#surely it can’t be worse than that non-con right? right??????

[chlorinecake]

“convenient chances” 🎱

summary: Your obsessive ex-boyfriend Jay Park goes to extreme measures to ensure that you submit to his ruthless control, and with your body weakening with each pitiful day that passes, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to put up a fight…

pairing: Stalker! Yandere! Enhypen x Fem! Reader

contains: Suggestive, Non-con Kissing and Touching, Degrading Nicknames (crybaby, play thing, etc), Mentions of Self-harm and Other Violent Themes, Heavy Angst

word count: 5.3k -> previously . . .

YOUR BODY WAS fully awake, but your mind needed a moment to catch up.

The feeling of moist soil on your scalp somehow helped to comfort your body’s soreness as you laid down in the shallow ditch of dirt which was inevitably dubbed as your bed last night…

You could hardly push past the pain in your tired eyes, having cried yourself to sleep and back awake more times than you could count while meddling about with only one emotion coursing through your starved out veins:

Despair.

Not in the sense that you were ready to forfeit your role in this one against seven battle, but you worried your body could only take so much more of their combined insanity before giving up…

Just to let Jay claim you as his noble prize in this one-sided race for a twisted love—

Pat, pat, pat.

Your ears keened in on the sounds of nature surrounding you, eyes lazily opening up again as sprinkles of dry earth kissed your forehead, followed by more pats from above.

But the pats came with friends, the sounds now becoming more layered, louder as they approached the rim of the steep hole.

It was them.

The six goons, excluding their crookedly righteous leader who to this day leaves you baffled as to why you even dated him in the first place.

If only he wasn’t so good at pretending…

Pretending like everything was normal and that your past relationship with him was somehow reconcilable.

Your vision was still a bit cloudy given the poor lighting provided by the hardly risen sun and surrounding forestry, however you could still make out each boy's face as they stared back down at you. Jake, the nicer one, slowly guided a rope down to meet you.

“Can’t imagine you got much sleep down there, did ya’ cutie?” Heeseung’s voice started, stinging your soul like venom as he cooed at you with pouty lips from above, “don’t worry, I’ll give you a good morning kiss once we get you outta there…”

What a raging creep.

“This isn’t gonna be easy, but the only way to get you back up here is if you climb…”

Wow. He almost sounded like he cared about you when he said that.

Almost...

“C’mon, we threw you in a ditch, not a fucking volcano,” the tallest one grumbled impatiently, annoyed by your seemingly feeble demeanor.

“Niki,” Sunghoon scolded sternly, the younger boy shrugging in defense, “don't encourage her to resist us, alright?”

Jay must've been too busy to come and get you himself today, given all the work obligations and tasks he had lined up for the week.

So unfortunately, as if your luck could get any worse, you'd have to deal with his violent clan of minions until he got back.

Jake gave the rope a little shake to draw your attention back to it, your eyes having wandered off for a second in thought.

These boys were capable of the darkest evil's, but you knew it'd be better to comply than give 'em a hard time right now.

“Atta girl,” Jake smiled, watching as you stood up on wobbly legs before making your way to the dangling rope, “take your time coming up...”

Someway, somehow, you managed to climb up the rope, despite the dizziness clouding your mind on the way there.

Jungwon greeted you with a half-friendly expression, pulling you out of the ditch the rest of the way with a strong hand.

You honestly struggled a bit to stand up properly on your own, given how long your legs had been idle for, so Heeseung took it upon himself to carry you.

All the way to the nearby van, whose black exterior sent chills down your spine, despite how inviting the morning sunrise looked while casting upon it.

“Look at you,” Heeseung cooed, eyes scanning the fresh scar tracing the back of your hand as you clung to his shoulder for support, “so vulnerable and fragile...”

He took your hand and pressed a kiss to the flesh there, but you couldn't be bothered to pull away from him, thinking in your mind that you had to seem submissive.

You had to escape.

And tricking them seemed to be one of the few options you had left, especially with Mandy out of the picture.

Yes, you felt weak, but nowhere near as much as you were gonna pretend to be.

You were always a fighter, and you didn't plan to give up just yet, no matter how many times you'd have to get up just to fall back down again.

Sunoo held the car door open for Heeseung to help you get in, the rest of the boys already loading themselves into the vehicle at either side.

The sound of dirt stalling the trucks tires filled your ears before Sunghoon slammed his foot on the gas, forcing the car out of its mossy patch.

The trail back up was rocky, which made Niki reach an arm over to keep you in place as you kept wobbling in your seat.

You knew it wasn't because he actually cared for your safety, especially not with the bitter look plastered over his features.

“Since when did you get employed as a human seatbelt?” Jungwon asked with furrowed eyes, confused by Niki's behavior.

“Just trying to keep Jay's play thing safe,” he smiled facetiously, just as his eyes turned up to a tear in the roof, or more accurately, an empty slot where a seatbelt once was… “since you overgrown fuck-nuts like horsing around in here...”

BY NOW, THE car drive was nearing its end, human civilization barely coming into view through the dark tinted windows.

Sunghoon's eyes were trained on the road ahead as he started to speak, “So... we don't have many options for breakfast, but given how hungry you are, I'm sure you won't be picky...”

He pulled into the drive-thru of a nearby fast-food restaurant, the scent of deep-fried breakfast foods infiltrating the cold air behind the truck windows.

Meanwhile, your mind was stuck on Niki's mentioning of the broken seatbelt earlier, simply because no seatbelt meant no restraints, and ultimately, nothing was holding you back.

Truly, what you were plotting to do next was quite obviously a very bad idea... but, with the little strength you had left, you decided to push through anyways.

Literally.

Slam.

You pushed passed Niki and slung open the car door, slamming it behind you just as Niki’s hand barely grazed your arm, cursing to himself as you took off into the morning fog.

Thud, thud, thud.

Your sneaker-clad feet hit the pavement with harsh steps as you ran off into the opposite direction of the boys, treading as far as your dry bones could take you.

With your heart pounding like a drum in your chest and your eyes glued straight ahead, you knew looking back would only slow you down.

That’s when you noticed the parking lot was completely empty, which meant that no bystanders were present once Heeseung’s long legs eventually caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to halt your tracks, right before leaving a slap clean across your face.

You fell to the ground, scuffing your elbow in the collision with a now busted-lip complimenting your dark under eyes.

“Pretty energetic to say you’re running on an empty stomach, aren't you, baby face?” He pressed with aggression, taking your jaw in his fierce grip to make you look up at him, “What? Too scared to talk now that I’m being rough with you?”

All you did was wince at his words, the adrenaline boiling in your chest only increasing with fear as the rest of the goof-troop approached the scene.

“Aww… you scared her into silence,” Sunghoon pouted while kneeling down to meet where you sat, “what’re we gonna tell Jay about her sudden case of muteness, Heeseung?”

“Hmm... I can think of plenty ways to force some pretty sounds out of that mouth of hers,” the eldest grinned, releasing your chin only to grip your hair this time, pulling you back with force.

“Ahckk,” you groaned in pain, gripping his arm in an attempt to keep your sounds in, but he was already snickering at you, noticing the rosy red bruise raising to your skin from how hard he slapped you earlier.

“Oh?” he cooed, tilting his head as he spoke… “I didn’t mean to hurt you, ____,” he whispered sarcastically before his lips met the sore part of your face...

“Let me make it feel better.”

Heeseung's lips moved lower down your neck as his grip on you only tightened, his rough teeth grazing the surface of your skin before pinching down on it, all while the most satisfying smirk stained his features.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, a voice in your head reminded as your brain returned to reality, brushing off the wild scenario you'd just came up with.

“That’ll be it, thank you,” Jungwon said to the lady over the drive-thru speaker as Sunghoon pulled up to the next window.

“What’s on your mind?” Niki asked, noticing the way you became quiet all of a sudden, your previously shaky breaths settling to a near inaudible decibel.

“N-nothing… just a little tired I guess,” you stuttered, not meeting his nightmare-like eyes to which only made him hum in response.

“Welp, I hope you like coffee, because Jay has something special planned for you two later, and you wouldn’t wanna show up all drowsy like this...”

You had known Jay long enough by now to know that something special was code for a disaster in the making—

“____ loves coffee,” Sunoo blurted out in a nonchalant tone, “I used to buy her five cans every weekday from the convenience store to keep her stocked for the whole work week...”

Until I switched to banana milk, you thought to yourself, a tiny smile rising to your features at the wholesome memory.

Sunoo’s gentle voice trailed off as he hung his head low, the boys looking at him in confusion at his sudden comment.

You sulked quietly; Sunoo had became so cold towards you since the day you scolded him after he betrayed your friendship for Jay... so much had happened since then that you almost forgot how close you and Sunoo used to be before all this…

“God, I don’t know why I even said that,” he cursed himself with a sigh, looking out the window to avoid their judgmental looks.

“It’s uh… it’s fine buddy, just… pass me us a twenty please,” Heeseung continued, Sunoo pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to Jake to pay for the food.

“Have a good day,” the cashier said with a forcefully chipper voice, Sunghoon already driving off as her final words were cut off by the sound of the truck engine.

He took another short path that led to a gas station nearby, letting Jungwon, Sunoo, Niki, and himself take you inside the corner-store to eat while the rest stayed back to pump gas and shit-talk.

The shop resembled one you might see in an apocalyptic video game, the food-stained tables and flickering ceiling lights only adding to the unsettling aura.

That's when the wall-mounted TV, just a few inches beside the glass entry doors, broadcasted a live news report featuring a woman by the name of Mandy Reeves.

You felt part of your soul descend at the mere mentioning of her name as the scratchy-voiced newswoman began to report from the speakers...

“62 year old Goldman's 24-Hour Convenience Store worker Mandy Reeves was reportedly found tied up with a rope and non-responsive in the establishment’s storage room around midnight. While Ms. Reeves is in better condition now, authorities have concluded that this attack was from within. Here’s what Mandy had to say concerning the incident.”

“Oh my God,” you said louder than necessary, eyes wanting to brim with tears until you noticed the equally worried looks on the four boy's faces, but of course, the five of you had pretty different reasons for looking that way.

“This is Sydney Baker with ENN News… Ms. Reeves, can you please share an account of what you remember most from your attack last night?” the reporter interrogated with a fat microphone in her hand.

From what you could tell, Mandy still seemed pretty shaken up about what happened, even from the blurry TV screen.

You couldn't help but feel guilty after sending her through all that, knowing she was the type of person to stand up for someone even if it meant she'd end up getting hurt, too.

“I… all I remember was a bunch of boys… T-too many of them to count, but they all looked like trouble from the moment they walked in the store,” Mandy stuttered before the camera, eyes wandering all over the place with her gray mane an utter mess on her head.

“And what did you say about another girl earlier? Did she assist the attackers?” The reporter asked back.

“NO! No, not at all... she was the one in danger! I... I-I can’t remember her name, but she’s a good friend to me… always stopped ‘round the shop at night… treated me like I was her own mother…”

“But the attackers, ma’am. Are you genuinely sure this wasn’t some kind of set up?”

“One of those buck-crazy hooligans were in an abusive relationship with her! His name was… Jay… s-something like that… he must’ve built up some kinda gang to get her back.”

“Ma’am, you said earlier that your memory is a bit foggy… are you certain the information you’re sharing with us is accurate?”

“Yes, this all happened before they jumped me… that girl… she’s been hiding from him for over four months now I believe… my guess is that he finally caught up to her... I went to call the police and—”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Mandy, but we’re running low on time… once again this is Sydney Baker reporting live from Goldman's 24-Hour Convenience Store. Back to you, James...”

The reporters voice faded into the background as Niki and Jungwon made direct eye contact with each other, looking at Sunoo next who sat with a worried expression on his face.

“That old fucking bitch-”

“Niki, chill out, alright?” Jungwon interrupted, standing up from the table to gather your food and trash.

“Hey, I was still eating that,” you complained, taking one last sip of your drink before he snatched that from you too.

“Tough because we’re leaving,” Sunghoon said sternly before aggressively hooking your arms in his, despite how gentle he wanted it to seem to anyone looking.

“She thinks this shit is funny,” Niki scoffed, opening the gas station door for Sunghoon to lead you back to the car, “just look at the way she’s beaming right now…”

“My 'beaming' has nothing to do with you assholes getting busted for not covering your tracks properly, but everything to do with your actual response to the news,” you corrected, feet struggling to keep up with Sunghoon’s fast-paced walking as his hold on your arm fastened, “you all should be scared...”

“Interesting comment coming from you,” Jungwon retorted, right before calling out to his hyung’s ahead of him, “we gotta get her outta here as soon as possible.”

“What happened?” Heeseung asked first, considering how fast you guys came back.

Jake had just finished pumping the gas when you all reached the car, disgruntled looks on the three boy's faces as Sunghoon began to explain what happened.

“We were on TV,” Sunghoon said, opening the back door of the truck and practically shoving you in, “that old chick gave the cops a name, too…”

Heeseung's eyebrows furrowed at his friends words, “I... I don’t understand, what’re you guys saying?”

“We don’t know much yet, but someone found Mandy last night and she spilled as many beans as she possibly could,” Niki spat somewhere in between, all of them getting in their respective seats as Jake caught on to the dilemma a little sooner than Heeseung did, “we’re fucked.”

Slamming his foot on the gas, the vehicle took off out of the parking lot, the entire vibe somehow feeling much darker than before now that they were potentially being man-hunted.

