'my car.' he insists on having it self drive to you from the parking lot; it takes forever and more often than not, it'd be faster to just walk. doesn't matter how far away he is, he's gonna go for that yellow light, it's a race against time and he's gonna win. one hand on the wheel, one hand on your thigh

dainsleif ;; drives in silence, no music no radio— nothing; sometimes he'll listen to self help podcasts though. a lot of the times he zones out and doesn’t know how he got from point a to point b. sits in his car for like half an hour after arriving home. likes holding your hand while driving

dottore ;; mutters “this would be a good place to dump a body” whenever he drives past a ditch. got pulled over for driving in the carpool lane by himself and using a mannequin to fake a passenger. they also found a bunch of questionable things in his car that he swears is for science. no longer drives because his license got revoked

pantalone ;; his car is immaculately clean. charges you for gas and makes you wipe your shoes before stepping in. always wants to stop for coffee first before going anywhere. has a lot of money but doesn’t know shit about cars so he gets way overcharged at bodyshops

scaramouche ;; says things like “I will crash this car right now” if he’s arguing with someone. hates backseat drivers and will threaten to kick you out if you are one. sometimes speeds down an empty highway at night just to feel something but drives extra carefully when nahida’s around. parks in the far corner of a supermarket parking lot to cry

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #childe x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #zhongli x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaeya x reader #dottore x reader #genshin impact imagines

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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Propaganda

Theda Bara (Cleopatra)—One of cinema's first female sex symbols. Nicknamed "The Vamp" due to her looks. The OG Goth Girl. She would be HUGE on Tumblr if she were around today!

Helen Gibson (The Hazards of Helen series)— If you voted for Buster Keaton, VOTE FOR HELEN GIBSON! This woman threw herself onto things, off of things, under things, and over things (mainly trains and horses). She started in Hollywood as a trick rider and stunt double, eventually headlining a series of action films called “The Hazards of Helen.”

This is round 2 of the tournament [EDIT: YES IT SAYS ROUND 1 IN THE POLL. OOPS. IT IS ROUND 2.]. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman. (remember that our poll era starts in 1910, so please don't use propaganda from before that date.)

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Theda Bara:

She was simply nicknamed "The Vamp". Her sex appeal and typecasting was so intense that people actually thought that she lounged around half-naked and seduced men left and right in her free time.

She is one of the most famous and enduring faces in silent film and yet only 6 of her 43 films survived the 1937 Fox Vault Fire! 6! Think about what we could have had!

*Theeee* celluloid blueprint for both goth chicks and sexually-manipulative women--her persona was that of a "vampire", in the sense that would eventually be shortened into "vamp", although in truth she blended both definitions beautifully. Alas, the prints of most of her back-catalogue were lost to a studio fire in 1937, but enough survives to clearly demonstrate the fantasy of enticing danger that she was so kind as to serve us.

my favorite goth icon i want her gender

She's the original Vamp and first film sex symbol! She said: “The vampire that I play is the vengeance of my sex upon its exploiters. You see, I have the face of a vampire, but the heart of a feministe.” Many of her films were banned or severely cut by state and city censorship boards due to her revealing costumes and suggestive acting. She even sued the Chicago Funkhouser censorship board to let her film Cleopatra be shown in theaters. Riots broke out in theaters during showings of her film Kathleen Mavourneen. In contrast to her film persona, her private life was pretty quiet. She grew up in Cincinnati as Theodosia "Theda" Goodman, the Jewish daughter of immigrants, and had one happy marriage that lasted 30+ years until she died at age 69.

Helen Gibson:

#helen gibson #theda bara #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

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Black Light 1

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: someone said August.

Part of The Club AU

It's retro night. You're looking bomb, feeling fly, ready to get groovy. In a manner of speaking. Platforms, short skirt, a crop top with a faux fur bolero. You are channeling your inner Cher Horowitz.

It's your nineteenth birthday and you can drink your ass off. At last. It's your time. The best days of your life are ahead of you.

Not only are you vibing, you have your posse, your trio of thots. You're not the queen bee but you're a great sidekick. The Regina George of the group is definitely Amanda and her svelte blond hair, but you'd say Kamlai is more the Gretchen Wieners than you.

You smile at the bouncer, a man with a derisive look on his eye that makes you want to dissolve into sand or dust. Whatever. Maybe a nice eerie fog so you can float away. You only catch half his face as he keeps in the shadows, waving in coeds and a few middle-aged creepers.

You wish you got the nice one with the belly. You wait for the silent man to scowl at your ID. He holds it up beside you before he flicks it back to you.

"Thank you, sir," you catch the plastic card against your chest, his eye glinting towards your cleavage.

"Go," he growls and waves forward the next eager club goer.

"Oop, okay, sorry," you make a gesture like Betty Boop, raising your shoulders as you kick a foot up, "have a great night!"

He grumbles and you quickly run to catch up with Kam and Amanda. The pulsing music embraces you and you feel the energy flow into you. This night is gonna be awesome!

"You guys have to make sure to get pics of me!" Amanda hollers above the beat, "with the cutest guy I can find. Seth can eat his heart out."

You shake your head, shrugging off your disappointment. It's supposed to be your day but somehow Amanda always finds her way into the spotlight. You're not going to worry, you're all about fun!

You get your first round of drinks and find a seat. Amanda drinks her pink martini as she scopes out the room. She blows a nonplussed raspberry.

"Ugh, not finding any hunky fuckboys," she rolls her eyes, "I mean, I need someone super fucking hot."

"Don't we all," Kam giggles as her eyes rove, "how about an older guy?"

"Hm?" Amanda gives a pout and twists around to follow Kamlai's gaze. She tilts her head back and forth.

"Not too bad, I'll take the middle one," she winks, "you two can fight over who doesn't get specs."

You look at Kam then back to the three men along the wall. Amanda must be referring to the one with the spiky hair and glasses. He's cute but you're not really into the leering type.

"It's my birthday," you say as Amanda's already on her feet.

You peek at the third guy, sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He's not bad. Besides, you just have to dance, Amanda can do all the wants but you're not that kinda gal. You're too damn weird to be the hookup type.

"Fine," Kam rolls her eyes, "I'll take the nerd."

🥂

You grab the stranger's hands and once more drag them off your ass. You put them on your waist and give him a look. Dude, really, take a hint.

Well, he's not a stranger stranger. His name is Cole and he likes flowers. Adorable but still, a bit too old for you.

You turn, an excuse too look around at your friends as you shimmy your hips. Kam isn't as detered as she originally let on and Amanda is gone. Alright…

"How about a drink?" Cole startles you as he leans forward to yell in your ear, "I think I owe the birthday girl at least one."

"Oh, uh, alright," you turn back to him, "sure, I needa sit down anyway."

You follow him to the bar and wait by his arm as he orders. Fuck Amanda, really? Where is she?

"Here," Cole turns back to you, handing over the bright blue cocktail, "birthday special."

You nod and smile. You look at the slice of orange hooked over the edge and sniff the sweet drink. You put your lips to the straw but before you can take a sip, it's torn out of your grasp.

"Hey fucker," the snarl bites through the breakdown of the Cyndi Lauper classic.

A large figure pushes between you and Cole, throwing the drink in his face as he sputters. You gape in surprise and look up as the bouncer stands between you and your erstwhile dance partner. He grabs the smaller man by the collar, knocking his drink to the floor.

"Get the fuck outta here."

The bouncer shoves Cole into a stool and rolls his shoulders. You have no idea what's going on. Cole gulps and looks between you and the large man, himself not by any means small but taking a quick hint. He scrabbles away as you check your feet, a few drops of alcohol on your shoes.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take drinks from strangers," the bouncer turns with a bark, "fucking bimbo."

You frown at the insult but can't muster a response before he storms away. You peer down at the puddle of the cocktail then spin to see the bouncer disappear through the door. Huh, he must've seen something you didn't. You should've known Cole was a creep. You just hope his friends aren't the same.

#august walker x reader #august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #drabble #series #black light #au #mission impossible: fallout

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skinnyazn · 11 months

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Lick Your Wounds

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 1/? Notes: Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral, also inspired by how freaking hot and humid it’s been in FL lately, I literally just churned this out at work today oops, maybe one or two more chapters, eventual smut but not yet, sorry not sorry if there are grammatical errors; I can't fucking read,

Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

Sweat rolled down your temple, trickling the length of your neck before settling in the crook of your collar bone. The humidity was thick, suffocating. Like you could cut it with a knife and it would still cling to you. The jungle was alive with noise.

“‘Bout 20 meters out. There’s a good perch for you comin’ up on your right.”

“Copy.”

You continued to stalk through the foliage, thankful for the screaming cicadas that masked the sound of your movements through the dense growth of flora.

“Visual on the compound.” Soap’s voice came through your comms evenly.

“Count?”

“Three around the perimeter, two on the roof. Jag should be able to take them no problem.”

“Copy,” you spoke again.

You saw the perch Ghost was talking about. It was a wall of sorts, with vines reclaiming it. Some old vestige of humanity, forgotten to time. Huffing, you scaled the old stone. Laying supine, you slung your sniper rifle in front of you and peered through the scope. You could see the first target one on the roof, but the second was obscured by the dense jungle. The cicadas screamed on.

“No clear visual on the right target,” you spoke into the comms. “How do we want to do this?” You watched a mosquito buzz by and land on your arm. You slapped it, leaving a bloody splotch on your skin.

“Jag, take your shot on my mark. I’ll ‘andle the other one.” Below you, Simon waded further ahead; his camo blended into the underbrush.

“Copy. What about the perimeter?”

“Soap, you take right, I’ll take center. Jag do you have visuals on the left?”

“Affirm.”

“Alright then. Work you magic.”