“Whose name did she drop?” Jake asked angrily over the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from the intense grip.

The boys fell quiet, Heeseung being equally confused and curious as they sat with clenched jaws, body’s rocking a bit with the car's bolstering drifts as you decided to speak up on their silent behalves.

“Jay,” you started, voice like a single note of a piano that rung strong in their headspace as chills ran down their tensed backs… “she mentioned Jay...”

ABOUT AN HOUR had passed before the sleek black van pulled up into Jay’s driveway, a feeling of shock and gratefulness washing over you at the fact that the boys didn’t take a pit-stop at the “classroom” to teach you any lessons.

“Get her out,” Jake practically barked, Niki almost instantly grabbing your arm at his hyung’s words.

“Isn’t Jay still at work?” You asked somehow in between all the action, Sunghoon having opened the car door to your right and grabbing your other arm, too.

“Yes,” Sunghoon sighed, not even meeting your face as he spoke, “but he’ll be here shortly—”

“I’ll put in a tip that the crybaby missed him very much,” Niki added, speeding up his footsteps until you all reached the tall, mahogany front door, the simple sight of it bringing back one too many memories you wished you could forget now…

Memories of when you loved Jay sincerely, and he loved you… memories of when he used to never put you in harms way… memories of when you were able to look him in his handsome face without gritting your teeth with rage—

Click.

Jungwon unlocked the door with a spare key that was so conveniently placed beneath the front porch statue of an eagle.

Sunghoon and Niki let your arms free in unison, a tingly sensation running up and down the length of your limbs thanks to the force they initially applied.

The four of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, up until you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

“Make yourself at home, ____,” Heeseung began, startling you from behind as your mind became aware of his daunting frame behind you, “and make it quick before a bug flies in, please…”

“O-oh,” you stammered, taking a few rushed steps until you made it all the way inside, the flashy interior of Jay’s home somehow widening your tired eyes.

The sound of Jake’s boots traveled somewhere behind you, his arms being filled with a black dress, pair of heels, and velvet jewelry bag.

“For you, if it wasn’t obvious,” he said plainly, facial features as blank as a fresh canvas.

“Jay wants you to shower before he comes back… and also,” he paused for a second, handing you the items he held before his hand snagged at the rubber band holding up his man-bun and passing it to you, “try to make yourself look nice, alright?”

. . .

Twist.

The faucet creaked slightly as you hopped into the shower, it’s stream of warm water soothing your grimy skin.

You took a moment to let the water moisten your entire body from head to toe before reaching for the loofa and bottle of soap, sudsing up the product before lathering it in.

The tiny pool of water around your feet was muggy and dark, reminding you of just how dirty you had been the whole day, even though it didn’t really bother you after a while.

Twist.

You turned the faucet off, guiding your freshly shampooed hair into a towel while you dried off your body, stepping out of the tub with dry feet to avoid making a mess of things.

The house had become so quiet that even the water trickling down the drain sounded loud.

Pumping a few squirts of lotion into your palm, you massaged it into your thirsty skin, just as your eyes caught sight of the pink razor sitting idly on the counter.

It’s set of three silvery blades shined eerily beneath the overhead ceiling lights, especially against the foggy bathroom mirror.

That’s crazy, your mind internally scolded itself, even though the razor was already in your hand by now.

It’s not even worth it, you heard another voice say, but this time, in an almost daring tone.

Your eyes narrowed in on the squiggly train of green and blue veins decorating your delicate wrist.

You felt your heart start to throb the longer you stared, not out of nervousness, because your heart beat was relaxed in this moment, but out of pain from the sharp sensation that traveled to your finger tips, a stream of dark, rich red trailing down your forearm and dripping onto your bath towel.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hey, you almost done in there or what?” Heeseung’s voice asked from behind the door, your mind just now realizing that the razor was still inches away from you, resting in its initial spot.

No blood.

No pain.

Just your head playing tricks on you again—

“Uh… y-yeah, just gimme a sec.” You stalled, hand almost instantly grabbing the black dress from its clothes-hanger and sliding it up your hips.

Heeseung still stood behind the door, very aware of the fact that you weren’t even close to being ready… regardless of this, he turned on the heel of his boot and called out, “She’s almost ready, Jay!” indirectly letting you know to hurry the fuck up in there.

“How does she look for me?” You assumed Jay asked from outside, given that Heeseung responded with a cheesy “absolutely beautiful.”

Jay made his way into the room, knocking gently on the bathroom door... not peeking, just listening to your soft yet nervous breathing, “I’ll meet you downstairs, okay love?...”

You didn’t answer, but instead, fastening the zipper on the side of your dress, clipping in the crystal earrings, silver necklace, and two beaded bracelets for either wrist while double checking yourself in the mirror.

That's when you heard Heeseung’s footsteps walk away with Jay’s, just as a new set followed right after.

“It’s me, ____,” Sunoo’s voice began, “can I come in for a sec?”

Once again, you didn't answer, only letting an exasperated huff fall from your lips as you looked into the mirror, the act of trying to style your slippery wet hair with Jake's flimsy hair-tie only adding to your stress…

“I know I'm probably one of the last people you wanna talk to right now, but I can help you,” he continued, part of you wishing he meant 'help you escape'—

Click.

You unlocked the door knob with a creak, the misty bathroom air hitting Sunoo’s dewy skin as he walked in, directing his hand out as a sign for you to sit on the toilet.

“Close your eyes for me,” he said, pulling out a tube of mascara to apply to your lashes.

“Thank you,” you meant to say, but you were interrupted by his voice saying, “I'm sorry” first...

“Sun, can we please not do this right now?” You sighed, an apology from anyone being the last thing on your mind right now.

Sunoo’s chest raised with an anxious exhale before he let the air out through his nose as he whispered the words, “I had to say it ____… It hurts me, y'know?... seeing you like this... seeing what I helped them all do to you...”

An unsettling silence swarmed between you two before the sad-eyed boy reached in his pocket, pulling out a blush compact to apply a bit of hue to the apple of your cheeks with his fingers.

He then pulled a few hairs out from your head, trying to emphasis your natural beauty instead of stressing over a specific style.

“We won't be toying around with this, by the way,” he smiled softly, taking the rubber band from your hand and tossing it into the bin beside you.

You let yourself chuckle a bit at his actions, but it wasn’t the kind of laughter that made you feel good…

It was the kind of laughter that you have with a friend in grade-school while sitting in detention, waiting for your angry parent to come and pick you up for a good scolding—

“So,” he started, placing his hands at your shoulders as you stood up from the toilet, looking at yourself in the mirror, “what do you think?”

Looking back at your reflection, all you could do was smile softly, not for genuine purposes, but for Sunoo’s sake, a familiar smile spreading across his face too at your appearance.

“You're welcome, then,” he meant to say, but you interrupted him first by turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist and whispering a cracky “I forgive you...” against his chest...

BY NOW, SUNOO had left you alone to gather your emotions for a few more minutes before coming down.

He told you a series of simple steps to follow once you'd leave the bathroom:

1. Walk down the staircase.

2. Greet Jay with a smile, either fake or genuine.

3. Don't do anything stupid.

The hardest of these steps? All three if you were being completely honest... but by now, you had already completed 1% of step one, your nervous legs standing still and firm at the very top of the staircase as Jay's voice called out to you.

“My love, what's the delay for?” You heard Jay ask from the bottom, not being able to see you given the way the stairwell curved, “I'm ready to see you...” he went on...

The gall of this man... to demand your presence like he had a right to it or something... this whole thing was just so... dehumanizing.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this Jay,” you blurted out, letting your first mind speak before you could even rationalize a more suitable reply... before you could even take your next step down the staircase...

“I'm giving you an opportunity to cooperate by your own persuasion, ____... please don't abuse it,” he warned coldly, resting his hand on the staff like structure of the staircase as he kept envisioning you coming down the steps, almost as if his thoughts could manifest it happening...

“You're not even listening to me, ____,” you scoffed, thinking back in your head how this clown-show would've been avoided if you actually just picked up that damned razo-

“That's nonsense, and you know it, ____... I understand that you're stressed, but please-”

“No, Jay, because that's the thing,” you interrupted with a raised voice, “you don't understand a damn thing about what I've been going through, all at the hands of you and those strange boys you puppet around...”

“Baby, I get that this is a difficult situation, but I'm trying my very best to make this work,” he pleaded, looking at top the stairs as if you could somehow see his forlorn face.

By now, you had already skipped step 2 and entirely ignored step 3-

“Well, pardon me for adding to the difficulties, but fuck your efforts,” you spat, kicking off the heels you wore and tossing them beside you with a loud clatter, “they've only been out of vanity this whole time anyway...”

Anyway...

The word echoed within your soul, right before it became like wind in your ears...

Your heart skipped a few beats as you suddenly felt like you were falling, both down with gravity and out of the world at the same time, eyes widening with the gasp that escaped your tightening throat.

The feeling of forceful hands left your back, your feet tripping over your steps as you whipped your head to see who pushed you, the whole moment occurring in slow-motion as your eyes met Niki's piercing ones, his large hand waving facetiously at you as you continued to tumble down the staircase.

Your back hit the final step with a loud crack, your consciousness leaving you instantly as your now sleeping face met Jay's, and even though you couldn't see it, his eyes filled with utter terror, boot-clad feet running towards your feeble body.

His words came out like confused soup, but each sentence was something along the lines of 'don’t leave me like this.'

“She brought this upon herself, hyung,” Niki announced shamelessly, coming down the staircase in harsh, slow steps as the shadow of a menacing smirk remained clear on his face, “just let her go...”

Jay looked up at Niki with tears in his eyes. “You idiot!” was all he yelled before scooping you up in his arms, Heeseung running over from the kitchen to see what happened from the noise.

“Oh my God,” Heeseung gasped, running to take you from Jay's hold only for his hand to be swatted away with a nonverbal 'I can handle her,' on his behalf.

“Just open the door... I have to get her outta here,” Jay's voice bit back, trying to stop himself from breaking down at the sudden course of events.

“If she doesn't wake back up soon, promise me that the five of you will make sure that Niki doesn't live to see another day...”

YOUR EYES CRACKED open slowly like rusty door hinges, a throbbing sensation from your head being the first thing you noticed upon waking up.

And the second sensation? Well, it was the tingly feeling running up and down your back, extending all the way into your tied up wrists.

If you didn't remember falling down the stairs before, you definitely remembered it now as you felt a bit of blood drip from the poorly bandaged cut in your brow, your entire being physically cringing at the memory.

Step, step.

Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, only to find Jay waltzing around in an idle circle around the room.

Or more specifically, the classroom...

You're not sure why he decided to bring you here instead of a proper hospital to be checked out, but then again, you didn't really understand anything that Jay did.

Like for instance, why he decided to tie you up in a basement like a criminal within minutes of you literally flying down his staircase-

“Where’s Sunoo?” You began upon making eye contact with Jay, not giving him the chance to start a conversation first.

There was an awkward pause before he finally responded with a blunt, “What’s it matter to you, anyways?… He hated you with every bone in his pathetic body...”

“That's a lie!” You barked back, surprised by your own intensity.

And God, yelling at him only made your head hurt even more.

Jay scanned your bruised face for a moment, communicating to you with his eyes that it’d be best to watch your mouth from here on out considering how it landed you at the bottom of a staircase not too long ago.

His eyes then fell to the sight of your arms that were tied securely behind your back and to the chair post, all by the likes of Heeseung.

You were already treading on thin ice here, so you knew that if you were to say anything at all, it would have to be at the very least somewhat respectful...

Jay smiled softly as your facial features relaxed with the exhausted sigh you let out, the slim sign of compliance compelling him to pace around the room more freely this time.

“To answer your question, love… I suppose some people are just simply,” he delayed in thought, looking up for a second til the right word came to mind… “Replaceable,” he finally finished, voice sounding eerily low as he now made a fierce eye contact with you.

You didn’t understand why he was taunting you all of a sudden… almost as if his previously compassionate demeanor had been corrupted by someone…

“A set of six friends that help you commit crimes… the meager cashier at a local convenience store… there are plenty of kindred spirits for those type of people… for instance, we’re both bound to find another Sunoo… and you, another Mandy—”

“What gives you any right to speak of them in such a way? After all the pain you’ve cost in their lives,” you questioned with a broken voice, hesitant tears welling in your eyes as the pain in your wrist increased with your emotions, the tight restraints only feeling worse any time you moved even in the slightest bit.

Jay caught onto this, too… watching the way your body winced from behind every time you even thought to disrespect him… it brought one of the most sincere smiles to his chilled face that you’ve seen in quite a while.

“Does talking back to me make you feel powerful, love?… c’mon, you can be honest… I won’t laugh…”

You never gritted your teeth so hard in your entire life as you did in this moment, staring back at him with bloodshot eyes as your vision started to blur from the tears.

“No,” you muttered out wobbly, hanging your head low as it became too hard to keep looking at his face, “it doesn’t make me feel anything at all…”

His feet paused in their pacing, right before he turned to meet you where you sat, taking your chin in his hands and forcing you to look up at him, an unreadable but nonetheless threatening look in his eyes as your heart fluttered with nerves...

“I see…,” Jay continued, eyes not meeting yours but still wandering over the expanse of your face, observing your bruised cheek bone, the tiny cut in your lower lip, and the wrinkle between your furrowed brows. “Allow me to help you feel something for once, then…”

“Something painful, I’m sure—”

“I prefer the word pleasant,” he smiled, still holding your chin in place as his free hand reached for the dagger sitting on the side table, its sharp blade still shining before you despite the dimly lit atmosphere.

In this moment, the only pleasant thought in your heart was death, but Jay knew that would be both too good and bad of an ending for you.

Kneeling over you, he lined the blade up with the thick rope entrapping your weakened wrists, slicing back and forth in skilled motions until he felt your hands release.

A relaxed sigh left your mouth at the feeling, the simple sense of relief still mixing with anguish as Jay locked his eyes back on yours.

He knelt down now, letting your chin go as he cut the restraints from around your ankles, placing the blade in your lap before standing up to take a few steps away from you.

“Jay, why are you letting me free—”

“Because I love you, ____,” he stated firmly, removing his jacket from his shoulders as he watched you from where he stood, “that’s always been my reason behind everything since the day I first met you… since I realized that a soul like yours isn’t replaceable…”

“I… I don’t understand what you're trying to say—”

“Stand up,” he continued, voice sounding so deep that you felt it in your feet, “and pick up the knife…”

He watched your trembling hand reach for the blade as if in slow motion, your knees flexing to stand up, weakness plaguing your every step as you walked towards him, his usually sharp eyes softening to a state of meekness…

Or perhaps, it was another state in reflection of the twisted love Jay had chased for months on end… right before he decided within himself that he was willing to finally give it up if that's what it'd take to keep you safe... to see you happy...

“All you’ve ever wanted was to make your own choices… to have that freedom back that I took away from you... this is the only time I’m willing to give you a chance at liberty—”

“I’m not going to kill you, Jay,” your voice came out quietly with a crack, silently hiccuping now as the tears continued to fall, your anxious body somehow craving none other than his strong arms to catch you in case you fell… or even just for the fuck of it...

“Then don’t,” he whispered, maintaining a gentle smile as you practically fell apart from the inside out right before his eyes, “you can do whatever it is that you wish to now... Kill the thought of me along with this version of yourself, and run away for good… I won’t chase you anymore…”

This whole thing... it was becoming far more confusing than you could bear… all this time, all you ever wanted was to be your own person again... who could make decisions without having to look over their shoulder in fear anymore...

All you ever wanted was to live a happy life without Jay and his games, but right now, you couldn’t really remember or imagine what a life like that would look like anyways...

Even if you did run away, you’d still have all the memories from these horrors attached to you… all of the fears cementing every corner of your being like a dungeon... you’d still be reminded by all the bruises and pain...

Your life had come to a point where there was no more pleasure to seek from here, as Jay had filled every possible void and meaning in your life with fragments of his insanity for you...

Just as he operated and just as you concluded to yourself a long time ago, broken toys were Jay’s favorite objective, and if you weren’t already broken upon being found, you were bound to be by the time he finished playing with you.

Simply put, this traumatizing love game was nearing its demise, and you had come too far, become too weak to still put up a fight...

You fell into Jay's chest, his protective arms holding you close to him as your cold tears met his warm skin.

You desperately clung to his shoulders, hoping to gain any sense of comfort from the contact… any sense of that pleasantness he offered to you.

The dagger fell to the ground with a shattering clink, all of your nerves melting away as Jay continued to hold you, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as you continued to sniffle.

He always knew you’d come around, because that's how things went for him as a Park... though, he also knew it’d still hurt you in the beginning until you'd become adjusted.

You exhaled in his embrace, eyes shut tight even though the tears continued to spill.

“I don’t want to run anymore either, Jay,” you choked out, still clinging to him as he hummed at your words.

“I know, ____…” he said, almost in an apologetic manner, “but now…” he stalled in the silence, peeking down at the knife on the floor, “you’ll have to learn to love me again… but in the meantime, things will be different between us... better... and I can promise you that, love...”

All you did was nod against his chest, finally letting your eyes open up as you spoke an almost inaudible, “I hope I’ve made the right decision…”

He broke from the hug, still connecting your bodies by the waist as he took your hand in his hand to place a kiss against the tender marks on your wrist, a single thought resting in the back of your troubled mind...

You had just given up on your only chance of survival, and was that a foolish or wise decision? You’re not so sure as of now… but either way, one thing remained certain… a thing that you dreaded to acknowledge even now as Jay held you in his arms…

You could only hope that this certainty wouldn’t haunt you til the end of time, and that somewhere within the depths of your broken heart, you’d grow more accepting of the simple fact that Jay, in all of his efforts, had finally won, leaving the two of you now as a united pair to pick up and rebuild the pieces together…

☆ This concludes the CONVENIENT CHANCES series’ season finale everyone! I’d like to give special thanks to @yourmomscuntis2tighy for originally requesting this piece, and to all of the amazing people who supported this series to the very end 🤍🤍🤍

☆ NOTE: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @addictedtohobi @wonbinisbabygurl @cherlv @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii @valhrts @tinyenha @lisaaannna @valentineluvr @heecries @espyluvsyou @tokusatsutoad @confuse20x @teddursa @riviyw @tamii4 @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @03sunoos @oshsha @elleflying07 @jjungwonss @soobins--dimple @heeseung-min @heerinnie @wonbyf @smouches @ilovesunoosm @whattheflipbroski @starrylovesu @jungwonloveer @idkdykilr @jays-property @daintysan @oddracha @miinie6300 @lilyuwon @meowmeowjang @sun00027 @kkamismom12

[cordeliawhohung]

Honestly Simom is the kind of psycho I could totally see just fucking breaking Bonnie’s legs to keep her from running. Never lets them heal right, either, gotta make sure she can’t ever try anything again. Either that or sever her Achilles tendons.

you know what, you're so right. anyway-

non-canon addition to Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) | ghoap x reader

i'm sorry, johnny

cw: non-con, threats of violence, slight body horror, slapping, spreading bar, light bondage, dead dove

The cuts you received from the bramble and thicket still sting. 

Splinters and thorns embed themselves deep into your skin where they sing their songs of torment. It’s enough to make your eyes water. Inflamed and irritated epidermis squeals as the thick fabric of your jeans further poke and prod the already broken and delicate skin. Still, none of it is worse than the look in Simon’s eyes as he towers over you, brow slick with perspiration, chest heaving and bobbing beneath his shirt. 

An achy sere ravages the back of your throat, causing the skin to stick to itself as you swallow with little relief. There is something worse than contempt in Simon’s eyes. Worse than frustration or anger. He is virulent. You can see it in the twitch of his fingers and the way he bares his teeth. Desperate hands paw against the living room floor as you back away, limbs scurrying with the same pathetic effort of a rodent as your back collides with the couch. 

“Think you can run?” he goads, heavy feet stomping closer to you. His knees collide with the floor just before you, and he yanks you closer by your ankles. Squealing, your legs thrash, but his grip is ultimately stronger. “After everythin’ I’ve done for ya? Ungrateful fuckin’ slag.”

He begins to work on your shoes. Thick fingers rip at the laces until he’s tossing them aside where they clatter on the ground with cacophonous bangs. No amount of begging or pleading is going to save you from this infraction. Of running from the hands that feed you and the teeth that bite you. The confusion that precedes the pain is the worst. The unknown. Baffled as to why his punishment would involve removing not only your shoes, but your pants too.

Fearing the worst, you squeal as your jeans rip and tear with his fury, tattered remains tossed aside as he tries to get you to straighten one of your legs. You don’t make it easy. You’ve turned into an animal, just like he’s always called you. Some mutt that’s perfect for his sweet Johnny. You growl and claw and screech — a cornered dog, a cat caught in water, a bird with clipped wings. 

Your cries cease with a well timed slap. Simon uses the back of his hand, knuckles colliding with your cheek, bone on bone causing pain to blossom with a throb. The back of your head bumps against the floor, and your vision sparkles. Petite black dots dance across your view like ballerinas. Spinning and pirouetting without a care in the world. 

“Quit your bitchin. Runnin’ away like that? Think that’s ever gonna happen again? Not on your fuckin’ life, Bonnie,” Simon promises. “Now stop it. It’ll be easier for you if you quit strugglin’ like this.” 

It isn’t until his knee begins to rest on your shin that you realize exactly what he means. Slow pressure builds as he attempts to find the fulcrum of your tibia. The soft point in which he can snap it in two. To truly break you worse than he’s ever had before. 

“Ye found ‘er!” 

Johnny’s tone is all too triumphant for the mess you’re being made into, but it makes Simon hesitate. Blazing eyes look away and lock onto Johnny who stands in the doorway. You tremble, sweat slicking along your spine and the back of your neck, nervous system going haywire as it attempts to prepare itself for the agony you’re about to endure. 

“Go back to the room,” Simon orders. 

He cocks his head, brows furrowing. “What are ye doin’ to ‘er?”��

Simon puts more pressure on your leg, and you swear you can feel the marrow begin to boil. “Makin’ sure she doesn’t run from us again.” 

It’s impossible to hold back the terror or the brine that comes with it. Tears cascade down your cheeks as you paw at your aching face, just wanting it all to be over already. To feel the ache and the pain and then be done with it, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Johnny treads carefully as he approaches, kneeling next to you, warm hands rubbing at your free leg like he’s petting a skittish cat. 

“But she has such pretty legs. Please, we kin do something else, cannae we?” Johnny begs. 

Simon hesitates. It’s something he only ever does when Johnny’s around. Pause. Think for a moment about something other than the malicious terror he wants to inflict upon you. When he takes his weight off of your leg, you’re finally able to breathe again — albeit, a bit too easily. Your diaphragm seizes as it hyperventilates, hot tears accompanying them as he begins to rip the remaining scraps of clothes off your body. Tearing you apart until you’re bare, he rolls you onto your stomach, hand pressed flat against your back as he leans in to whisper. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move a muscle. If I come back an’ find you in a different position, Johnny be damned, I’ll shatter those goddamn legs, ya hear?” he says. Each syllable is horrisonant, and still you nod. 

His absence is all too short. You would have rather stayed there bare on the floor for an eternity than bear what you face now. Hands tied behind your back with thick, scratchy rope; the position pushes your breasts out, displaying them perfectly as you sit leaning against the couch. Rope isn’t the only way he chooses to hinder you — to keep you bound to this place. A metal spreading bar grips your ankles, forcing your legs apart. You’re unable to move them, except to bend your knees. 

The sight is all too much for Johnny, who sits on the floor before you, salivating. Tongue wetting his lips, blue eyes rake over your body like a greedy child at a candy shop. His hand wanders as he adjusts his aching cock in his pants, unabashed. Proud, almost. As he crawls toward you, you want to look away. To close your eyes and will this all away, but you can’t. 

Simon’s legs rest on either side of you as he sits on the couch, almost as if worried you’ll still be able to escape after his handiwork. Truculent fingers grip your overgrown hair — you’ve been here so long, you’ve changed so much — and he keeps your gaze straight as Johnny begins to fish his cock from his trousers. 

“Gonna be good now? Gonna apologize for causin’ a mess? Huh, Bonnie? Go on. Tell ‘im your sorry,” Simon demands. “Say it. Tell Johnny you’re sorry.” 

Lips pressing together, you try not to look at Johnny, or the way he eagerly fists himself at the sight of you. But no matter where you look, there is a reminder of pain somewhere. Old stains that soak the floor. The ichor that beads along the scratches of your legs. You have been torn to shreds in this very spot, and it will continue to happen as long as you draw breath. 

“Say it,” Simon snaps. 

Trembling, your knees shift in an attempt to conceal as much from them as possible — as if you even have a shred of dignity left to protect. “I’m sorry, Johnny.” 

He takes everything he’s ever wanted from you, and still, you repeat it — like a cornered dog; a cat caught in water; a bird with clipped wings.

I’m sorry, Johnny. 

I’m sorry, Johnny.

I’m sorry. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | x.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Panic ripples through you as Ethan’s body heavily drapes over yours, his lips stealing yours for yet another ravenous kiss. 

Hopeless, your fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

You bite his lip with all your strength.

The metallic tang of Ethan’s blood spills over your tongue. 

He hisses, jerking away from you. He lets you go and air finds shelter in your lungs again.

Ethan grips his jaw, his face scrunching.

When his tongue sweeps over the blood dripping from the cut on his mouth, a dark laugh leaves Ethan’s mouth. 

The look he gives you sends a chill across your spine.

You retreat to the furthest corner of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest.

A tremulous whisper rises from your throat.

“Ethan…I think you need to go. I d-don’t feel safe right now.”

You suppose you should try to get up, dash to the door. It’s what common sense dictates. But for some reason, you’re frozen in your spot, drenched in sheer denial of what just transpired - almost transpired - on your bed. 

“Don’t feel safe? I’ll be so good to you,” he defends, spreading his fingers towards you. Bile climbs up your throat. You recoil, making yourself even smaller to avoid his touch.

Hurt paints itself over Ethan’s boyish features at your reaction. 

A contemptuous laugh bursts from his chest.

“You think any of these guys ever cared about you, ever saw you, really saw you?” he asks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. Your mouth goes slack as he continues. “Do you think any of them cares what you think or how you feel? That they’re interested in you because you’re such a great conversationalist or because you’re so funny or smart? They’re not.” A shudder slithers through you. The crimson tear on his bottom lip shimmers as his mouth stretches in a slanted grin. “All of them only want you for one thing. They just want to show you off, use you, fuck you and then t-”

A slapping echo resonates across your room as your hand flies in the direction of Ethan’s cheek.

For a while, a deathly silence blankets your room.