You smiled. “Always do.”

Soap scoffed on the other side of the comms. “We know. Hear Ghost blabberin’ about it all the fecking time.”

“That’ll do, Sergeant.” Ghost barked.

It wasn’t necessarily true. Most of the time his blabbering was muffled into your skin, the wetness of your mouth or the delicious heat of you. They usually came out as low groans. Sharp hisses. You hadn’t really kept what was going on between you two a secret since your rejoining of the task force. But you also didn’t air it out in the open. And when you fucked, you tried to be quiet. Easier said than done when Simon was pressed to his hilt inside of you, kissing your neck and gripping your thighs like it was his latest mission. Maybe you two weren’t being as quiet as you thought.

“Right.” Simon’s basso voice brought your focus back. “On my count.”

The two men on the roof dropped quickly. The three on the ground followed. A smooth takedown. You slung the weight of your rifle behind you and scaled down the wall, landing with a soft thud. Some sweat splashed off you.

“Fucking drenched here.” You mumbled to yourself. Soap’s chuckle could be heard on the comms.

“On me, at the entrance.”

A few minutes later the three of you were crouched low next to the perimeter wall.

“Nice of you to finally join us, bonnie.”

You smiled at Soap. Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Jag, get up to the perimeter and guide us through. Soap, on me. The cunts will be well-armed inside the compound. Let’s keep things quiet and clean.” Soap and you nodded. “Right, let’s get up there.”

Soap shot a grapple to the perimeter wall.

“Ladies first,” he gestured, with his signature buoyant grin.

You clipped your pulley to the rope and ascended. The brief rush of air was a blessed respite from the heat. Hoisting yourself over the wall’s edge, you crouched down. Insects were already starting to buzz around the lifeless man on the floor. You tried not to get any of his blood on your boots as you stepped over him.

Ghost and Soap followed quietly behind. You pressed your body against the hot concrete.

“Christ alive, look at all that,” Johnny whispered next to you.

It was decent sized compound, hidden away in the Lacandon jungle. Stacks of crates littered the grounds, while armed men wandered about. Their radios blasted urbano music. In total, you counted 15 men out in the open, but who knows how many more were inside. Of course the target building was at the far side of the compound. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was doable. And, the blasting music paired with cacophony of tropical birds and insects made for perfect cover. Soap’s hand clapped your shoulder.

You nodded at him and Simon. “Good luck, boys.”

“Don’t need luck. We’ve got you, Jaguar,” Soap winked and then started to descend the rope on the interior.

Simon’s eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You held the gaze. Then he turned and followed Soap.

After silently taking down the first two men, Ghost and Soap moved quietly ahead.

“Walk us through, Jag,” Simon’s voice came over hushed and gravelly. Try as you might, it always sent heat between your legs when he rasped through the comms.

“One on your left, just around the crate. Use your knife.” Simon took him down with ease. “Got another two crates ahead.” You maneuvered the two through the complex from you perch, watching them exact their deadly dance. “Hold,” you spoke when the two came closer to the target building. A group of four men were lingering outside, chatting and smoking. “Coming up on four. Might be best to cause a distraction.”

“Can’t we just frag these guys,” Soap muttered to himself.

“How many left in the compound, Jag?” Simon asked.

“Two in the North East corner, and one at your eight o’clock. And the four ahead.”

You heard Simon let out a long sigh.

“Don’t know how many are inside though,” you reminded him.

“Thas what I’m worried about.”

“Your call, L.T.,” Johnny huffed. “They’re gonna hear some booms when I demo the door anyway.”

You could almost hear Simon thinking. You wiped the sweat that was beading at your brow with the back of your gloved hand. Finally he said, “Jag, take the other three. Soap’s got these four. Be prepared for a fight after.”

Your heartbeat sped up. You hated unknowns but that was part of your job. So all you could say in return was “Copy.”

Each kickback from your M82 was a tangible reminder of the death you so expertly dealt. The three men went down with ease, painting the sun-scorched earth in red. And when Soap’s grenade went off, you sucked in a deep breath and honed your focus as you picked off the swarm of men that rushed outside. Time had a funny way of moving while adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was simultaneously slow and fast. Like each bullet left your gun in slow-motion while you moved from target to target. Schrödinger’s Time.

There were a lot more people than you thought, but the steady breathing over the comms was reassuring that Soap and Ghost were handling themselves. Through your scope, you watched men’s heads swivel as they tried to spot you. But each tac from your rifle met them all the same.

“Take out that fucking RPG, Jag!” Simon shouted over the comms. It was jarring, Simon’s yelling amidst the gunfire and insects.

You pulled away from your scope to spot the target, but the compound was big. When you finally saw him, you lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. You’d hit your mark—watched him crumple. But his aim was already on you, and as his body fell a flash of orange emitted. You began to move but felt the explosion of the perimeter wall below you. And then everything was crumbling in an eruption of dust. You thought you heard Simon screaming into the comms, but all you could think about as you fell was: who the fuck carries a rocket launcher?

#my fic #cod fic #Simon ghost Riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x female reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x jaguar #ghost x jaguar #ghost x you #ghost x reader #mw2 #ghost mw2 #Simon ghost riley #fan fiction #fanfiction

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bi-writes · 10 months

Text

what never left us | j.m.

there isn't a place dark enough to hide the things i've done for you.

type: one-shot, written in third person (no use of y/n) pairing: dark!joel miller x dark!afab!fem!reader word count: 11.7k (oops, strap in) warnings: implied age gap, extremely mature language and content, extremely mature written sexual content (see details below the cut), 🔞⚠️ summary: it isn't your fault that nobody understands how far you'll go for him; it isn't your fault that they don't understand what he is to you. complete masterlist

detailed warnings: extremely dark content ahead. includes themes of extreme violence and murder + sexual, emotional, and physical manipulation. read at your own discretion.

It was not quite clear when she realized she was not like other little girls. Her earliest memories were not the same as other women. She had no memory of life before, of dollhouses and pink tutus. She only had recollections of still-hot gun barrels and the stray bullets they left behind; she only truly remembered the pink that blood became when washed away by rainwater, and how it could stain canvas shoes the same color if she stuck out her foot to meet the flowing trails.

She had not been interested in the things that other little girls were interested in. She didn’t want to play pretend. She didn’t feel like braiding her hair or coloring pictures or reading stories. She was only fascinated by what was. By reality. By the things that shaped the world, and not the things that existed in fantasy. The scars on her fingertips from touching the sharp edges of blades too often attested too well to that fact.

The only thing she found she had in common with some other girls, finally, was the way her eyes followed other boys. She did not fawn over them as some others had. Some of them had been pretty, had smiles that were attractive, but this was where she again realized she was not the same as anyone else. Where others saw the possibility of romance, of love, of the idea of forever in one other person, she thought practically. The first boy she ever kissed was willing to trade the kiss for a box of ammo. The transaction had seemed agreeable to her then. She never saw affection or love the same way again.

Touch was a deal, a trade. It was not gentle or kind, it did not signify love or warmth or tenderness. She learned very quickly that in this new world, in the only world she had ever known, touch was scarce and a useful bartering tool. She could use it to her advantage, trick men into thinking they had control, kiss them until they dropped their guard and reap the rewards of their lust-clouded minds.

Perhaps that was why to show affection, she thought violence was her truest option.

But there was nothing romantic about this. If she looked up and tried to forget what laid underneath her, she might pretend; if the only thing in her view was the sky, then perhaps she could play along with the idea that it was just another day. But the shielded view was brief, and when her eyes dropped back to the body beneath her, all she could really do was wrench the hatchet out of the girl’s neck and clean it off against the fabric of their shirt.

The girl was pretty. She had long hair, glassy eyes, and pouty lips. She thought maybe those lips were what drew him to her. They resembled her own, the curve of them just round enough to almost look like they belonged to her. She bent down, fishing through the girl’s pockets, finding crumpled rations in one and a few pieces of contraband in another—cigarettes, a few batteries, and a tube of 20 year-old lip gloss. She clenched her jaw at the sight of it. It was strawberry flavored, and when she popped the cap open on it, she smelled the moldy, sickly artificial candy flavoring that she had noticed against the collar of his shirt just a few hours ago.

She wondered if he knew what he smelled like. She wondered if he knew she was observant enough to smell something different on him. Something new. Unwelcome. She wondered if he knew and chose not to change his shirt or decided to see how she reacted. She wondered if he knew at all how much she felt, and how easily she let it consume her entire being.

No. He was a man. He definitely had not thought that far.

She tossed the lip gloss back on top of her, standing up straight as she slipped the hatchet back into its place on her belt. She rolled her neck out, taking a few glances at her surroundings before leaving the girl to rot in a forgotten corner of the city.

No one would find her. Not for many days, at least. Perhaps it would be the smell that they would follow to her. Or maybe the rats would discover the girl first and cover her tracks better than time could.

It was dark, much too dark. It was too far past curfew to be able to use the excuses she normally used; it was too long after work shifts to pretend an extra shift ran over, and it was too early to be on her way to a morning one. So, she kept to the alleys, taking cover in doorways when she noticed lights flooding through the streets. She was small enough to fit into hidden spaces, and she used it to her advantage, slipping between buildings barely making noise. Going through undetected, being able to disappear into a crowd, blending in and fitting in and being unseen was her specialty; no one could hide better, and no one could get their hands on what she could.

Smuggling was all she knew. Since she was small, growing up on the overgrown city streets meant learning how to survive. She was not able to work enough to live, but she found that as a child, she could get through places that adults could not. With this knowledge and just a bit of bravery, she learned how to move through the city in corridors and through spaces that only she knew of. If someone needed something hidden, it would not be seen until asked for again. If someone needed something taken from one end of the city to another, she would get it there every time. She was resourceful, determined, and too good at what she did.