Ethan’s reddened cheek pulses as his gaze widens.

His head turns slowly.

He gapes at you, seeming as stunned as you are that you struck him.

You can’t remember the last time you hit someone. Maybe you never did.

But Ethan’s cruel words sank into you like a knife, jabbing at your deepest insecurities. The fact that they poured out of a friend makes it all so much worse. 

“Get out of my room, Ethan, now. I mean it or I’ll…scream for help.”

He glares at you one last time before getting to his feet.

A sigh floats from his lips as he crouches to pick up his backpack.

You tense when he pauses on the threshold, his gaze on you unusually hard. 

“In time, you’ll understand. I’m the only guy for you…just like you’re the only girl for me,” Ethan says matter-of-factly.

When the door clicks shut after his departure, you jump from your bed. Wobbly fingers rush to snap the lock back into place. 

Your short-winded breaths fill the room, coalescing with the wild hammering of your heart.

As your legs weaken underneath you, you collapse against the door. You tuck your legs against your chest as tears skip down your cheeks.

You glance at your phone from across the room. It’s lying across the mess of rumpled sheets. The very same sheets Ethan pushed you onto.

Your insides lurch.

A fresh wave of tears gathers in your eyes as your lashes flutter shut.

There’s nothing you want more than to call your friends right now, hear a familiar voice, feel a warm embrace…but you can’t.

He made sure of that. 

So you let your sobs grow louder as you wrap your arms around yourself as tight as you can. 

It’s a blessing you don’t run into Ethan the following week. To your astonishment, he doesn’t attend any of the classes you two share, most notably Econ and Psych 101. You find yourself staring at the empty seat he used to occupy a lot of the time. Every time you do, a confounding blend of emotions stirs inside you, one you still haven’t fully untangled. 

Part of you is hurt, of course. You never imagined such a side lay dormant in Ethan. It was like he turned into a different person that night. And the things he said to you…your chest twinges whenever you remember the utter viciousness of those words.

Those are the kind of things you’ve heard from others before. But you never expected in a million years to hear them coming from him.

Yet another part of you…feels guilty. What if it’s like Mindy suggested one time? What if you caused that by leading him on, sending him signals without meaning to? 

You always tried your best to be a good friend to Ethan but maybe he misread things you told him or even the way you acted around him… and you ended up becoming a bad friend instead.

The heartbreak that glistened in his eyes that night is still etched in your mind. You hurt him, and you loathe that you did. Despite what happened, you can’t help but still care about him. 

You can’t forget the moments you shared together, how he was there for you when you needed it most. You hate the idea of one awful moment ruining your friendship. 

You also refuse to believe this is who Ethan is. It can’t be. His emotions must have gotten the better of him. Maybe he too feels horrible about the situation. After all, he's all but disappeared this week. Hopefully in time, you both can apologize to each other. 

One day perhaps. Because right now you can barely stomach the thought of being anywhere near him.

The events of that night are still so fresh. 

Engulfed in your gloomy musings, you bump into someone else. The books in your arm scatter across the hallway floor. 

You crouch to pick them up and so does the other person. 

“It’s okay. I got it.”

The sound of the familiar voice has your head snap up.

Emotions swell in your chest as a warm smile you’ve sorely missed crowds your line of sight.

“Hey, it’s been a while…” Anika gingerly remarks.

For a while, you soak in her presence. You grow overwhelmed, the plethora of things you wish you could say to her scorching your lips. 

Then the harshness of reality crashes upon you. 

You can’t talk to Anika. You can’t talk to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, on the cusp of scampering in the other direction but Anika’s hand on your arm stops you. You flinch at the light touch.

Anika’s forehead puckers. She retreats her hand and cocks her head sideways.

“Is something wrong?” she inquires, her soft tone laced with concern.

Hasty words roll off your tongue. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

Anika’s scrutiny prickles your skin. It’s obvious she doesn’t fully believe you, her stare lingering on the hickeys Ethan peppered over your neck. You self-consciously brush your fingers over them.

You’re thankful when she doesn’t address them and switches topics. 

“You know there’s a party for Chad and Mindy’s birthday this week,” she reminds, gauging your reaction.

“Yeah, I know.”

Of course, you know. How could you forget? Every year, you used to look forward to it. You even have an alarm for it on your phone. Before everything, you even discussed potential plans to go on a group trip to Chicago.

You can’t see yourself being a part of that now.

“They’re both really hoping you’ll be able to come.”

You nudge a feeble smile on your face.

“I’m late for cheer practice, Anika.”

“Whatever’s going on…You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You freeze. A terrifying echo in a deeper voice swells in your mind.

I’m always here for you, you know that.

Collecting your books from her hands, you rush past her as she tosses you a sad look.

“I gotta go. Tell Chad and Mindy I can’t make it. I’m sorry.”

You don’t glance back as you head to the locker room, afraid you’ll fall to pieces if you do.

You just changed into your cheerleader outfit when your phone vibrates. You sigh, hoping it isn’t Chad again. He’s been blowing up your phone nonstop within the last few days. You surmise he’s also trying to convince you to attend his and his sister’s birthday. 

You can’t even face him right now. What if he suspected something? You shudder to think how he’d react. You can’t see it boding well for Ethan. 

Chewing on your lip, you retrieve your phone from your gym bag. 

You swipe your thumb down to open the notification floating atop the screen.

A video fills the screen and your gaze bulges at what you see. 

Your fingers wobble around the device, your mouth falling open in horror.

A crying Quinn sits on a chair in a dusky room, tied up with thick ropes and her mouth covered with duct tape. Smudged mascara streaks down her freckled cheeks, her pleading gaze seeming to dive right into yours. 

Your breath hitches as you watch Ghostface skulk around her chair, his sharp blade tracing the side of her neck while she sobs. 

Dread twists your insides.

A string of messages appears below the video.

Come to this address alone right now or she dies.

Tell anyone and she dies.

Call the cops and she dies.

Tick, tock, princess.

You shake your head, a wave of queasiness clutching your senses. 

Not again. 

You frantically copy the address included in the message before pasting it into your ride-hailing app. 

The app indicates that your driver will arrive in five minutes outside the gates of campus so you make a beeline for the exit door.

You gasp as Alana blocks your path, standing akimbo in front of the door with a scowl on her face.

“Are you seriously leaving right now?” she asks, her shrill, accusing tone like a whip. “We’re about to rehearse the new routine. The next game is in three weeks.”

You shrink, your features scrunching apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Alana, but… something came up. Something important.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Are you really…You know what?” She tosses her hands up in the air, stepping to the side to make room for you. “I give up. I’ve had it with you and your drama.” She narrows her icy blue eyes at you. “If you leave today, don’t bother coming back.”

“O-Okay,” you stammer, your gut sinking. Cheerleading was the one thing you had, the one thing that wasn’t going completely off the rails. Now you don’t even have that anymore.

Suppressing the budding tears behind your eyes, you take a deep breath and take a firm stride towards the door.

Alana’s jaw drops when you remove the bow in your hair and throw it at her feet.

She gave it to you when you joined the team.

You don’t look back as you brush past her and shove the door open.

“I want my uniform back on Monday,” she hisses.

Your chest clenches, but there’s no time to process yet another crushing disappointment, all your thoughts turning to Quinn.

She needs you right now. 

So you race across campus as if your feet were on fire.

You all but lunge inside the car waiting for you, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to the man who casts you a dirty look. You slip him an extra twenty so he drives a little faster, heart pounding wildly against your ribcage.

He ends up dropping you off in front of an abandoned theater.

You get the heebie-jeebies as you peer at the building with the crumbling facade and shattered lights. Diving inside it requires every ounce of courage you possess.

Fearful steps lead you to the lobby. The eerie stillness around you makes your nerves sing.

You steal a glimpse at the popcorn machine, the spider webs you spot inside sparking a shiver through your frame.

You slink through the wide open doors of the first hall you see. Stomach tight, you drag your feet forward. The freezy winds fluttering through the room skate across your skin as you enter. 

You rub your arms, nervousness growing at the sight of the empty theater seats.

You swallow the lump nestled in your throat. You truly are on your own.

After a quick survey, you find Quinn, bound to her chair amidst the center stage.

Relief floods your insides.

You sprint directly to her and climb onto the stage.

The first thing you do is remove the duct tape covering her mouth.

“Quinn! Oh my god, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Her bright green eyes follow your motions in silence as you begin untying her, a little taken aback by how easily the ropes come off, requiring barely any effort to yank loose.

Once you’re done, Quinn stands up and rubs her wrists. 

“Quinn?” you repeat, worried by her strange quietness. Maybe she’s too traumatized to speak. 

She cracks her neck backwards, stretching it before her gaze lands on you again.

Her lips stretch in a slow, wide grin. 

She then bursts out in laughter.

Your brows knit as you fall back, confused. Your voice trickles out in a tremulous whisper.

“W-Why are you laughing?”

She slants her head to the side.

“You were right, big bro. She actually fell for it,” she says before letting out an impressed whistle. She chortles. “Not a very bright one, is she?”

“I mean, I told you she would.”

You whirl at once, shocked to hear the last person you’d expect to find here. You tremble as you come face to face with Ghostface.

Befuddlement has you blinking. You could have sworn you heard an all too familiar voice rising from behind the mask.

“W-What’s going on?” 

Ghostface chuckles then removes his mask. The air is knocked from your lungs when his identity is revealed to you. You feel as if the entire world just fell on top of you.

“What going on is that you’re fucked, princess,” Ethan states, a terrible smile spreading onto his lips. “Well, not quite yet…” His lecherous gaze drags over your quivering frame. “But we’ll get there eventually.”

Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Ethan? No…”

His smile broadens. “Yes,” he replies, seeming to relish your reaction.

Your lip quakes as a shuddering sob spills from your throat.

“You’re Ghostface?” you whimper.

He shakes the mask in your face before tossing it away.

“Well, duh,” he chimes. A glint of excitement bounces in his chestnut orbs. “You should have seen the way Connor and Tyler squealed like pathetic little pigs when I stabbed them over and over…” Bloodlust distorts his features. You back away, a fear like no other gripping your throat. “…And over. That was hilarious. Especially Connor. Fuck, it felt good to kill him. That conceited, condescending alpha bro.”

“Why?”

“Because they had no business touching what’s mine,” Ethan replies like it’s obvious.

Your eyes widen as it sinks in that Ethan’s referring to you. On instinct, you leap off the stage and start fleeing in the other direction.

Your mind short-circuits with the onslaught of troubling facts, the chaotic drumming of your pulse filling your ears. 

Ethan is Ghostface…and Quinn is helping him. They even appear related somehow.

You don’t want to believe it but there’s no denying what you witnessed with your own eyes.

Before you can get too far, an abrupt pain blooms at the back of your skull, sending you keeling over the edge of the stage. You wail and curl on the floor, the agony numbing enough to keep you from rising again.

Twirling a baseball bat in her hand, Quinn bends over you. Her form blurs in your sight as you groan.

“Oh, poor thing. I hope I didn’t hit her too hard. You okay, sugar? How many fingers am I holding up?”

She waves her hand in front of you.

“F-Four,” you mindlessly answer.

She perks up at that.

“Attagirl. She’s all yours, big bro. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Ethan nods at his sister - a fact your mind still grapples with - before crouching next to you. He picks you up and cradles your head against his chest. You feebly punch him and he mutters against your temple, “Shh, princess. Don’t fight it.” A rag is suddenly pressed against your mouth, its cloying scent invading your nostrils. Your lashes turn heavy. Your punches grow even weaker till you slump against Ethan. “There you go. Good girl.” 

Spots of darkness creep the edges of your vision until it’s all there is…darkness, and the dwindling echo of Ethan’s sickeningly tender voice mooring you amidst it.

You awake in a strange and obscure bedroom, the only meager light coming from a single window above you. You wince, your head heavy as you move it. As soon as you try to shift on the bed, you realize something is restricting your wrists’ range of motion.

Gasping, you look up. Your stomach sinks as you take note of the metal cuffs binding you to the headboard of the bed.

Your gaze lowers. 

Panic swells in your chest when you see Ethan standing at the foot of the bed.

A smirk decorates his mouth as he watches you struggle.

“Ethan, why am I tied up?” you squeak, almost afraid to know the answer.

You tense as he climbs on the bed, crawling his way to you. Hovering above you, Ethan places his hand on your cheek. 

“It’s much better that way, princess, so you don’t hurt yourself trying to escape,” he explains like it’s the soundest logic in the world, despite how insane this is. 

“Look, Ethan…” you start, carefully pondering your words. Who knows what he’ll do if you say or do the wrong thing? He’s killed people and he could just as easily kill you. You force a quivering smile onto your face. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I had no idea. Please, let me go. I swear I won’t tell a soul.”

Caressing your cheek, Ethan hums, “Oh, I accept your apology, princess and I know you were too stupid to notice…” He bends over you until his mouth skims over your earshell. “But I’m still gonna fuck you.”

Ice spills into your veins. 

Ethan collects the single stray tear sliding over your cheek, bringing it against the seam of his lips with a wide, satisfied smile.

“No, Ethan, please, I’ve never…” you beseech, tugging at your restraints again. Utter helplessness engulfs you as you realize how trapped you are.

Excitement waltzes in his orbs, his eyes crinkling. He cradles your face and smiles down at you endearingly.