Even as she grew, she kept these routes to herself, even made new ones when others seemed to follow her tracks, earning herself an unrivaled reputation that too many people needed in the city to ever try and stop her. She knew many, many people; but there was only one man that she ever cared to learn the name of.

Joel.

He had heard from a friend of a friend about what it was that she did. Hiding, disappearing, moving things around, it was what he needed, and he needed the best. It was just another job, taking a bag from him, not asking questions or looking inside of it, and taking it to a secure location before dropping it off somewhere very specific on the west side of the city.

But sometimes jobs got messy. She didn’t lose the bag. She hadn’t looked inside. She hadn’t left the package in the wrong place. No, she just let the job get personal.

She was a bullet that he never saw coming. The first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was nothing but trouble. Such pretty features she had; he couldn’t stop looking at her. Hair lovely enough to pull. Greedy lips. Eyes he could get lost in. Figure-hugging denim, with enough pockets for her to hide something dangerous. And her voice—a siren song, a soft beckoning, a sound that he would never forget again.

The look in her eyes when he met her gaze for the first time told him she was thinking just the same thing. It was hard not to. There were men, and then there was Joel. All hard lines and words that stung like venom, but she liked them that way. And so she had smiled, wet her bottom lip, and purred as she took the contraband from him—tell me where you want it. In lieu of payment, she found herself tangled between the sheets of his bed, waking up to the sight of him counting the ration cards on the table and nodding for her to leave.

She had left. But it didn’t mean she stopped coming back.

She wanted to feel bad for sleeping with him. She wanted to regret every time she left his apartment with a shakiness in her step from how rough his touch had gotten. She wanted to take herself seriously when she promised that one more night was all she needed, and then she would never come back, but she always ended up right back where she started.

It was simple; she could not stay away from him, and he would not turn her away. There was a kind of satisfaction that came with ending up in his bed. Joel had his own reputation. He was good at what he did, too, and his name was enough to make others nervous. Joel could get his hands on things that no one else could; cigarettes, drugs, even books or the nostalgia of a certain candy for the right price. He ran his business like he fucked her—quiet, deliberate, easy.

He was not known to be a kind man. Often, she heard groups talk about him with distaste, complaining about the sway of prices in contraband or how they met the wrong end of his fist for trying to undercut him. She even heard a woman cry at the way he had killed her partner, but she just licked her lips at the thought, thinking the woman had been holding back part of the story, maybe perhaps a moment when her partner tried to hold a gun up to Joel’s head and cut their deal short. Joel was not a man someone tried to subdue; he was too good at reading the room, at handling himself around a gun, at using the rough timber of his voice to make others shake under his tense gaze.

And because of this, she felt her own power in the way she could have him underneath her any night she liked. What started out as a business transaction turned into genuine attraction, into learning what his kisses felt like and how warm his hands were on her bare skin and how nice his voice sounded as it spewed profanities into her ear. She was satiated inside having influence over a feared, unruly, unforgiving man, one at her beck and call. Joel was hers. He belonged to no one else.

She just wish he understood that. Then she wouldn’t have had to dirty her favorite weapon and dull its edge. Maybe, just maybe, that girl would still be so pretty.

When she shut the door to her apartment and turned on the lights, she bit back a smile at the sight in front of her. He was there, taking up her space, legs spread as he sat at her kitchen table and sipped liquor from a chipped glass. She realized early on that Joel had no clue how attractive he really was. He had no idea how the solidness of him was enough to have her on her knees; he had no idea that the low tone of his voice could get her off alone, and that there was no other living thing in this Godforsaken world that could handle her body the way he could. She put down her backpack, making her way to him, surprised but not unwelcoming of him waiting for her like this.

She stopped in front of him, expecting him to stand and kiss her and manhandle her into her bedroom, but he just sat there still, his jaw hard and tight as he moved the glass around in his hand and watched the liquor swirl with the movement.

“Where were you?” He asked. Her excited expression faded into something a bit dismal, and she tried to not let the annoyance show on her face. She made her way into her kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and taking out her own glass. She took a seat across from him at the table, tipping the bottle over and letting the clicking of glass against glass make up the only response to his question. She took a long sip of the drink, letting it burn her throat nicely before looking at him again.

He was staring right back at her, glaring almost. Joel could be mean; he often was, even to her, but she had learned to ignore this behavior. He was mean to everyone. He was mean and cruel and impatient, but she liked that about him. It meant there was no room for fluff, for nothingness. It was all or nothing with him, and she never liked to prolong a chase. She was quite content to let him have what it was he wanted.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, laughing even, but it was dry and humorless. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Answer my fucking question.”

She tipped her head back, downing the rest of her drink before standing. She shook her hair out of the style she had put it in that morning, shaking it out before starting for her bedroom.

She didn’t make it very far. Just as quickly as she had started to walk away from him, he had caught her by the arm and slammed her up against the wall, towering over her with his height and broadness. She grunted a bit as her head hit the surface roughly, biting her tongue to not spit in his face in protest. She stared up at him angrily, but he put a forearm to her neck, holding her eyes to his so he could stare right back.

“Tell me where you were,” he muttered. “I ain’t askin’.”

She tilted her head to the side, gritting her teeth as she struggled against his obvious strength. She tried to turn her head to the side, but he pressed his arm against her throat harder, forcing her chin up just to breathe.

“What did I say?” He snapped. “Tell me.”

“Or what?” She shot back, a sick smile ghosting her face as she coughed a bit against him. “What are you gonna do, Joel? Hit me?” She snickered a bit, shaking her head as much as his grip allowed. “You won’t.” She leaned forward as much as she could, but it was close enough for her breath to warm his jaw. “You know I’d like it too much.”

He let his arm fall, his hand wrapping around the expanse of her throat and pushing her head back into the wall. She let out a hard breath at the new hold, but he was in control. He was too strong to fight against, but there was a gnawing in her belly that didn’t want to fight against this. If anything, his angry eyes were pretty, and his touch was hot, and his commanding voice was making her head dizzy with filthy thoughts. His intimidation was not having the effects he desired; he should’ve known better, should’ve known that they wouldn’t work on her at all.

“Listen to me—” He choked her a bit, almost lifting her up off her feet as he pressed her as hard as he could into the wood behind her. “If I find out you were up to no good, you won’t like what happens. I fucking mean it.”

“Yeah?” She let out with a strained breath. “You think I—You think I care, Joel?” She smiled again, a sickly sweet one that made his entire body feel hot with indifference. “If you’re going to try and scare me, you could at least not lie to me.”

“And you could try and not make fucking messes that I gotta clean up,” he growled. His eyes trailed a bit down her face, along her jaw. He lifted his thumb up, touching a speckle of something on her neck and watching it smear across her skin. Blood, still wet, painting her throat eerily. “What…what did you do?”

She felt his grip loosen just enough, and she let her eyes fall down the expanse of his face before settling on his lips. She stared at them, watching as he breathed steadily. They were a bit dry, a bit chapped, and she wanted to hydrate them, swallow him in kisses and let the night melt into morning into another forgotten day.

“Strawberry,” she whispered, licking her lips slowly.

“What?”

“It was strawberry,” she said again, a bit louder. “Strawberry lip gloss.”

Silence, and she scoffed a bit.

“I thought it was cherry,” she added, a terrifying smile on her face. Eyes sparkling with nothing but mischief, a sickening amount of enjoyment and satisfaction swimming in the depths of them. “But it was fucking strawberry…”

She finally let her eyes slowly rise to meet his, and she tilted her head to the side. She stood up on her toes, her nose touching his, their faces close enough that they could breathe each other in.

“Was it worth it, Joel?” She asked, putting a hand to his chest. “Tell me. How did she feel?”

He let her go finally, his features knitting together. A clear frown came over his face, and he stepped back from her. He still had a hand on her throat, but it laid there with no force, just holding her there. His eyes moved over her face, trying to discern what it was that she was saying. She looked so calm, too calm, and that smile on her was making him feel more uneasy with every passing second. He said her name, but his voice was so low, uncertain.

“What did you do?” He asked again. “What the fuck did you do?”

She put her hands on his chest, caressing the warmth of him for a moment. She leaned up on her toes more, her lips just barely grazing his, and he followed her instinctively, leaning towards her to try and close the space. Instead of giving in, she drew her head back just enough to deny him and pushed roughly on his chest, shoving him backwards with a grunt. She slipped the hatchet from her belt, putting the sharp edge to the middle of his chest, keeping him at a distance.

It was almost poetic, holding him there with the same blade that had sunk so deep into that girl’s carotid artery. She remembered her eyes as the life left them. She had watched as the blood that was supposed to be pumping into her pretty little brain spilled out onto the cracked floor instead, feeding nothing but air until she stilled and never moved. For someone that had gotten close to Joel, she remembered thinking that someone with so little fight in them didn’t deserve to be in his vicinity, in his circle, to breathe the same air as he did. The girl wasn’t worthy. She didn’t know how to survive. She would never have lasted, anyways.

Disposable. Naïve. Weak.

But worst of all, in my way.

“I should be asking you that question,” she murmured darkly. She let the blade drag up his chest, along the column of his throat, until it sat on the edge of his jaw. She let it dig in just slightly, forcing a low growl from him as a small bead of blood followed the invisible trail she had traced with her hatchet. She met his eyes, smiling again. “But it’s okay, Joel. I fixed things. You’ll learn.”

Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t.

She came close to him again, leaning up and putting her lips to his. Against his better judgment, he leaned closer, giving into her just like he always did. She licked into his mouth, letting the kiss warm him everywhere in all the wrong ways, and she tasted something so dirty on him. She was sure he must have tasted the same thing on her because he was desperate to keep her close, to keep kissing her, to get lost in the essence of her as he normally did. She bit down on his lip hard, drawing a hiss from him, and she pulled away slowly.

She whined with satisfaction, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. Staring up at him, into those sad eyes, she could see no matter how much blood she had on her hands, he would end up right here, following her lips and desperate for her to touch him in any way she desired. She separated Joel from other men because of how she craved him constantly, but she was always put at ease to know she could play him just like any other.

“Now…” She stepped back, letting her hand holding the weapon lower as she tossed it onto the table beside her. “Unless you’re going to join me—” She nodded her head to the bathroom, where a cold shower was waiting for her, “—you can let yourself out.”

She didn’t look back as she made her way into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror as she heard the front door of her apartment slam shut. She smiled anyways, smoothing a hand over her neck, watching the splatters of crimson smooth over her in strange, abstract lines.

She was so pretty.

He would come back. He always did.

His name was Brian.

I think.

He was new. He had a lopsided grin on his face, an easy demeanor, and he sipped alcohol with a slight wince, meaning he had yet to really get used to the bitter taste of whiskey. He was young, but he was just like the rest of them. She guessed he had grown up amongst the groups that ran the city. He had the stench of a boy dressing up like a man, and he had an eerie confidence in his eyes. He knew nothing of how things really worked, but he believed he did, and that was why he was talking to her in a husky voice, letting his lips graze the shell of her ear as he talked sweetness into it.

Her nails drew lines against the skin of his exposed forearm. She was staring up at him, pretending to listen to what he was saying, a little smile on her face. She looked sweet, as she always did, but he had no idea the thoughts that ran through her head. He had no idea that all she was thinking about was the contraband he had promised her, and how much more she could get out of him if she batted her lashes a bit more.

He was a man that responded to her advances. This was the trade, this was the deal, and he was falling into her waiting arms. A carnivorous plant perhaps, flashing and beautiful with a sickly sweet aroma, all too wonderful until they realized the sweetness would stick them to her, and they would have nowhere to run as she ate them right up.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get ahead. There was no person she wouldn’t step on. There was no place dark enough to hide the red on her ledger. She had no remorse for the things she had done, and she never would.

The noise around the speakeasy was low and buzzing, and the lights were dim enough to hide the way Brian’s hands smoothed up the skin of her thighs, but her eyes were adjusted enough to meet a certain man’s gaze from across the room. At the sight of him, she leaned in, letting the stranger crowd her space, his breath warm against her cheek, her smile coy and dark and hiding her true intentions.

Joel could see right through her. He had others around him, others wanting his attention, his opinion, his time, but he couldn’t concentrate on them. His eyes were fixed on where she sat at the bar. The boy was too close to her, he knew that much. He couldn’t see underneath the bar, but he imagined that there were unwanted hands in places that only he was allowed to touch. It was infuriating how she provoked him. She knew he was there now, he had locked eyes with her, and she seemed to be urging his anger to bubble up to the surface. She seemed to want him to lose his temper, to lose his composure, to stride over and slam that kid’s face against the counter until he had no teeth left to chew his food.

She wanted Joel to be mean. She liked when Joel was mean. He had heard her say it before, heard her moan it in his ear as he practically choked her into oblivion against the wall of his bedroom. She liked Joel when he was mean, and he could only guess that at this moment, she wanted Joel to be mean for her. He clutched a lukewarm beer tight, turning away from her. She was doing this on purpose. He did not want to entertain her irritable advances.

But, God, it was so hard to focus on anything except for her. She had taken her jacket off now, revealing a black tank top that revealed all her pretty skin. She was sweating a bit in the dark summer heat, and her chest was glistening with a slight sheen, drawing eyes exactly where she wanted them. She was too good at this, too good at playing the stupid, gullible woman. She was too good at hiding how dangerous she was. She was too good at letting men think she would coo and lick and kiss when in reality, she would bite their heads off as soon as she got them alone.

She liked biting. The taste of blood only fueled the hunger in her.

But then she were gone. She had disappeared into a small corner somewhere, leaving the boy to sit at the bar and order her another drink. Joel found himself moving through the crowd, weaving between bodies until he put his empty bottle down on the wood counter and motioned for another.

“Ought’a be careful with that girl,” Joel said finally as he waited for his drink. The kid lifted his head a bit, turning to face him. He raised a brow, looking Joel up and down before shrugging.

“What, you speak for her or somethin’?”

“Reckon nobody does,” Joel muttered. “Nobody can.”

He was wrong, but he didn’t really know he was wrong.

The kid had the audacity to stand up straighter, moving a little closer to Joel, glaring a bit.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what we do, man,” he warned. “So why don’t you fuck off before you really piss me off, yeah?”

Joel didn’t even flinch, turning his head to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw just enough to show his irritation.

“All I said was t’be careful with her. Rest is up to you,” Joel finished, taking his new drink off the counter and taking a long sip of it. The kid leaned forward a bit more, shaking his head.

“Listen, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what your problem is, but fuck off,” he said lowly. “I don’t know who she is to you, but she sure isn’t with you, so I’m gonna take her out back, have my fucking way with her, and you’re gonna leave us alone. Because if I see your fucking face again, I won’t hesitate.”

Joel just smirked a bit, shaking his head before taking another sip of his drink. The boy had no idea who she was; he was so new that he had yet to learn her name, and it would be a mistake he would never forget, a lesson he would remember forever. She was all sharp nails and teeth, camouflaged in figure-hugging jeans and a beautiful smile, and the boy would learn too late how volatile she really was.

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

As Joel made his way back to his old spot on the other end of the room, he passed right by her. She let her hand catch his arm, dragging along the length of it. Her fingers brushed through his, almost intertwining, before making her way to her seat. He followed her figure as she took a seat again, whispering in the boy’s ear, something that made the kid smile and nod his head to the door behind her. She slid off the stool, her hand in his as they both disappeared out the back. Her eyes found Joel’s, and all she did was lick her lips visibly before the door shut behind them.

She knew he would follow. She knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. She knew he would open the back door just a bit, just to watch her as she took the package from the boy towering over her. She pocketed it, staring up at him as she slipped the small package into her bra, a sultry smile on her face as he got close to her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, two hands gripping her waist and shoving her into the hard brick of the wall behind her. She made a small sound of protest, but Joel knew she was playing a part. It was too easy, the kid was too comfortable; besides, Joel couldn’t remember the last time a man other than himself got the upper hand on her.

She sucked in a warm breath when she felt his two hands grip her ass possessively, forcing her to spin around and slamming her face into the rough wall behind her. She felt the rubble cut her face a bit, but she wasn’t worried at all by the compromising position. She could see Joel, staring from the crack in the door, and as the kid’s hands wandered to the front of her jeans, the door was kicked open hard, smacking against the wall behind it as Joel dumped the beer still left in the bottle and smashed the glass against the back of the boy’s head.

She smiled a bit, turning around slowly. The bottle made a sickening crunch when it shattered against the back of the boy’s head; his knees buckled instinctively, and he clutched the opposite wall for balance as he tried to regain his focus. She leaned against the wall as she watched Joel pick up the kid by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the brick over and over and over again. One large hand fisted through his short hair, using it as leverage to bring his face down against the rough, cracked surface of the wall. The sounds were unforgiving; bone crunching, struggling and pained breaths, the clatter of teeth as they fell against the pavement, hurried and spit apologetic words for mercy.

She let her fingers drag down the back of her neck, over her chest, and she bit her lip hard to keep from letting out a satisfied whine as she watched this man lose all of his constraint, all of his control, all of his poise just for her.

Just for her. All for her. Anything for her.

She had never seen this look in his eyes. Joel was hovering over her, staring down at her as he took shallow, angry breaths, finally letting the broken beer bottle fall to the ground with a loud clunk. She took her bottom lip between her teeth again, her eyes falling over his face in the low light of the street. His features were lit only by moonlight, but it didn’t hide the depth of his disapproval. It took everything in her not to let out a sound as he raised a hand to put a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face up to his to bring her just that much closer.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” He asked. His voice was a rumbling, deep whisper, and if she was anyone else, it would’ve terrified her. Instead, she just met his eyes easily, wetting her lips and letting a little laugh slip out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Is this what you wanted?!”

She shrugged a bit, not cowering even a little under his hard glare. She seemed to enjoy it, too much for his liking.

“I mean…I’m not thrilled…” She sighed deeply, looking down where the body laid beneath their feet. “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find another contact.”

Joel gripped her face harshly, his large hand suffocating most of her face as he squished it hard, making her look at him.

“That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Not having a goddamn contact?” He scoffed. “You don’t wanna talk about how you fucking let this boy put his hands on you? And that you didn’t do a damn thing about it?”

She shrugged again.

“You were here,” she said easily. “I knew you’d take care of it. You always do.”

Take care of it.

She knew Joel would not be able to help himself. She knew he would lose his temper just at the thought, and she knew what he might do when he saw it with his own eyes. She let it happen; she enjoyed it.

“You knew I’d kill the fucking kid—” Joel pressed his forehead to hers, unsure whether he should kill her, too, or kiss her. “—you knew what I might do. That’s why you did it.” He smoothed his hand up her face, across her cheek, into her hair. She let out a soft whine as he tugged harshly on it, his fingers tangled between the strands. “You don’t even fucking care.”

She shook her head, agreeing with him. It was true. She didn’t care. The boy was nobody, not to her. He didn’t matter. He was blood and flesh and uselessness, and nothing about him mattered. If anything, he would do more good fertilizing the dirt beneath him.