“Really? So I’m your first? God this is even sweeter.” He slots his lips over yours, ensnaring them in a slow, heated kiss. The salt of your tears coats both of your tongues. When he lets you breathe again, his forehead falls against yours. Elation drips from his deep, enamored timbre. “You really are my dream girl, you know that?”

He kisses you again, silencing every protest with his mouth. Ethan maps his hunger for you all over your body, sprinkling scorching pecks over your neck, chest and navel and slowly undressing you at the same time. He grabs your boobs and starts fondling them, his tongue swirling over your nipple. 

An uncomfortable heat begins to bloom between your legs, your breathing growing uneven. 

As you feel Ethan’s hard-on press into your thigh, adrenaline rushes through your blood.

“Ethan, don’t…” you beg, your helplessness reaching a peak as he slithers down your frame and parts your thighs. 

He slides your panties to the side. Your heart leaps.

Ethan’s gaze flares devilishly. You only get a glimpse of brown curls before he dives between your legs. 

Words falter on your tongue. Your mind blanks with pleasure as his tongue traces maddening patterns over your bundle of nerves, endlessly teasing it. Broken moans roll off your tongue.

Chest heaving, your back arches on the sheets.

“Fuck, your pussy tastes even better than I imagined, princess,” he lauds, the vibrations from his voice rocking through your core. Your breath catches as coils tighten in your belly.

Ethan devours your cunt until you see stars, coming on his mouth with a sudden shout. He greedily purrs against your folds and licks your arousal as it rains on his tongue.

Before you can even recover from your haze, Ethan sinks one finger inside your wet heat. Your breath hitches at the intrusion.

A sinister chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re so goddamn tight. You really are a virgin, aren’t you?” He hooks his finger inside you, drawing a sharp hiss from you. He smiles down at your squirming form. “This is perfect. We’re gonna be each other’s firsts. Kinda romantic, right princess?”

Ethan groans, seemingly frustrated as he shifts against you.

He leans back and begins undoing his pants. Your stomach clenches. You kick your feet and sob, despair raging inside you. Ethan unleashes a deep, weary sigh before seizing your wrists and slamming them into the headboard.

A pain so intense rings through your bones, you’re shocked your wrists don’t shatter on the spot. You let out an ear-splitting scream. 

He cocks his head, pity flashing across his face.

“Stop moving so damn much. You’re gonna hurt yourself, princess.” You gape at him through your tear-streaked vision. How can he say that when he’s the one hurting you? A soft smile stretches his lips as he squeezes your wrists even more, making your bones grind against one another. “And scream as loud as you want, pretty girl. No one can hear you here.”

You whine as he releases your throbbing wrists. 

His thumb then traces your shuddering mouth. Ethan’s teeth sink into his lip. He cups your face and rasps, “Fuck, I wanted to take it slow…But my balls feel like they’re about to burst, princess.” His pupils inflate with lust. “Why do you have to sound so fucking hot?”

It’s all the warning you get before Ethan hastily lowers his pants and buries himself inside you in one blunt thrust. 

The searing pain steals the breath from your lungs. You feel as if you’ll tear, Ethan’s thick girth stretching you to your limit. The cuffs slice into your flesh as you yank on them desperately. 

“God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he says, his voice hoarse with need. 

“Ethan, please, it hurts,” you beg, tears streaming down your face. 

He peppers tender kisses over your damp cheeks. 

“It’s okay, princess. It only hurts at first…I think.” He unleashes an awkward laugh. 

Ethan drags out of you before shoving inside you to the hilt again. You wail, your core burning at the friction. 

He starts moving, his rising grunts mingling with the wet slap of his skin into yours.

The bed rattles loudly underneath both of you.

Your watery eyes rise to the ceiling in search of a fleeting escape. But Ethan doesn’t allow you that, corralling your jaw so you’re forced to peer into his hungry gaze.

“Stay with me, princess,” he orders, squeezing your jaw painfully whenever you try to look away.

He wraps your legs around his taut hips, piledriving into you. You jolt as he hits a spot that makes your mouth part in a soundless scream. 

Forehead resting against yours, Ethan pounds inside you faster. He reaches between your bodies, pinching your clit. Your vision flickers, your legs turning liquid as you come apart around him. Ethan moans as your walls tighten around his cock. When you come back to yourself, shame fills you. You never wanted this. In fact you hate it. So why is your body surrendering to him so easily?

More tears flood your vision.

“I guess that makes us official,” he chuckles against your temple. “We’ll have to tell everyone the good news.”

He nuzzles your neck and you feel sick. 

His low tone vibrates against your flesh as he warns, “And don’t even think about trying to get away from me. Because if you do…” He pauses, his hips snapping into yours even faster than before. “I’ll kill every single one of your little friends and make you watch while I do.” He grins down at you, fondling your cheek. You choke on a sob. Ethan hums, fingers digging into your ass, “I’ll start with that bitch Mindy, then Anika…and then that asshole Chad.”

“Do you understand, princess?”

He fucks you harder and you whimper. When you stay silent, his large hand wraps around your throat, your pulse thrumming beneath his palm. 

Ethan’s jaw clenches, his eyes darkening.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” he rumbles, his bruising grip on your throat dangerously tight.

“I-I understand, Ethan,” you sputter. 

A wide smile blooms on his features at your agreement. His hold on your neck slackens. Soon after, his pace slows, his thrusts turning sloppier. He goes still above you, his dick twitching inside you. You shudder as a sticky warmth glazes your walls. 

Ethan nestles his head in the crook of your neck. He purrs in pleasure, still sheathed inside you as silent tears skip down your cheeks.

You wished he’d move away, let you process the horror of what he just did to you. Instead he rolls both of your bodies to the side and hugs you tight against him. You cringe as Ethan sprinkles soft kisses over your face, lingering on your lips.

He then traces the heart-shaped scar he carved on your chest during that awful Halloween night before placing a kiss on it too.

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek, pure bliss painting his features. 

“Good girl,” he praises.

~

[gilverrwrites]

The Best You Ever Had

Jason Todd/Reader, 1.7K

A/N: Welp, as promised here’s that self-serving, mildly fucked up Jason Todd/Reader scenario I mentioned earlier. I’m working on I don’t fall, I fly chapter two I swear, but I had to get this unhinged Jason idea out of my head if I’m gonna concentrate. I don’t remember the exact details of the plotline I’m branching off of here 100% so if it’s inaccurate sue me. Warnings: Darker portrayal of Jason. Unhealthy relationship to slightly less unhealthy relationship, non-graphic mentions of death, grief, dub-con, manipulation, abuse of authority kinda, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, hair pulling.

Right so, remember when Jason went balls to the wall on absoloutely fucking ruining Penguins’ life after finding out he was responsible for the death of his birth father?

Okay, now imagine you’re working at The Iceberg at the time, as a waitress, a card dealer, dancer, whatever you fancy, it’s mainly just a cover for the fact that you’re actually Ozwald’s sugar baby.

You’re practically attached to his hip. Sure, he can be a bit much at times, a bit mean, but he’s real sweet on you. There isn’t a thing in this world he wouldn’t do for you, no clothes or gadgets too expensive, no jewels too well-guarded, 'cause you’re his favourite gal. At least you were until you watched Red Hood shoot him in the head on live TV.

Ozzie had paid your rent, your bills, everything, he’d showered you with gifts, but he’d never dealt you actual cash. Without his bank account to fund your checks, you have nothing, not unless you sell off your material possessions. So, not only are you grieving, but you’re forced to pick up as many extra shifts as you can in order to afford to keep up your lifestyle.

Being at The Lounge only reminds you of him, which makes your sorrows worse. You were never bad at the cover job, in fact, it’s how you got your foot in the door. But your emotions are affecting your performance, and when your new boss, Jason Todd, calls you into his office for a performance review, you’re pretty much resigned to the fact that you’re about to be fired.

However, Mr Todd is surprisingly chill. Understanding even. He doesn’t grill you; he just points out that your performance as of late does not match up with Cobblepots files and asks why? What can we do to fix it?

You feel comfortable explaining that you and his predecessor were close, and so his sudden death has hit you hard. You need time to mourn but can’t afford the time off.

When a tear rolls down your cheek you start to feel self conscious until he rounds the desk, crouching in front of you and presenting you with a tissue. He offers you the weekend off, paid, and promises to look into amending the shoddy bereavement policy Oz had enforced. But for now, commiserating may help, and he’s happy to listen, to be a shoulder to cry on.

So, you take the tissue, dabbing up all the tears that fall as you tell him about your arrangement. How Oz had done so much for you, got you out of a pit, how no matter what your friends and family thought, Ozzie really did have your best interests at heart, you swear. Mr Todd nods along, offering a polite laugh when you tell him a funny story, or pulling faces when you recall some of Oz’s less-than-savoury moments. His disapproval makes you feel validated in your distaste for some of the seedier things you’d let Oz get away with because he loved you.

After a while, you move from the desk to the conversation pit which sits beside a floor to ceiling fish tank. You can’t help commending him for keeping on top of looking after the fish and their habitat, it’s a lot of work. He tells you it’s one of his favourite things in the whole building and you agree, recalling how you used to spend hours watching the fish go about their existence when Ozzie would call for you only to spend the evening ignoring you whilst he dealt with 'business'. Jason says that you’re more than welcome to come see the fishes any time you like.

He's so much kinder than you’d expected. Which is why you don’t move when you feel his hand on your back, drawing you closer with strong arms until the warmth of his breath brushes your neck. It’s been weeks since you’d gotten this close with anyone. You hadn’t realised how much you’d craved the intimacy until it was handed to you.

And shit, he smells good too. Looking into his undeniably handsome face you’re struck with guilt for having enjoyed the company, the touch of another man and can’t help the second? third? who knows, wave of tears.

The tissue he’s given you is too sodden to do anything, so he reaches up with his long, surprisingly coarse fingers to wipe up your tears, and you let him.

Your weeping soon starts to ebb after that, but the few droplets that fall regardless are dried by his lips as he boldly presses kisses to your cheeks, and again, you let him.

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on that asshole.” The way he stares into your eyes as he speaks, it almost feels like he’s daring you to challenge him. “You’ll be better off without him.”

Out of respect for Oz, or maybe to defend yourself you bite back at him. “He’s not- he wasn’t an asshole! Not to me.” But you both know it’s a lie.

Before either of you say something you’ll regret, you decide to do something you’ll regret instead. In sync, you both crash your lips together, and Jason all but forces you onto your back with his body weight, his tongue pushing between your lips as his hands work at your uniform.

He’s nothing like Oz. His hands are strong and deft, free of perspiration as they pop your buttons with precision and knead at your newly exposed skin. His mouth, while steeped with a hint of beer, tastes clean. He looks at you with a reverence you’d never experienced before as he draws back to look you in the eye.

“Let me treat you the way you deserve, the way a real man should.” He begs, and when you nod, he practically starts tearing at his clothes. You work on his belt while he pulls his shirt and waistcoat over his head, too impatient to bother with his own buttons.

Your eyes bulge, heart plummeting to your stomach when he pulls down his boxers, exposing a dauntingly large erection.

“Bet you’ve not seen something this big in a long time.” He suggests with a smirk.

“No, I’ve never seen anything that big.” You offer, shuddering when he teases the tips between your slit, grazing your clit. “I don’t think I can take something like that.”

“You will.” His confidence goes straight to your already hungry centre. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it easy on you.”

You gasp when you feel friction at your entrance, and Jason chuckles into the crook of your neck, gently fussing in your ear as he slips a single finger inside you. True to his word, Jason makes the whole thing (mostly) painless and effortless, working his fingers into you one at a time, scissoring his digits and massaging your sensitive clit until you're stretched out and cumming all over his palm, staining the sofa beneath you. Purring to you all the while about how tight and plush your pussy is, how fucking good his cock is gonna make you feel, how he can’t wait to make you forget all about Cobblepot by making you gush all over his dick again and again.

When you’re partly lucid again, coming down from your first orgasm Jason lifts you with ease. He sits back against the couch, settling between your legs so that you’re straddling him. Guiding you onto his cock, thrusting from below, drawing a sinful cry from you as he fills you in one quick movement. It wasn’t unbearable, in fact, you’re a little flustered by the ease with which your pussy sucked him up, but your walls still throb from the final stretch of him buried in the depth at which his impossibly long fingers hadn’t been able to reach.   

His hands grip and caress and pinch every part of you, soaking in every inch as you ride him out, grinding your hips against his, using his body to chase your second release. His lips latch along your torso, sucking and biting his mark into your skin. This time, once you've successfully fucked yourself to climax on his dick, he doesn’t wait for you to come back down. Flipping you over and pushing you forward, he puts you on your hands and knees, presented for him on the coffee table so he can pound into you from behind.

Once he’s coaxed another orgasm out of you there, he carries you to his desk. He fucks you over and over. Revelling in every heated orgasm he rips from you, eating up your sob. He takes you on every surface. The floor, the walls, the window. He even presses you face first against the fishtank, making you watch your reflection in its mirrored back, and you are a pornographic sight to behold; lips dark and swollen from his kisses, hair tangled in his fist, tits pressed against the glass as he pistons in and out of your twitchingly overstimulated, cunt. Every thrust is slick, punctuated by the wet slap of your hips coming together. By this point, Jason’s unending strength is the only thing keeping you upright.

“That bird creep ever fuck you this good, baby?” He grunts into your ear, dark eyes glaring at you through the glass. From this angle you can see how his body practically engulfs yours; the reflection showcasing how his massive palms seem herculean when pinning you. All night he’d been throwing you around, bending and posing you to his will like a doll in his sturdy arms. Something Oz could never do.  