That’s what he was to her. That’s what everyone was to her, except for Joel. They were beneath her; blips on the same timeline as her, molded skin and pulp and bone and thoughts that would never mean anything. They either served her a use, or they were simply disposable.

“You’re right, I don’t care,” she echoed. “He’s nothing, Joel.”

Joel swallowed hard, pulling back to look at her. She stared up at him just the same. He dragged a thumb over her wet bottom lip, tracing the skin there. He shook his head slightly, his face almost saddening at the sight of her. She was too pretty for the twisted thoughts inside of her head. She was too beautiful to think so little of others, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her. The possessiveness, the need, it fed the demons that lived in him, and he could feel them growing. She was no good for him; in fact, she would probably be the death of him, but he liked the feelings that scorched his insides when he did things for her.

Dirtying hands, wringing necks, forcing broken glass into soft flesh—doing it with purpose had only made the violence easier. This was not romance, it was evil, pure death and smoke and malice that would fester the longer Joel stayed by her side. Everyone thought it was Joel blackening her insides. They had no idea how torn apart she was from the inside out, and how her pretty features only made the vicious woman inside of her that much easier to ignore.

If they could see what swirled in her eyes now, they would hide in their brick houses. If they knew the kind of blood she had on her hands, they would never make the mistake of crossing her again. If they knew how easily she decided life and death, they would probably hang her.

“You killed that girl,” Joel accused her lowly. “Didn’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, parting her lips and letting out a soft breath.

“What girl?”

She grunted as Joel yanked at her hair, pulling at it hard enough to make her head throb.

“Don’t play games with me,” he commanded. “I know it was you.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Joel,” she cooed, smiling up at him. “You know me. A lot of girls cross me. A lot of girls try and take what’s mine. It’s not my fault they have no idea what’s coming.”

It’s not my fault they don’t understand how far I’ll go just to prove a fucking point.

She spat out the last sentence, gritting her teeth as her eyes darkened. He pursed his lips, letting go of her only to nod down the alleyway.

He was motioning for her to start moving, and she did so without protest. She could feel his eyes boring a hole into her back, and every so often, she made sure to shake her hair out a bit and let her hips move with her slow steps. It was dark, and she had to keep to the shadows, and when the sound of a truck passing forced them to hide, she made sure to press her back to the front of him as they both used the backside of the building they were passing through as cover. He let out a sound of disapproval, but his hand still came up to hold her waist, and there was no mistaking the feeling of him against her.

Joel might’ve been a steel wall of hardened resolve, but he had his weaknesses. He was still a man, after all.

And God, what a man he was. As soon as the apartment door shut behind her, he was on her. Filthy, bloodied hands in her hair, lips biting into hers, knee shoving her legs apart as she used the wall to balance herself. She let her eyes flutter shut, savoring the taste of beer and warmth and maybe stale cigarettes. He tasted good, just like he always did, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she sunk her weight down onto his thigh, dragging her hips in eager grinds. The friction of the denim of her jeans against his felt too good, and she let her voice spill satisfied whines and gasps into his ear whenever their lips parted.

“Can’t fucking believe you—” Joel muttered between kisses. “—there’s something so fucking wrong with you—” She slipped her tongue into his mouth, covering his lips with hers, giving him nothing but sloppy, wet kisses that was making it hard for him to breathe. She put both hands on his chest finally, pushing him back and off of her, staring up at him with a little smile as she forced him to walk backwards until his knees hit the back of the couch. She rested both hands on either side of him as she dropped herself into his lap. “You’re not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying—”

She kissed him again, swallowing his words, letting them die on his tongue as she guided both of his hands to grab both sides of her ass and squeeze. She moaned into his mouth, letting her senses be consumed by him.

The touch of him, his touch on her, leaving nothing but hot, wet skin in their wake. The way he smelled, a bit like fire, maybe blood, something so him and so dark and so utterly good that her mouth was watering. The taste of him, so bitter and tangy. The sound of his gruff voice, groaning and grunting and whispering filthy words as she dragged her hips just how he liked. And fuck, the sight of him—brown eyes blown wide with desire, the filth and grime of today’s work enveloping her as his arms covered her in their security. He was a man too overwhelming to take in all at once, but she was trying, and it was killing her.

How could he not see that she was the only one that could handle him? How could he not see that there wasn’t another woman in this entire fucked-up world that could understand him the way she could?

How can he not understand that he’s mine?

She pulled away from his kiss reluctantly, but her lips found the edge of his jaw. She lapped at the skin under it, dragging her touch up to just under his ear, just where he liked. She found the hollow with her tongue, the place that made him hiss and grit his teeth and buck his hips up into hers, and she delved into the space there with as much fervor as her swollen lips allowed. She pulled a harsh groan from him, his hands slipping up her waist, her top coming with it to reveal her bare skin underneath. She let him lift the fabric over her head and toss it aside, and she adjusted the bra she wore, letting his eyes wander low and admire the sight.

“You’re gawking,” she panted, putting a hand to his chest. She tilted her head to the side, bringing her other hand up and running her fingers along the edge of the dark material, his eyes following eagerly. She leaned in, to talk into the skin of his cheek. “You can touch, Joel. You can rip it off of me…you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours…” She sat up in his lap, and he mouthed at the skin of her breasts spilling out of her bra, wet kisses that were making her realize she was soaking through her jeans now. “You can take whatever you want from me, Joel. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was true. She never wanted him to ask. Sometimes, she would stare at him from across a room and wish that he could saunter over and just take her against the wall she leaned against. She wished he would bend her over her kitchen table and not give her any warning before burying himself so deep, she felt him in her guts. She prayed that he would wake her up with a hand on her throat, his teeth against her ear, and his hips drilling into hers as his way of fucking a good morning into her.

I wish he would see that everything I am belongs to him, and that all I want is for him to just take and take and take from me.

She fiddled with her belt as Joel took care of her bra, tossing it aside. She liked how he paid such attention to her bare skin, how he kissed and sucked and breathed against the precious parts of her now exposed for him to taste. He lifted her hips to slide her jeans off, nearly ripping her panties as she tried to take those off just as eagerly. She was completely bare, naked in his lap, but she made no move to undress him.

There was something so enticing in the air. Joel, fully clothed and letting his hands wander and squeeze and grope and touch her everywhere, while all she could do was whine and tug on his curls and lick over his lips—it created a power dynamic that had her leaking onto his jeans, darkening the denim until he hissed, feeling the damp fabric against his skin. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hotly, begging him with soft words not to move away from her, to hold her tighter, to fuck her silly.

She gripped his shoulders tight, starting to pant with need as she rocked her hips into him with more force. He had barely ghosted a few fingers over her, but she was eager to come, in any way he would let her, and as he sat back with a smug look on his face, she realized he wanted her to ride him just like this, to get herself off pathetically fast without even seeing any part of him naked. She felt the denim smooth against her pulsing clit, and it only drove her hips faster against his, her face dropping to rest in the crook of his neck as she chased what she could only hope was her first high of the night.

Soft, wet, palpitating, every part of her aching with need, he could feel it. As she found her breath again, just after wetting his lap with her bliss, he had shoved two fingers deep into her, thick digits spreading her open and making her whine with overstimulation. He fit his thumb over her clit, watching her jaw go slack as she let her hips chase his hand. She was just reacting, her body absentmindedly following his every move, responding to him as he knew she would, and it was raw and wretched and pulling at every part of her.

But it was an act. It was a show. She was just pretending. Even though it looked every bit like she was just the submissive, pathetic, whining, pretty girl Joel was fucking at the moment, she knew that she had this man wound so tightly around her finger. Although he spoke the filthiest words and was making her wet his hand with need, he was hers to do with in any way she wanted. All she had to do was bat her lashes, kiss him soft, and beg, and he would give her whatever she asked for.

Whatever I want, whatever I need, whatever it is that my little heart desires—he will do it for me. And it won’t matter who has to die or who he has to hurt or who he has to step over to get it.

As much as it seemed Joel overpowered her, she was the one who painted the picture. Whispering in his ear, guiding his hands, telling him what he needed to hear. He could growl in her ear all he liked, but it never convinced her otherwise. She knew this was true; even despite what he knew about her, even despite all the lies she told, he was still here. He was kissing her, pumping his fingers inside of her and drawing soft moans from her, and she knew he would give into her like he always did.

Joel could pretend he was done with her as much as he liked; but he would come back for her eventually.

“Please—” She begged, throwing her hips down against his hand, feeling full but not full enough. “Please, Joel…I need more…”

“Now you’re begging?” He scoffed, sucking roughly on the edge of her jaw. “Now you wanna listen to me? Is that it, sweetheart?” She nodded in response, whining, pawing at his shoulders to get herself even closer, melt into him if it was possible. “Maybe you don’t deserve it.”

“Joel—!” She gasped, shaking her head. “I-I do…I do!” She brought his lips back to hers, breathing in his groans as she let her hands wander between their bodies, her hands finding the outline of him and squeezing eagerly. “I do deserve it…”

If it was possible, his eyes darkened, a black hue of anger and lust that made her heartbeat pick up faster. He tilted his head to the side, leaning close, his lips kissing just under her ear, mouthing there as he curled his fingers and shoved his fingers so deep, she stifled a scream. His other hand tangled into her hair, gripping her tight, making sure she understood that she was at his mercy, and not her own.

“Listen here—” He tugged on her hair until her eyes met his, and she let out a gentle sob of need. “Look at me—there you go, give me those eyes—” He put her forehead to his, and she spread her palms against his chest, feeling the warmth and broad expanse of him. “If you think for one second that you deserve more, you’ve got it all wrong.” He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I know what you did. I know that it was you.”

She arched her back, pressing her bare chest to his own, his flannel feeling so soft against her hot skin. She tried to grind her hips, but his other hand dropped from the back of her neck to her waist, keeping her still.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snapped. “You’re not sorry.”

She let out a shaky breath, shaking her head.

“I’m not sorry for doing it,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for making you upset.” She cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly, using her weight to push him back against the couch. As they kissed, she felt his grip loosen just enough, and she moved her hips again. His fingers flexed inside of her, his thumb finding her clit and making her moan softly with relief. “I’m sorry for making a mess, Joel. I’m sorry for making you mad…” She moved her hips a bit faster, riding his fingers as her apology, giving him the moans he wanted to hear and drenching his lap to show him how sorry she really was. “I-I’m sorry for letting him touch me…”

“Fuck—” He kissed her back eagerly, trying to find serenity here. It was impossible with her. She was all heat and fire, all bite and sharp edges. There was no calm with her, no peace. Chaos followed her, and sex was a vice that she used with fervor. She didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t running. She had no idea what life was like without risk, without blood, without the good, bad things that had her on an adrenaline high constantly. If she came down, if she stilled for even a second, Joel feared what might be left of her. He feared he might not recognize her. He feared that without her pretty face painted with that sick, sweet smile, he might not like who remained.

Reluctantly, she pried his hand from between her legs. She slipped dirty fingers between her lips, licking her arousal off his calloused hand. She kept her eyes on his as she ran her tongue over his knuckles. They were bruised, split probably from wrenching answers from some poor soul or perhaps the boy he had pried off of her, and she soothed the bite of his wounds with wet kisses and her soft tongue. She let his hand go, letting her own slip between their bodies and work on his confining belt.

“Now you listen, Joel,” she murmured, undoing the buckle, listening to the metal clink as she loosened the denim around his waist. “If I ever find out about anyone else touching you, I won’t hesitate to do it again—” She cupped him roughly, drawing a grunt from him, and she smiled darkly. “You can’t hide anything from me. And you’re stupid if you think you can—” She swiped a thumb over the tip of him, spreading the slight dampness there over him. “—and I’ll kill every woman in this God-awful place just to prove my point.”

She kissed him, letting her tongue find his. She lowered herself in his lap, the heaviness of him in her hand making her feel even warmer inside. She let go of him, putting both hands on his shoulders as she sat down on him, feeling him slip between her folds. She grinded down against him, smoothing her slick over him and watching his face twist with need and want and rising anger at her words.

She gripped his jaw roughly, gritting her teeth.

“You’re mine, Joel—” She put her thumb to his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open. She gathered wetness in her mouth, leaning forward and spitting right onto his tongue. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as he swallowed the spit she gave him easily. It tasted like her, like the cunt he adored too much, and if he wasn’t so embarrassingly hard between her folds, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to put his face between her thighs. She was such a filthy, sweet, delectable woman for him, and it twisted his insides in terrifyingly good ways. “—and I’ll kill you, too, if you don’t stop testing my fucking patience.”

This was what really drove her crazy. They were fabric cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. Instead of soothing the fires inside of her, he set them ablaze. The kiss they shared was all teeth, all bite, all rough breaths and filthy curses. They were both fighting for control over each other.

He pressed her into the couch, her back against the worn cushions. He gripped her hard, one hand on the back of her neck and the other gripping the outside of her thigh, her legs wrapped around his waist as he finally sunk into her with no warning. She let out a gentle cry of relief, enveloping him and squeezing around him as he buried himself until his hips were pressed to hers, his mouth at her jaw as he gave her no time to adjust. The feeling of him filling her to the brim, stretching her in every good way, would never be enough. She needed more, needed him inside of her, tangled around her, filling all her senses until it was all she knew.

“Can’t even call you a good girl—” Joel grunted, beginning a grueling pace as he fucked her into the couch, not letting up for even a moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back, trying to meet his thrusts with equal power, but it wasn’t fair. Joel was too hard, too rough, too overpowering, and she was failing as she tried to keep up with him. “Cause you’re not—you’re not a fucking good girl—”

She mewled, pressing her lips to his, trying to drink in his words and taste them and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. She arched her back more, pressing herself tight against him, and she moaned as he mouthed at her breasts, sucking the skin there and leaving soft bruises as he dragged his teeth against her.

“You’re always up to no good,” he kept growling. She panted, dropping her head back a bit as he kept up his pace. His hips were hitting her hard, punctuated by his words, and she closed her eyes to savor the stretch, the roughness, the perfection of his cock molding her insides to his. The squelch of skin on skin was so lewd, but it only made her wetter. “Always gettin’ into trouble…my pretty girl—”

My. Mine. She’s mine.

She was sin in one woman. She was the personification of every horrid, murderous thought Joel had ever had. She was the embodiment of his nightmares, the devil in disguise, the incarnation of the scars on his heart and the blood under his fingernails and the notches on his belt and the tick, tick, tick of the timer on his inner clock, the one he knew would break when he went just too far. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. Maybe that was why every part of her made him hot and bothered and needy. Maybe that was why Joel could not stay away from her.

Maybe that was why no matter what atrocity she committed, he never saw her as anything but his, and his only. He never saw her as tainted. Or evil. Or impure. She was just his, and that was enough.

That was perfect.

Perfection.

That was what her cunt had to be. It was perfection. Joel would drown in it if she wanted him to, if she allowed him to. He thought, selfishly, that relinquishing breath just for one more taste of her would be a kinder death than the one that probably waited for him. He thought about this as he nudged her head back onto the arm of the couch, going for the warm skin of her neck, biting it, kissing it. He wanted to bruise her and mark her, so darkly that she would find them in the mirror days from now and think of him.

He didn’t stop her as she threw her arms around his neck and brought their lips back together. She was whispering softly between kisses and whines, rocking her hips against his with just as much force. They were sloppy together. He had both hands on her hips, manhandling her taut flesh as he drove her body back to his again and again and again. She was so wet, dripping between them, a weeping cry from her own body that told him she needed him so badly, she would do anything to have him.

“Oh, now you’re quiet, honey?” He muttered in her ear, reaching up and putting his hand around her neck again. She sputtered as he sat back on his heels, yanking her with him, holding her up in his lap as he brought her body down on him over and over again. He looked up at her, at the pretty bounce of her on top of him, limp to his touch and crying for him. “Look at you—” he groaned, feeling the walls of her clench and squeeze and suck him in, telling him all too well how much she liked this, “—can’t even fucking speak—ugh—” he kissed her hard, “—have I fucked the brat out of you yet?”

“Joel—please—” she begged, letting out a soft sob of relief as his thrusts got shallower, faster. “O-Oh…” She put her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, feeling the scratch of his beard rough against her palms. She met his eyes, could see the shine and the darkness of them, and she leaned forward to kiss him softly. Despite the grueling pace Joel had set, despite the bruising smack of his hips against hers, her kiss was delicate and sweet, taking his breath away. She was too good at that, at making him feel. “Joel…” She sniffled, tears coming down her face at how good he felt. “Joel, I need you…”

She was so pretty. It was all he could think about. He caged over her again against the cushions, this time with his lips against hers and his body towering over her, the warmth of him and space of him enveloping her. He wasn’t fucking her anymore, this was something else. He hiked her legs around his hips, grinding deep, his pace slow but his thrusts just as heavy. She needed him. Just a few words, spoken through her lips, and Joel was soft. Petting her tangled hair, kissing her warmly, pressing his cock deep into her and staying there for just a few moments before pulling out slightly and doing it all over again. He drew long, relaxed moans from her, and he breathed deeply as he thought about how much her cunt felt like heaven.

He didn’t know how it was possible. She was not an angel, anything but; everything she touched blackened to its core. But he couldn’t think of another word to call her, to call this. He only felt this searing pleasure in his dreams.

And buried between her legs.

“I-I love you, Joel,” she purred, arching her back. Her chest pressed to his, and he couldn’t help but dip his head and lick the sheen of sweet that had gathered between her breasts. Salty, dirty, entirely her, and he dipped his head again to suck her breast into his mouth and smooth his tongue over her nipple. She cradled his head to her chest, panting now, her thighs shaking a bit as she met his eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, a haze in them that was cloudy and drunk with bliss. There was lust, more than anything else. If there was love there, Joel had no idea; he had never seen what loved looked like in her eyes.

He didn’t think it was possible for her to love anything. And perhaps it wasn’t. She thought it was love. To her, nothing else could explain how she behaved around him. The obsession with him, the possessiveness that overcame her, the protectiveness she felt whenever he came home with new wounds that would scar, the revenge she sought when anyone touched him. She didn’t care whether those touches were warm or kind. He was hers, and she would make them sorry for putting their hands on him.

She tugged his face back to her, feeling that coil in her belly tighten and tighten. She put her forehead to his, licking over his bottom lip before kissing him hard. One hand slid to press between his shoulder blades, the other pushed against his lower back, a silent gesture to get him as close to her as possible.

His breaths became more broken and shallower. She arched her back into him, pebbled nipples poking him as he snaked an arm under her and used this new position as leverage to fuck up into her at a quicker, more aggressive pace. He punched into her again and again, quickening with every breath as he chased the mind-numbing feeling that was growing in him. She squeezed him, her entire body trembling slightly as she tried to take every thrust, but they were both losing to each other, in the feeling of one another. She gripped his biceps now, her nails digging in hard enough to elicit a harsh hiss from him. She could feel blood, but it didn’t faze her—she wanted to mark him, scar him, until no other woman could have him like this.

If another woman held him there, they’d feel her hands, where her nails dug into him, and they’d know they were preying on another woman’s territory—one they would not live to speak of. She thought of this as he fucked her into a pleasure-drunk headspace, her high blinding her. She didn’t even register the scream that left her until Joel was kissing her quiet, swallowing the sounds, drinking in the cries of her ecstasy and tasting her mewls. It was like her cunt was taunting him, begging him, scolding him for not coming just yet—it took only another whimper of his name for him to collapse on top of her in a fit of groans.