“No, god no Jason!” You whine. Drool spills from your lips as you try to speak. It catches on the glass, smearing back on your face but you’re too utterly fucked, too cock drunk to be embarrassed. “Nobody… never been… fucked like…”

When you don’t finish your sentence Jason laughs, it almost sounds cruel and sends a shockwave to the clit you long thought had been abused to numbness. “Am I the best fuck you ever had?”

“Yes! Yesyesyesyes.” You chant. Completely oblivious to the fact that your sugar daddy, Oswald Cobblepot is not dead. He’s very much alive, and very much not well as he watches Jason Todd fuck the brains out of his best gal from his prison on the other side of the one-way mirror. 

[slut4thebroken]

Trapped

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Capa x reader

Summary | You ask Capa for his help, then get stuck in a a room barely big enough for the two of you. After only a few minutes of forced proximity, he snaps.

Warnings | NON CON sexual content, 18+, smut, dubcon but technically noncon tbh, forced proximity, vaginal sex, painful sex, forced breeding, crying, idk what else lol.

Words | 1k+

Notes | Don’t ask for specifics on the beginning… I kept it vague for a reason💀 Also I lowkey can’t tell if this is cringy cause I wrote and published it in one day which I never do so I’ll probably come back to it😭 but anyway I hope y’all enjoy

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Yeah I know, but everyone else is busy.”

“I’m busy.” He retorted. 

“With what exactly?” You waited and he huffed, rolling his eyes, making you smirk. “It’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” You led him through the long hallways before finally stopping outside of a door. You used your key to open it, then stepped inside, and he waited impatiently for what you wanted to show him. 

“I just need you to double check this for me. Better safe than sorry, you know?” He mumbled out an agreement, then stepped closer, trying to see. When he still couldn’t quite make it out, he stepped forward even more and your stomach dropped as the light quickly left the room, followed by the door clicking shut. 

“Fuck! Capa— this door locks!” You all but yelled, panic filling your chest. 

“What?” 

“We’re trapped, you fucking idiot,”

“Hey, this is not my fault. You could’ve told me.” You could hear the handle violently jiggling as he tried to open it, despite what you just said. With the door now closed, you couldn’t even turn around to face him because of how small the space was. “Who else did you ask to help you before me?” 

“Not enough people for them to realize we're missing anytime soon.” He cursed under his breath and you let out a heavy sigh. There wasn’t a light in this ‘room’ so he couldn’t even look at what you originally came down here for, which just made all of this worse. 

You shifted your weight, trying not to think about how long you might have to stand here without being able to move. Even though you were praying someone would come, you knew deep down that it would take a couple hours at least. You heard him try the handle again before letting out a heavy breath. You were silent, trying to think of something to say or if you should even say anything at all. When his breathing picked up, you paused, listening for a few more seconds just to be sure. 

“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.” You said, mostly teasingly. 

“That’s not the problem right now.” He muttered, making your brows furrow in confusion. He cursed under his breath and you waited for him to elaborate on what the problem was. Instead, his hands just barely brushed your hips, making you stiffen. When he grabbed them lightly, your breath caught in your throat. 

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t hide the slight quaver in your voice. He ignored you and started rubbing up and down your sides. “Stop it.” You warned, trying to bat his hands away, but barely being able to in the small space. You suddenly felt his breath on your shoulder and he dragged his nose up your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Capa?” You whispered, stomach knotting with fear. He let out a low groan and suddenly gripped your hips, hard enough to make you wince, to keep you from moving. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. Before you could ask what that meant, he was shoving your pants and underwear down, making you yelp and try to pull them back up. His were next, pushing the clothing down just enough to free his cock. 

“Wait,” You tried thrashing, but he pushed you forward against the wall and grabbed your hips again to limit your movement. “Capa, stop!” You felt his cock brush your hole and you stiffened. He moved one hand to line up his cock and the other to cover your mouth. 

He applied some pressure, but wasn’t able to push in, so he used more force until he finally breached your hole. You let out a hoarse scream behind his hand, feeling your eyes burn with tears. That was nothing compared to the burning between your legs though. 

“Fuck— I’m sorry. I just need this…” He said through a breath, only staying still for a moment before starting a brutal pace, making your tears fall. He rutted into you and the hand not on your mouth wrapped around your stomach, holding you still. You clawed at both of his hands and arms, trying to get him to release you. Instead, he just groaned at the pain and fucked you harder. 

“I know… I’m sorry.” He said, as if that could make up for anything. You sobbed violently behind his hand and that only seemed to encourage him, making him fuck you even rougher. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, hot breath fanning your ear. “You feel so fucking good… god— it’s been so long.” 

He humped into you desperately, chasing his own pleasure and ignoring your muffled cries. Even though your body was starting to adjust to make this easier, it still hurt like hell and you already knew you weren’t going to be able to sit comfortably for at least a day or two. He groaned and cursed against your ear as he tightened his grip, fucking you more frenzied now. 

“Oh fuck— I’m already close… I have to fill you.” He said lowly. You let out the loudest scream so far. “I know, I’m sorry, I just need it so fucking bad. I need to come in a tight, hot pussy, I can’t take it anymore.” He whined, holding you tighter. You let out a stifled sob and shook your head.  

“I’m sorry,” He moaned, thrusts becoming more forceful and desperate, “I can’t stop— I can’t pull out, I’m so sorry.” You tried to scream protests at him from behind his hand but nothing you said was coherent. 

He moaned out one last apology before his hips snapped forward, burying his cock deep enough to make your cervix ache. He humped into you as he rode it out, groaning against your ear and squeezing your body tight enough to almost hurt. You felt his cock twitching as warmth filled you, making you let out a strangled whimper. The hand on your mouth dropped so that his arm wrapped around your chest instead, still holding you against his body as you cried silently. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, one last time. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,088

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

PROLOGUE

“It shouldn’t have come to this.” This wouldn’t have happened, if she could just listen to me! I would not have done that, she was suppose to be mine, mine alone. How dare he laid his hands on her. I should’ve just chained her, isolate her, keep her all by myself. If only she kept her curiosity to herself.

Very well then, curiosity does kill the cat. I’ll be having my own fun to chase and to hunt her down, until she admits that every part of her is mine.

CHAPTER 1:

THE SUN

Nothing makes my morning much more delightful than working in a Café that me and my friend own, a smile spread across my face as I greet a customer with delight, “Hello, welcome to Tulipa Purissima. What can I get you today?” I saw a smile from the little girls face as she waved at me and pointed right to the menu of our café.

“Mommy, mommy!” the girl yelled with a high pitched but adoring voice, “I want a strawberry cake!” the girl added, on the other hand—the mother, was busy speaking to her phone while holding the little girls hand. This very much reminded me of how me and my mother were. I let out a soft laugh as the girl was too eager to have her strawberry cake, pulling her mothers sleeve and arm, whining and pushing her. The older woman didn’t flinched nor yelled at the girl, she just pat her head and hold the call, pinching her daughters cheek.

This is so adorable to watch.

After a few exchanged mutters from the mother and daughter, they placed their order and find their seats. Those two really did remind me of my mother and me, how she’ll always take the call either a call from relatives or from her workplace, then we’ll go to a café and I sulk at her from taking too long.

I laughed and passed the order from my friend, who will make and serve the orders. This is how me and my friend, Estrella do and pick our parts, we also switch roles from time to time.

As I serve customers, call out their name to pick up their order, something caught my attention—someone. Group of men dresses in fancy black tuxedo inside the café, they haven’t get anything yet. I assume they were only bystanders, I sigh and look for my friend to make sure, “Estrella?” I called, she hums in response and finishing the last order and gave the receipt to the customer.

“Those men..” I point towards the right side of the back of the café, trying my best not to seem rude to point to customers and not wanting to be find out that I’m talking about them, “they haven’t ordered anything yet, right?” I asked, worry hinted in my voice. Since I feel a bit of intimidation towards of group of men, worse part is that they even dressed up in black expensive tuxedo’s.

My friend took a quick glance and stared at me in the eye, shaking her head and wiping her hands with tissues, “No,” she hums, “I haven’t seen a single one of them come to front and claim their order.” She added, Estrella has a knack for remembering faces of customers for the day and know who’s had ordered and who didn’t, “and they don’t seem like a regular here either.”

I sigh and got out from the counter, “I’ll deal with them, we can’t have bystanders here.” I murmur to myself and to Estrella to hear, she gave a thumbs-up as if it’ll motivate me and have such courage to speak with those dangerous looking men.

There were three to seven people in this table, two on either side of the bench seat and a man in the middle—sweating and fidgeting, as if he’s being threatened by these men. I approach their table, my hands clasp together and I cleared my throat to bring their attention to me, “Hello, gentlemen.” I utter, trying to steady my voice and not stutter or eat my words up. I continue, “I—uh noticed that you guys haven’t order anything here yet and that an atmosphere you bring inside Tulipa Purissima is unsettling, if you all don’t mind, I kindly ask you all to leave.”

A man with dark purple hair and in a short hime cut with lavender highlights, I assume he’s a little older than me but with a baby face like that and how he stood out from the rest of the men, I think I know who’s in charge of the group. He spoke, his tone flat and uninterested, “so we just need to order and you’ll leave us alone?” he asked, his eyes darkening and piercing the more he look at me dead in the eye.

I think I want to curl up into a ball and cry to my mommy.

My lips sealed shut, his voice raspy and husky. I don’t move an inch and I peel my eyes away from his deadly gaze, “uh. I- I mean.” I started stammering, I could feel my heart beating and racing, my legs wanting to give out and run to my friend Estrella.

Help, I’m scared.

He waves his hand lazily, his palm resting his chin and elbow on the table. “Whatever, get me some dark coffee.” He said, tone still flat and uninterested. He turn to his colleagues—or that I assume that were his colleagues, it feels like more a security than old friends…

“You all order some, my treat.” He murmured but it was loud enough to be heard by the others, I took out my handy-dandy notebook and write down all their orders. I’m so glad that I keep this thing all the time with me.

After placing and telling me their order, I noticed the man looking at me. The one in the middle, his eyes big and wide, his hands trembling and fidgeting—as if he’s telling me to help him.

“I don’t want to intrude but,” I said and lean over the table and look at the man, but I don’t lean in too close. “I’m sorry sir but are these gentle folks seems to bother you nor are they intimidating you?” I asked, my tone strong and full of concern.

I could feel a burning sensation at the back of my neck, and I know who’s eyes they were…

Link:

Chapter 2: THE MOON

[moonbaby26]

Title: It Could be Worse (quickie one off)

Doflamingo x GN!Reader. Smutty. Power imbalance, non con, dubious consent. Reader is a slave.

It’s 3:00am. Your beloved King Riku has just rode by chopping down your neighbors while sobbing pathetically. Your house and everyone else’s is on fire. You hear the most menacing laughter that could ever be, rising above the screams.

You look up to see this emerge from the smoke of your former life.

Alarm bells are blasting and red flags are waving in your mind. But your remaining, desperate neighbors begin cheering immediately for their new savior.

This can’t be right, you think to yourself.

No, this is a nightmare.

Your nightmare.

You are promptly enslaved for years to come. But he’s extremely charismatic and he has a way of getting under your skin. You eventually convince yourself that you enjoy the small mercy of carrying his drink tray on those balmy Dressrosan days by his pool. If he pulls you into his lap to spill it all, that is what it is too. And on the nights he drags you up to his room as well, that’s just another service you’re allowed to do for your country.

He tells you that you’re such a good little patriot. And asks what he would ever do without exemplary citizens like yourself. He says these things with your legs around his waist and his sweat against your skin.

It could always be worse. As he flips you over again and a long tongue runs wet up the back of your neck, you think that surely it could always be worse.

You could have become one of Trebol or Diamante’s favorites instead. Or you could have been dead from day one like so many others. But he says you’re fun. He even likes that lingering taste of the pool water as his teeth are pressing briefly into your shoulder next.

You should be honored. You should be flattered. He even remembers your name as he’s soon growling it again with the bed creaking terribly.

He makes you thank him as he strokes you. You must also show your gratitude whenever he lets you have your own release against his bedsheets. That scent of your mutual orgasms is always so distinct. As is the stickiness of the trail of his cum across your back.

When you’ve done your duty and he’s laying down panting, there can be a temporary reprieve. Just a few minutes where he doesn’t look as cruel or frightening. He might even smile at you and grab you by the arm to lay you against his chest.

It’s not affection. He just likes the contact, even if it’s only the sweaty heat of your bodies laying together.

And then that moment will be gone as well. He’ll push you out of his bed because he needs to go shower. He’ll barely look at you as you gather your things and hurry for the door. He always has business calls to make and more important things to get back to, even this late at night.

But you might still hear a chuckle from behind you, though you know better than to ever overextend your stay here.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He taunts you sometimes, with that playful intonation of a question. But really it means you must be there poolside for him again tomorrow. His soldiers would come looking for you if you were not. They would take you from your home at gunpoint. You’d seen it happen to others. They did not come back.

But hey, it could always be worse.

“Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow.” That deep voice stops you just as you were in the hallway and about to close his door.

Yes, it had finally become much worse.

(I type random shit instead of sleeping sometimes. It’s fun, I have no regrets. 🤣)

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

Detriment | Jujutsu Kaisen

A Yuji Itadori / Sukuna x Fem!Reader | ANGST + SMUT

Contents ; Angst, violence, sadism, slight non-con, gore details, voyeurism, and humiliation.

Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Itadori | Hard Dom!Sukuna | Sub!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; Third

Pronouns used ; She/Her

Age Range ; 18+ | College Years

(Wow! What a great way to start this off, huh? Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Grab some snacks if you want and curl up into whatever blanket you got. Listen to some music too, here’s something I recommend as always.)

━ ━°⌜ 始まり ⌟°━ ━ | Translation : The Beginning |

Sorcerors barely have time for love. That was agreed upon everyone who lived in the profession. No one among Jujutsu High could go for a relationship grander than a simple fling or a couple of flirtatious exchanges with someone outside the school.

If they did marry eventually, the couple wouldn’t go without a very rocky path ahead of them. Either one would die in battle and the other would follow suit in depression or it would turn for the worse in causing the pair to resent each other. Barely anything in between.

Succession only came with retiring from sorcery which rarely happened. It was too dangerous to leave the life behind. And for Yuji Itadori, he was trapped there until his life ended. So, with all of that that in mind, why was she on a date?

He was staring at the girl he had a crush on for almost the entire semester leaning her head on the shoulder of Toge Inumaki, sleeping soundly as he patted her. Grief writhed itself in his expression and a couple of tears began to brim the corners of his eyes.

The defeated boy turned around from the sight and laid his forehead on both of his arms, trying to wipe away his heartbreak. While both of his peers, Nobara and Megumi tried their best to rush over to him to spout nonsensical comfort. He was just running away from them not too long ago. The two were acting weird and awkward, hushing things to each other.

When he found out that it was about (Y/N) from the small whisper of her name, he bugged them over and over to let him in on the gossip. Eventually, he gave up and went to find out for himself. He wished he never heard a single murmur now.

Before Itadori knew it, he was full blown sobbing against the brick staircase. He knew he shouldn’t feel this terrible about something that was destined to never happen in the first place. Although, that didn’t change anything on what he felt. Even as both of his classmates watched him have the breakdown. Nothing stopped the rage from coming to him.

Hyperventilating, Yuji stood back onto both feet, mumbling to himself while his reality was shifting into different colors. Something was wrong. He noticed what he was feeling instantly. But, that couldn’t be right. Sukuna had no reason to come out. Why would he waste his time on this?

The loss of control on his emotions gave him a huge disadvantage when trying to hold back the king of curses. It felt like his limbs were being crushed as he fought him. Worst thing about it wasn’t the pain though, it was the fact he could hear him.

“You’re really going to let a man that can’t even speak get her like that, huh?” Sukuna bellowed out in his head, “How pathetic!” So that was it. He was here to taunt him.

If Itadori could, he would beat into his skull all of the anger that was running through his veins currently. But, he was no match for him. He understood that as soon as his body felt numb and all he could do was watch him take over. Once again.

A smirk appeared over the huge frown that was there a second ago, markings appearing and disappearing to signify who was truly present. Both Megumi and Nobara jumped back with their bodies positioned in a fighting stance, bringing out their closest weapons to point them at Sukuna.

They both had a terrified look to their eyes, focused on keeping a safe distance, and guarded for anything that he tried. Although, they also knew that it wouldn’t do to stop him and they’d probably die any minute.

Sweat dripped down from Megumi’s forehead as he shouted at the evil curse, “Sukuna! Return Itadori or else!” He summoned his demon dogs who immediately went to lowering themselves and approaching him slowly. A part of him was worried it was the end already, but he could tell that Sukuna still didn’t have his full potential. He was weak.

Nobara wanted to add in her own demands too, “We aren’t afraid to pummel ourselves into the ground with you until you do.” Even though it was shaky, she held up three nails in each of her fingers, auras of cursed energy embedded in every single one. Her eyes gave off a bit of a crazier look while she grinned back at him.

It was right there that the demon himself clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth several times at them, “Tch, tch, tch…” The red flared in his orbs while his sharp teeth brimmed his bottom lip, letting them soak in his frightening presence.

As much as he wanted to kill them, Itadori was fighting hard on the inside, and he didn’t have enough time before Satoru would show up. That meeting had to wait. So, he decided he would ‘clear the air’ and that was through forcefully grabbing Nobara by the neck; lifting her up while disabling her nails and hammer by using his ability, ‘Dismantle’.

He dug his fingernails into her neck, causing her to grab at his wrist, struggling to breath. Megumi unleashed the demon dogs, the shikigami’s rushing to his legs and opening their jaws to bite. But they didn’t get to latch their teeth in as they were cut into a million pieces in an instant.

Closing his eyes, Sukuna took in a deep inhale and sighed out in satisfaction, “I can smell her. That raw power. No wonder this kid is drawn.” His smirk widened and he cracked his neck, throwing Nobara to the side, and causing her to slide on the concrete before hitting her back on a stone wall.

Megumi yelled out her name, rushing over to her side while Sukuna began walking towards the direction of (Y/N), his hands shoving themselves into his pockets. He continued, “I’m here to give him a hand… And take something that was meant to be mine.” The excitement in his voice never wavered. It increased.

All at once, Megumi threw the rest of his shikigami’s toward him, but none were able to get past his attacks. Every time, they were slashed into tiny pieces and a puddle of blood and guts. The black-haired boy fell to his knees next to Nobara, picking her up in his arms and checking to see if she was okay.

Nothing else stopped him from approaching the girl anymore. Instead, he got to her. Inumaki tried to say something before he could reach them, but it was too late because by the time he opened his mouth, Sukuna opened his domain.

“Domain Expansion. Malevolent Shrine.”

Everything was shrouded in black. Then the piles of bones surrounded him, leaving him on top of the throne of the fossils left behind from his victims, sitting like he was a king. He was, in terms.

(Y/N) stared up at Sukuna with terror in her expression, stumbling backwards until she fell onto her knees. “No… No… What’s going on?” she looked down at her palms shaking, her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to level herself.

That didn’t work. She was left freaking out. Who wouldn’t be? This was guaranteed death. She was facing her end. And it was all because she was too weak. There was no way she would come out of this. She was facing the top of the food chain in regards to power. But, why?

“You have something of mine,” as if answering her question, he declared that out loud. His fingers pressing into the side of his forehead as he observed her with amusement. The robes he was wearing shifted when he began to stand, scaling down the mountain using all the skulls as stairs.

(Y/N) knew what he was talking about once he said it, putting her right hand over her left to cover the finger she kept. They had stitched it onto her body a long time ago. It was cruel attempt at keeping it safe. But, it worked. Until now.

He chuckled, “You can’t seriously be wanting to keep that thing on you forever, (Y/N)?” Using the last bits of bones to dismount off of the pile onto the ground. He was leveled with her. Sukuna was in front of her.

She heard of him millions of times, especially since she was the keeper of one of his fingers, but she always liked to think of it as some stupid horror story. Forgetting how real it was made this ten times harder for her to swallow. It was worse when she became friends with Itadori considering how sweet he was. The growing crush on him was beyond terrifying. Exactly for this reason. Wait, what was the reason for him being here?

He knelt down, gripping her chin with two fingers, his sharp nails poking underneath her jaw while tilting her head to make her look him in the eyes. Glaring down at her with that same crooked smile, he muttered out a question, “You like having my power, hm?”

The panicking girl didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t have one, really. It was a yes, possibly. But, at the same time, she knew who it came from. And seeing him here didn’t convince her to want it anymore. He couldn’t have it though. No way in hell was she going to hand it over.

Sukuna seemed to pick up on this because he started to gradually laugh louder and louder, his eyes widening along with the the second pair on his cheeks. (Y/N) watched him, paralyzed out of fear, and shook when he cackled out, “You know what?! I’m feeling in a generous mood today! Itadori, you watching this?”

It looked like he was shouting at no one. But, she knew that the original boy that she was friends with was witnessing everything and that made her sick to her stomach. Sick at what this monster could do to him.

Then without hesitation, as if he got his answer, her hand was raised into the air and she wasn’t able to pull it away. Sukuna bit off the entire tip of the finger that was already connected to her nerves, making her scream at the top of her lungs, and writhe in agony.

He swallowed the chunk and slammed a palm onto her head, pushing her down into the concrete of his domain as it felt like knives sliced across her thighs and arms. “What were you doing with Inumaki?” his voiced lowered while asking.

That was confusing more than anything to hear. Why would he ask that? Why was he concerned about that? So many questions flew through her head but she had to respond, his impatience was obviously short from how hard he was gripping her. She choked on her sentence, managing to piece it together, “He was teaching me how to control cursed energy better. I passed out from trying too hard…”

A hum vibrated out of his throat, his hand no longer crushing her head in while he laughed manically for another moment. “Ohoho, that’s gotta be the best thing I’ve heard all my years alive! And to think, the kid was so worried about you, he was breaking his own soul!”

Whatever Sukuna was talking about, it was hard for her to understand. Hell, she couldn’t make sense of it even after he had that fit with himself. Instead, she was left to deal with the confusion as the cursed man moved forward with what else he had planned.

Each piece of her clothing was cut off of her, shredded onto the floor, and leaving (Y/N) naked. She couldn’t even feel it happening. It was the cold that made her get what he was doing.

But, there was nothing for her to attempt. She would die if she refused. And what he said, it was right. He was feeling in a good mood if this is what he was deciding to do to her. She’s heard of the torture he’s committed, the massacres, what he was doing was simply nothing compared to the rest. And Itadori. If he was witnessing her being raped and it was by his body, it would be horrible for him after it’s over.

(Y/N) had to save Yuji. So, as Sukuna dug his nails into her hips and stripped his robes off, she let out one last request, “Can it please be Itadori first if you’re going to do this? Please…” He stopped what he was doing automatically.

The King of Curses ended up thinking about it despite the brutal urge he had to destroy them mentally, hearing the shocked voice of the trapped boy wondering what she just suggested.

He had to admit. It was amusing to see the guy in such a state. Snickering, he obliged and said his last words before letting him take back control, “For now, I will. This comes with a price. I hope you know that, (Y/N)”

Itadori gasped when he slipped back into his own body, looking down at her and coming face-to-face with his naked crush’s back. A huge blush swept across his cheeks and he stuttered in surprise and panic, “He let me? H-He hurt… He killed Megumi’s shikigami’s… He.. did this to you.. I did this. I let him. I wasn’t-“

Before he could spiral further, she reached up to him and turned to face toward his chest, pressing her lips on his. He needed to stop thinking if he was going to succeed. She couldn’t afford much more time with him, they were on a limit.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and she parted from him to encourage, “Do it. Just fuck me, Itadori. Don’t think about anything. I want you to be the one, not him.” That was enough for him to listen.

Positioning himself awkwardly, he pressed against her folds to prepare her and himself. There was so much to worry about and so much for him to do. But, here he was, having sex with the one girl he’d been fantasizing about for weeks. Yeah, it was great having her like this. What about Inumaki? Everyone? What could he do?

Itadori finally got to pushing himself inside, his pupils wide, and his jaw hanging open as he panted out a couple of noises. It was the best feeling he’s ever had. Warm and fit perfectly around him. Just like he thought it would. But better.

He criticized himself in his thoughts, ‘You shouldn’t be enjoying this.’ He tried to put himself down over and over. But, it was ignored by a thrust. And then another. And another. Until he was at a pace that made both of them stuck in the act. Her hands wrapped around his neck, matching her legs as she gave up.

Her body felt like it was going limp, loosely hanging on as her (E/C) eyes were looking up at him in a daze. The aggression in him instinctively increased and before he processed what he was doing, he was pouring every emotion he had into ramming her. She stuttered out moans from the impact each time, her nails finding themselves latching into his back, and clawing down slowly; blood trailing right behind.

There was twinges of pain because of how careless he was becoming and that rage seemed to only be getting worse. She summed it up to him venting out what he could considering they were both in an impossible situation. But, when he leaned forward to the crook of her neck, she heard the rasp of the voice she was dreading to hear, “Time’s up.”

Once they switched, (Y/N) noticed the difference immediately between the two of them. His hand shot to her neck and he dragged his black nails against it, teasing her by softly squeezing at first. Even though that squeeze was still tight enough to make her choke.

Sukuna used his teeth to rip into her shoulder, biting deep into her skin until blood was rushing down the crevices of her chest. She let out a piercing scream that started to crack underneath the pressure of his palm.

He was ruthless. There was no time to adjust to the strength he exerted, only time to cry. She couldn’t see what he was doing to her, but she felt it. And it was so intense that her legs went numb. The sounds of his hips colliding with hers was a loud and sharp slap. Red marks were left on the inner corners of her thighs and exactly where he was aiming all of his force.

When he pulled away from attacking her left side, half of it was covered in a sea of red, all from the amount of times he had sunk his canines in. Pleasure tried to ease the ache for you, it never succeeded because of his cruel treatment.

Any time she moaned, another slice from his technique would cut at her body. And despite her losing so much blood, she was still awake. Hanging on by a thread. That thread being Itadori. She could see a mix of displeasure, sadness, anger, satisfaction, and pure insanity all within the red eyes that took place over his honey brown ones. She really missed that color.

Her eyes were starting to close no matter what after a couple of minutes trying to fight the response to his abuse. But, before they shut, a sound of multiple footsteps stumbling in the domain made her snap her head toward them.