She thought she might have come again when he did, it felt so good. Her thighs shook, her body molding to his as she felt him sinking deeper into her, so snug, his spent trapped in her as they both refused to move away from each other. When he tried to move off of her, she kissed him, making a soft sound of protest and keeping him close.

“Don’t go—” she gasped, slipping one hand low and gripping the back of his thigh, coaxing him to slide deep again and settle there. “Fuck—” She craned her neck to bury her face into the side of his, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. She chased the closeness of him, the muskiness that the air around him held. She never wanted to leave this place. She wanted to stay here forever, Joel cock-deep inside of her, and she wanted him to keep her here and never let her leave. She wanted him to chain her ankles to this place and force her to stay, naked and waiting. She wanted him to use her, to never let her go, to be selfish and mean and merciless with her until she was nothing but his, his, his.

She wanted to forget her name. She wanted to lose her memories of the outside world and confine them to these four walls. She wanted to kill the sad things inside of her and focus only on the pleasure and the love and the unforgiving warmth that settled inside of her whenever she was underneath him like this.

She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh and bite it, sustain herself only on Joel and whatever he would feed her. Because she knew she was dying inside, and only this feeling could save her.

She could not explain why she felt nothing inside when she did the things she did. She was not sorry for anything. She felt no regret or shame or sorrow. She didn’t think she could’ve done things differently or spoken softer or spared any more lives. The only time she felt even remotely human was like this—with Joel connected to her in the most intimate way possible. Then, for a few moments, she felt warm in her chest. She felt vulnerable. She felt new—as if she had been born again and was learning the differences between happy and sad, angry and alone, deep love and utter hatred. She felt all of those things with him and nowhere else, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep him here, with her, always.

There was no one she wouldn’t kill for him. No one she wouldn’t torture, no one she wouldn’t crush under her booted toes. In fact, she would take pleasure in it. She would seek out the feeling. Just like she did with the pretty girls that put their hands on him. Just like she would again.

Because she knew it would happen again. She didn’t know when or how or why, but she knew there would be more girls that would try and lure him in, more men that would try and cross him, but she would be ready for them. Because he was all hers.

They would learn quickly what that meant and the distance she would go to keep it that way.

She turned over, in bed now, laying on her back, her head settling against the pillow. He was turned to face her, their eyes meeting for just a moment before they went back to looking over each other. She reached over gently, her scarred knuckles meeting his cheek and running slowly down the skin there. Her eyes were soft, softer than he had ever seen before. She was looking over him, studying him in the light of the moon, letting herself commit the moment to memory. Something about it felt romantic; something about this made her feel something akin to emotion. She thought maybe this was why she cared too much for him.

He was the only man who had ever made her feel anything at all.

“So is this how it’s gonna be?” He asked lowly. His voice was gravelly and quiet, but it was still heavy with feeling. She met his eyes, her thumb circling over the apple of his cheek. “You don’t like how someone acts ‘round me, and you just…get rid of ‘em?”

She turned more, fully facing him, letting her thumb roam to trace the line of his nose.

“This isn’t…you,” he said finally, and this got a reaction from her. She laughed a bit, bitterly, shaking her head.

“Then you have no idea who I really am, Joel,” she murmured. She let her thumb fall to trace his upper lip gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone else. If you didn’t know that by now, then you haven’t really been paying attention.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, closing her eyes gently, breathing in the Joel that remained in the early hours of the morning.

“And I know that it’s you, too.”

“Wasn’t always me,” he muttered. When she opened her eyes, she saw a flicker of something in the way he looked away from her. Guilt. Abandonment, maybe. It was the faraway of losing something he had tried to hold onto. “Whatever I am now…wasn’t always me.”

She shook her head, leaning her head to rest against his shoulder.

“If you think…the way the world is now to blame for who we are, you’re wrong, Joel,” she said softly. “I don’t remember what it was like. Before.” She put her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve always been like this. And so have you.” He moved his head to look at her, frowning, and she shrugged simply. “The before…all it did was hide you.”

Joel looked away, back to the ceiling. She was right. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, to believe that the end of the world was to blame for the man that he had become, the thought would be wrong. Inside of him had always been the man he was. The man that made the tough decisions. The man that killed someone before dinner and fucked the woman he loved later that same day. The man that bartered and tortured and murdered and crushed and fought like hell—this man was someone that had always lived inside of him—judge, jury, and executioner. There had just never been an opportunity for that man to come apart, to come alive, to manifest itself into the hungry, angry thing that clung to him now, the man that had never left him. Unlike her, the man he was had been dormant, hiding among the memories of his daughter and the life he once loved. She had always been this way; she never had a need to hide her ugly thoughts away, it was a person that had never left her. They thrived. They kept her alive.

A soft kiss to the side of his face made him blink the thoughts away. Another kiss brought him back to earth.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything.”

But now he believed her. In her own sick, twisted way, she did love him. In the horrid things that lived in her head, he was there, bubbly and bright and bathed in pretty lights. She was not good for him. She would turn him black and blue inside, she would take all the good that still rested in him, and she would bury it deep.

And selfishly, he wanted to do the same to her. So, “me…me, too, darlin’,” was what he said back to her. Because—fuck—if anyone was going to truly ruin her, it was going to be him.

He would make sure of that.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo

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pan-but-meh-pt2 · 1 year

Text

Hello~! I am taking the post I had from my old account and putting them here now! And what do ya know! It's spicy time! I will be starting off with dick head cannons... No one judge me lol. These will include the length, width, hair, just a general description (and maybe how good they can use it will be done later lol) NOW LET'S GET STARTED!

Warnings: Dick talk. Slightly accurate animal proportions for the beast men. Just SPICE!!!

Credits for art pieces below to rightful creator

Heartslabyul

Riddle

To start off ain't no way this boy has a big dick with all the love to him

I will say he has an average sized one, about 4 inches, 5 when hard

And it's also not that wide, but like not completely skinny either

In fact it's actually a bit thicker towards the base

I see people say this and I agree that his tip is a pretty shade of red, a little bigger than the cock but not as large as the base

Now as for hair, he is definitely well trimmed, there's just a tiny patch there that's the same red as his hair of course

Overall it's a pretty cute cock

Trey

Say it with me now. LONG AND THICK!!!

Well, ok, let's be honest, it's probably not that thick, but it's thicker than normal and you could feel it

This boy is def about e 7.5 or 8.5, no question, won't take complaints

His tip is a little bigger, but not much, and more pink then red, though it does go bright red when hard

Now the hair is well trimmed but still pretty there

Def pressing into your nose while you go down on him with your mouth

And he'd like it too lol

11/10 would look at again

Cater

Excuse me while I just slides over a card that says it's pierced

hm? I didn't say anything

But for real, I bet that boy has at least got a Prince Albert piercing right there, hitting that spot

A good 7 inches long

The width is actually pretty skinny, but that ain't a bad thing lol

Cause know what?

His tip makes up for it

Not even including the Prince Albert, his tip is pretty large, but not so large it's out at proportion

And his whole dick fades into a nice blushy pink, with the tip slightly darker cause why not!

And it is def curved up a bit so it REALLY hits

This boy has a TRAIL!!!!!!

He decorates it all nice and pretty, leaving that bit to tease his simps with (me, I am simps)

He doesn't even let it get out of control

Hot as hell and he knows it

Ace

I wanna be mean to him and day "itty bitty dick committee" but... He's slightly above average, let's admit it oops, still mean 😅

I'll be nice to him and says he's about and 5.5 in height and length smacked ALRIGHT I'LL STOP!

But yeah, like I said, slightly abovebaverage

The width is actually the thickest of the Heartslabyul boys, can stretch you pretty damn good

The tip is the same width, and a more blushy red then Riddle, but not as light as Cater's

Now his hair, uh....

It's a bit of a bush

NOT EVEN THE ATTRACTIVE WAY, LIKE A MESSY WAY

He remembers every about 2 or 3 monthsbto shave it down, and he doesn't even dobit that much

So, dick is pretty, shave down the bush and I would say a 10 outta 10

Deuce

Oh, this poor virgin boy Imao

HIS DICK IS SO PRETTY BUT SO UNUSED!!!!

Like you're saying a good 6 inches, slightly thick where it counts, and pretty beyond belief

His tip is another one that is slightly bigger than the rest, in the cutest shade of pink

His hair is also almost a clean shave, like a little trail

In total it is so FUCKING PRETTY AND I WANNA-bleeps

Ah thank you, 15/10 would recommend

Savanaclaw

Leona (animal leaning)

NOW PEOPLE KEEP SAYING HUGE DICK, AND I WANNA BELIEVE IT, BUT!!!!! BUT BUT BUT!!!!

Lion's dicks are tiny as all hell

(Don't ask why, just know I put myself through torture for entertainment)

So let's say for animal leaning he'd 3.5

HE'S HELLA THICK THO, SO HE'S GOT THAT FOR HIM!

Probably in the top 5 of thickest cocks

Gets thinner more towards the tip, but still thick

Tip is a nice pink shade, and it's only on the tip, everywhere else is the same color as his skin

Also, bumpy as hell, my lord

As little as there is it is covered in bumps and thick veins

BUSHIEST MOFO IN THE DAMN SCHOOL!!!

Like damn, take a razor to that shit, or at least trim it!!!!!

Literally Ruggie had to threaten to drag him to the bathroom and do it himself to get him to do it

(Still took to much effort to get him to do it though, my lord)

Overall, not bad, needs better maintenance though 😒

Leona (human leaning)

Just so y'all know, in future fics you will never know which type I am using, could be the more animal like or more human like lol, so good luck all you Leona simps on my page

Now, lemme just clears throat

LONG AND THICK!!!!

No matter which way, it is thick, but more human like is thick throughout, not skinner towards the tip

This man is like 8.5 inches, maybe 9, but for your sake, well say 8.5

As for the bumps they're not as bad and are now just veiny as hell

The tip is the same, along with the bush 😒

Again, big as hell, not bad to look at, LEARN TO USE A DAMN RAZOR!!!!

Ruggie

NOW THIS ONE IS THE SAME EITHER WAY!!!

Long. As. HELL!!!

Solid 7.5 hard inches on this man, no cap

SKINNY-!! Skinny, skinny, skinny! Still feels good, but don't hope for a stretch with him

In fact it could probably slide in easily!

That is.... If you can get past the tip 😈

Cause his tip is a good bit bigger than his dick!

And it has a fade to pink at the tip

Don't even get me started on the curve OOF!

I had a nice upwards curve so it really hits all the spots you want

Now for the hair...I'll admit, it's kinda bushy

NOT AS BAD AS LEONA, but probably a more tamed version of that

Also part of the trail gang (those are hella hot, convince me otherwise!)

Overall, very nice, and not bad to look at

Jack

Ok y'all, this one is hard to do animal accurate, because people are freaks and like animal dildos, but I'll try

OK, FIRST OFF, LENGTH! I'd give a solid 8 or 9!

It's actually paler then the rest of his body, with some parts a pink shade, his tip as well

Speaking of the tip, it's actually a bit smaller then the rest

Now for the width... Let's say when he's not hard it's slightly average in width, and when hard above average is the best way to describe it

It'll still feel good! So don't worry!

Now for hair I feel like he's between having almost as much as Leona or being like Ruggie and knowing how to trim it

Def more towards Ruggie, and def does it more often then those two!

But he just grows hair fast, he can't help it

A pretty good dick overall

Octavinelle

Azul

Another virgin bay with a hella cute dick!!

Now this one is more on the average side of length, slightly above, standing at 6 inches

It's actually pretty chubby/thick, specially at the center and base

A nice blushy pink throughout it Seriously, it's so pretty and cute, wtf, gimme a chance with it-COUGH COUGH, ANYWAY!

The tip is slightly darker than the rest but not by much, and is also the same size as the rest

Now for his hair-wait, I mean, what hair?

Yep, he's hairless down there! He shaves it down to the skin once it starts getting outta control ACE, LEONA, TAKE SOME DAMN NOTES!!!

He has a slight curve right and downwards, and it feels pretty good! (Specially doggy style AHEM AHEM)

Overall, 10/10, would recommend

Jade

AHEHEHEHEHE, OH BOY, THIS MAN!!!

Long, 9 inches, VEINY VEINY VEINY!!!!

Gets thicker towards the base, but still pretty damn skinny!

I don't think I said veiny, did I? Oh well, I'll do it again VEINY!!!!

He has a slight curve to the left cause reasons 😃

Now, let's talk hair

Not bad down there, like there's some, but it's not a bush

And I'mma say it hey, no, stop. I'mma say it-HE HAS A TRAIL!-knocked out

Ugh, what? Oh

So yeah, pretty damn good dick

Floyd

Well...they are twins...in every sense 😅😅😅

The hair is also worst down there

DICKS ARE NEAR IDENTICAL!!!

SAME LENGTH, SAME WIDTH, SAME TYPE OF TIP, IDENTICAL!!

Now here are the differences

Instead of the left Floyd's curves to the right (you'll have to guess why~)

For Floyd I would say he is the less clean down there version of Jade, he is way more scruffy and jacked up down there

So I'll say, if he cleans it up a bit, he's golden

Scarabia

Kalim

OH BOY, YALL BETTER BE READ FOR THE LEVEL OF SIMPING THESE TWO BRING OUT OF ME, LIKE DAMN!!!!! WHY THE WHOLE DORM GOTTA BE ATTRACTIVE!?!?!?!

Ahem, ahem anyway, onto the dicks!!!

.... Pierced, AHEM I MEAN WHAT?!?! But fr, he had a Jacobs ladder and a reverse prince albert, cause why the hell not 😅

Now, the length is more on the average side, standing at 5 inches

The width is pretty good!

Slightly above average but thicker towards the base

The tip is a vibrant red against his skin, as thick as the base, and just UGH, HE'S SO ATTRACTIVE!!!

Now the hair....meh, it's a bit of a bush, but more of a controlled bush

Overall, 10/10

Jamil

.... I am such a simp for these two 😂😂😂

ANYWAY, LET'S START OFF, HE'S 7 INCHES!!!

I feel like he'd be pretty damn veiny, with a very prominent one on the top of his dick

The width, more on the skinny side, but will still have a slight stretch for him

The tip!! His tip is more of a dark red, blending into his skin and fading halfway down

It's also the same width of the dick too

Now the hair is fairly tame down there!

...but he does have a trail and it's hot as HELL!!!!!!!

Ahem! Hey, don't hit me, I stopped-! knocked out again

Ugh, anyway, hella hot, 15/10, would recommend

Pomefiore

Vil

OK, LET'S START OFF WITH HE'S PART OF THE LONG GROUP, GODDAMN!!!

A good 8 inches, with subtle veins

His width is on the skinnier side like Jamil, but also like Jamil, will give you astretch!

Like himself, his dick is just so pretty!

Ugh, I hate this pretty boy

/jk I actually don't mind him

Ok, back on track with the tip

His tip is slightly bigger then the width, and a nice pink shade

Now for the hair, if you think he doesn't take care of his hair down there either, you'd be wrong!

Like Cater, he knows how to decorate it to be pretty for his simps, so there is a barely there trail for that reason

The area they can't see is more compact and well shaved

So, 20/10, pretty nice dick

Rook

This mofo-

Ahem I mean, onto Rook!

I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he's a 6.6, just above average

His width is the same, above average

He will be a stretch tho, but in a good way

He barely uses his dick tho, he mostly prefers using his fingers and tongue-

OFF TOPIC, THAT'S FOR ANOTHER DAY, BACK ON TRACK

The tip, is muah! bigger than the width and it just feels so good!

Now the hair It's almost like Vil's, because he is such a big fan

So, he has a slight trail, but it is more prominent than Vil's

But it's also a bit of a bush

Like a clean one, ya know?

So pretty nice to look at at least!

Epel

SWEET VIRGIN BOY WITH A CUTE DICK SQUAD!!!!

Seriously, like it's a bit on the small side, like about 4-5 inches, but still nice!

A bit chubby towards the base tho, but again! Still nice!

His whole dick is a nice pink throughout, and a darker pink on the tip

And speaking of the tip, it's about as thick as the base is

Now for the hair... Oh boy

Vil would have a heart attack if he knew about it (thankfully he has enough decency to not go that far)

It's a bush, and not in a good way

Like yeah, he trims it every once in a while, but his hair grows fast!

But overall, and hella nice dick!

Ignihyde

Idia

OH BOY THIS ONE!!!

One word: messy

HE'S HELLA LONG, ABOUT 8-9 INCHES!

PRETTY THICK, LIKE ABOVE AVERAGE!

THE TIP IS GOOD TOO, A PINK FADE TO IT

BUT THE HAIR!!!

This boy is worse then Leona

Even the lion dorm leader would cringe

I'm not even sure if he could chop it off cause the hair down there is also fire! Like can he cut his hair?! How would it work?!!

But anyway, yeah 😅😅😅

So it's ok, but damn!

Ortho

ERROR, ERROR, SYSTEM NOT FOUND

Loading next file...

... File loaded

Diasomnia

Malleus

Sebek, down boy, NO SEBEK DOWN!

...Anyway, ahem, Malleus-San

LONGEST BOY HERE, MY LORD!!!

10-11 inches, no cap

The thickness of it, not so much

I will say he is above average-SEBEK, WHAT DID I SAY, DOWN BOY!!

The tip is the same width and same skin color, no pink or red to it

Hair is the next one, and DAMN

He has a bit of a bush, but like it's not out of hands

So overall...Pray for yourself 😬

Lilia

Aha, ahahaha, aha, THIS MAN!!!

He ain't small!!!! I know I made the other shorties have dicks on the smaller side, but not him!!!!

He is a solid 8-9 inches!!!!!

Why, cause I said so, that's why

He's able to change the way it looks and he uses it

Relatively thick, but in an above average way

The tip is thicker then the base and also a dark red shade

The hair is surprisingly tame down there, I will say

So overall, pretty good!

Silver

IF Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS DOWN BAD FOR SCARABIA, Y'ALL AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET!!!

HE'S SO HANDSOME, AND FOR WHAT?

Ahem, anyway, onto the dick

A good 7 inches, slightly veiny too

(I'll just drop this rq-somnophillia)

HIS WIDTH IS ABOVE AVERAGE, BUT A NICE STRETCH

The tip is fading into a nice blushy pink shade halfway down

His hair is well trimmed...But this one is simply cause I'm a simp for him, he has a trail!

20/10

Sebek

...I like bullying him 😅😅😅

I'LL BE NICE TO HIM FOR THIS ONE THO

So, a solid 7-8 inches on this boy

Also part of the thick squad, kinda like an hourglass style?

Skinnier at the center and thicker everywhere else

The tip is slightly larger than the base and a violent shade of red only on the tip

He has a bit of a bush, and this one is just a fact, he also has a trail

So, enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed these head cannons! Inbox is open and you are free to ask or request any of the ones listed in my dash! Enjoy the moment! 🥰

#twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #dick headcannon #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #twisted wonderland #-Nerd signing off

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