Inumaki, Nobara, and Megumi were looking back at her in devastation. Her pupils shrunk, eyes went wide, and she shrieked out to them, “NO! GET OUT-“

Not even a second thought to it, (Y/N) released her technique, ‘Barrier’, and both Nobara and Inumaki were protected from Sukuna. Except for Megumi. She didn’t have enough in her. He instantly got slashed across the chest, staining his navy black uniform with red, and causing him to fall back.

Megumi Fushiguro was the first put in critical condition.

The skewered girl cried as she was picked up by her hair off of the ground and slammed onto a manifested desk of what resembled flesh. She was stuck staring at her two classmates, exposed and defiled.

Nobara shouted at the top of her lungs, “You sick evil bastard! Let go of her or I’ll shove nails into-” She couldn’t finish before she was incapacitated by his technique. The worst cut being the one on her arm, almost severing it in half and leaving her to grab at it to make sure it didn’t.

Nobara Kugisaki was the second.

(Y/N) tried to plead at Sukuna, hoping that anything she said would convince him to stop, “YOU CAN HAVE ME! NOT THEM! DON’T KILL THEM! PLEASE!”

His narrow sadistic eyes flickered from Inumaki to her back, swiping a tongue across his lips as he chuckled darkly, “What? You want me to save your little boyfriend?” By the sound of that, it was like he was jealous. But, what she was hearing wasn’t correct. She had no relationship with Inumaki and how was he jealous?

Using that, she corrected him, deciding that sparing time with conversation was the route to go, “I have no feelings for Toge… Why are you suggesting it?” Grunts spilled in the middle of her sentence but she was heard.

And he answered with a bloodthirsty grin, “Word got around. Being cuddled up next to someone in broad daylight isn’t friendly, is it?” It was hard to respond with him continuing to fuck her, especially when it was directly in front of Inumaki and Nobara. The shame she was experiencing was like no other and she could no longer look up at their faces.

So, she ended up sobbing by the time she could let it out, “That wasn���t! Anything! I just fell asleep! I JUST FELL ASLEEP!” Her cries grew louder and more desperate, the cursed speech user feeling the exact same way as he ran for them. He couldn’t just watch her die like this. He couldn’t.

Pulling down the neck cover he had, (Y/N) shook her head at the sight of Toge and panicked. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t shut her eyes and watched the white-haired boy shout out a command, “ESCAPE!”

Instantly, she was lifted from Sukuna’s grasp into the air by an invisible force, looking down in surprise at Megumi and Nobara following with. She wished she hadn’t though as she witnessed Inumaki sputtering out blood and collapsing to the ground, limp. That terrible grin never left his face as he glanced up at them being sent out of his domain, winking at (Y/N) like he was telling her, ‘See you later.’

Toge Inumaki was the last.

When everyone made it outside and onto the grass, all of the Jujutsu Sorceror’s were working on getting Sukuna under control again. Gojo being the one to relocate the students to aid while forcing his way into the domain that vanished seconds later.

She won’t ever forget the look on Itadori’s face, covered in her blood, and the disgust in his eyes the moment he locked them with hers. His hands were resting on his lap in front of him and thankfully, his clothes were back to the way they should be. But, it was like the spark in his soul faded. She understood that what Sukuna had planned, worked. From then on, they both were never going to forget what happened.

Yuji Itadori will cease all contact with (Y/N) (L/N).

[xodarling]

My little Bronya. - xodarling

includes: NON-CON, kidnapping, yandere!reader, obsession, stalking, g!p reader, sub!bronya, knife play, cocolia’s alive and well, masturbation, lowercase writing, riding, infantilization kinda, breeding kink, throat fucking, praise, impregnation, virgin!bronya

a/n: bobby’s back 👹 (and worse than b4 sorry if it feels rushed)

“ah.. ah..”

loud squelching sounds bounce off the walls of this dark and dusty basement, there are cobwebs on every corner of the room and the air in the room is heavy, making it feel like you were suffocating every time you inhaled.

those wet, sticky sounds get faster and faster, with each squelch another loud pant vibrates throughout the room. the sound of chair legs scraping the concrete ground are deafening along with the a very specific sound.

click!

small clicking sounds emanating through the room, then it stops and is replaced by a loud groan and even faster squelching.

“bronya.. bronya..”

a shaky voice repeats like a prayer, long shaky groans fill up the emptiness of the room. the dark room being lit up slightly by the brightness of a camera.

the camera roll gives the dark, dusty, and heavy basement some brightness. the basement was mostly empty except for a cork board on one side of the room, all the pictures are of the same person, bronya. the camera isn’t any different, the photos saved in the camera are all bronya.

“fuck!”

the sounds of a loud and desperate yelp, the chair pushed back a little and a loud slam of the wooden table all echo throughout the room.

the camera screen gets dirtied by the thick spurts of cum, the sounds of somebody bucking their hips against the wooden table echos throughout the basement, the sounds of grunts and groans get replaced by pants and sighs.

the sound of a tissue being pulled out the tissue box echo again, some tired pants also vibrate through the dusty walls. soon enough, you gain your senses, looking down at your a softening dick and then at the photo the camera’s showing.

a photo of bronya showering that you somehow managed to get. your dick hardens as you stare at the photo before you let out a groan and then a sigh. you are absolutely delusional and insane, your obsession with the future supreme guardian is getting out of hand.. and jacking off is no longer enough.

it was hard to find bronya alone and vulnerable, but you memorized the entirety of bronya’s home at this point, so sneaking in as she slept wasn’t too hard. you carried her like she was made of porcelain, even leaving soft kisses on her cheeks to indulge in your desires just a small amount.

sneaking past several silvermane guards and random civilians, you made it to your average sized home and went down into the dingy basement; all with bronya in your arms. you made sure to be gentle as you tied her to the chair, not wanting to hurt her yet but making sure it’s tight enough so she can’t get out.

you bring in another chair and shift it to be right in front of bronya, the wooden legs scraping against the concrete. shimmying your sweats down so your dick gets freed from the fabric. all you have to do is wait for her to wake up, best thing to do is sit there and jack off.

her eyelids flutter as her head hangs low, bronya realizes she’s not back home, she’s sitting, tied up, in some dusty gray room. bronya lifts up her head and her eyes widen when she sees you, face all flushed and your dominant hand pumping your shaft.

“good, i was starting to get impatient.” you sit up, the chair pushing back from your action. bronya was about to question but you pulled her head back and placed your swollen tip on her pouty lips, “suck.” you said. bronya hesitated for a moment before starting to leave kitten licks at the head of your dick.

bronya’s a smart girl, as she licked your tip and started to engulf more of your inches, she had an idea to bite your shaft; fortunately, you already predicted she would try something smart like that. you pulled a knife from the pockets in your sweater and placed the blade on her throat.

it all happened so fast. the blade hitting bronya’s neck and you forcefully shoving your dick all the way inside her mouth, causing her to gag with tears brimming her eyes. “bite and i’ll slit your throat.” you say with the angriest tone you can muster, you weren’t actually mad at her.. you were just trying to scare her.

and it worked actually, bronya shut her eyes and just took your fucking of her throat like a good girl. you gripped onto her silver hair and started to quicken your pace, “my little bronya, my baby.”, you whisper as she gags on your shaft, drool dripping down your balls and onto her thighs.

you comb your fingers through her soft bangs, bucking your hips into her mouth. hot tears pile in bronya’s eyes as she keeps them shut to not take in what’s happening, visually, “such a tight throat.” you whisper, pulling your shaft out and lightly slapping her face with it. “what a good girl you are, my little bronya.”

her face scrunches up when you do that. to her, your smell is disgusting, absolutely dreadful. the blade of the knife cuts through each of the ropes that are keeping bronya sat, you pull her up by her arm and then replace her in the wooden seat. your hands find their home on her clothed ass, groping her from above her pajama pants.

“been wanting to do this for so long..” you murmur and lean into rub your nose against her rear. bronya’s body tenses up with disgust as your calloused fingers slip under her pants and pull them down, plain white underwear being exposed. your dominant hand moves to your shaft as you stroke yourself slowly and the other pulls her panties up, exposing more of her soft ass.

your hand snakes it’s way to covered cunt and rubs her slit up and down, even though bronya’s all tense and uncomfy, her panties are dampening with each rub. after a while, you slowly pull down her underwear and push the small of her back to expose her bare cunt to you, dripping and swollen, just like you imagined. you can barely conceal a groan when you see it.

bronya’s heart begins to race even more when you pull her to your lap, your cock resting against her wet slit. your non-dominant hand still holds the knife and you wrap your hands around her waist, kissing the skin below her ear and whispering sweet nothings to her. “my baby, bronya. a baby for my baby..”

bronya can’t even process your words before your tip is slowly pressing inside her, you let out a groan and bronya lets out a strained and stifled whimper. “so much tighter than I thought.” you whisper before moving your hips, your shaft going inch by inch into her walls, your pre-cum oozes out your tip and stains her insides.

bronya lets out winces and whimpers, her walls being stretched beyond their limit, you coo in response whispering sweet praises into her ear while kissing her neck. patience is your strongest virtue and the slow insertion going inch by inch wasn’t cutting, so you grab her hips harshly and forcefully push her down your cock, a sharp shrill leaving her throat.

just a little bit of blood leaves her cunt which makes you groan as it mixes with your pre, you throw the knife in your hand into the middle of the basement and dig your fingers into her hips, leaving her no time to get used to anything and immediately starts to pound away brutally.

“ah-! wait! stop t-this, at o-once!” she yelps out, her fingers dig into the armrests of the dingy, wooden chair, tears begin to brim her silver eyes, the pain and pleasure was overwhelming and unbearable. all you do is moan at her protests, your hips moving at an unreasonable pace.

bronya writhes around in your grasp, her head being thrown back and her nails digging scratching the armchairs, your hands grab the back of her knees and pull her legs up, bronya moans at the new angle of your thrusts. you let out growls and groans, the force of your pounding sending bronya’s upwards a little.

this cowgirl position was boring you. it was fun hearing her bronya whine in protest and squirm on your lap but you need more. you let out a scoff and then sit up from the chair, bronya lets out a confused whine and then a pained one when you reverse your positions, her sitting on the chair with her legs on your shoulders and you standing in front.

there’s no intermission or pause for her to get used to this new position before you return to your animalistic thrusts, with a newfound vigor. “oh, ffucckk..” you throw your head back and groan out with no limitations, her wet, warm walls and her cross-eyed expression send fire into your balls.

your head was clouded with lust and desire, your tip hitting that spongy spot inside her was addicting and your shaft was beginning to tighten, a sign of your impending orgasm. “yeah, gonna fill you up.” you said between chuckles and groans, “gonna fill my baby up, gonna make you all big and round for me..”

bronya shakes her head and lets out a whine. she feels used, like she’s nothing but a hole for you to fuck and breed. just the thought of going back to her mother, if you do let her go, with a round stomach filled with your child made her sob loudly. the pain from your brutal thrusts was intense and the sudden shock of waking up to this left the usual independent and strong bronya weak.

speaking of her mother, the silvermane guards probably noticed that the future supreme guardian was gone. cocolia without a doubt sent all of her men to search for her precious daughter, not knowing what’s happening to her. bronya begins to sob uncontrollably, which only turns you on more.

“keep cryin’ for me, baby, i’m close.” you murmur, biting your lip and watching those diamond tears fall down her elegant face. bronya’s covers her face as her sobs get more violent along with your thrusts, the sound of skin on skin smacking echoes through the basement. everything is just pushing you closer to the edge.

your fingers dig into hips, your eyebrows knitting together, you want this to last forever, it feels so good you don’t want it to end. unfortunately, it does and with one final thrust you let out a loud moan and throw your head back. “fuck, take it, take it all.” you growl, aggressively fucking yourself through your ecstasy.

the girlish and shrill yelp bronya let out when your sperm filled her up was something unheard of to any soul until you, the intense and violent feeling pushed bronya to an unwanted orgasm as well. her legs tremble on your shoulders and her hand fly from her face to the armrests of the chair.

it feels like forever until you stop moving and finally pull out. her body trembles like a leaf and meek whimpers and protests leave her mouth. your eyes trail from her red and teary face, to her heaving chest, to her exposed cunt, watching it drip with your cum made you hard again.

“so perfect.” you murmur, placing your hand on her stomach and rubbing it. “wha-..? stop..” she murmurs, trying to squirm but gives up quickly after seeing your once again hardening cock.

it’ll take a while for the silvermane guards to find you, they won’t suspect some introverted innocent lady to be the one to kidnap the heir of the supreme guardian. so in the mean time.. why not have some more fun?

“let’s hope that they find you soon, my little bronya.” you chuckle and slowly insert yourself back inside her tight cunt, her hands fly to your shoulders and she lets out a whine, feeling her stomach bulge out a little from all the cum and your dick.

all she can do is sob and pray someone hears this, but from what it looks like, it’ll take a while.

THIS IS SO BAD IM SORRRY

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar Chapter 2

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 2 (NSFW) ~6.7k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala felt murky and lost, in a place vaguely familiar.

It looked like the ocean, like the one she had marveled at when all the clans came together under multiple leadership, most importantly the Sully family, but it was incredibly dark.

“Tala” A light feminine voice called out within the depths.

“Kiri!” Tala felt like crying, she reached for her but for some reason their fingers wouldn’t touch.

Kiri’s intelligent round eyes that normally glistened petal-yellow now dilated with worry.

“Tala, can you hear me? Where are you?” She couldn’t hear her.

Tala mouthed carefully the location of the scouting party’s attack. “Kol’iluen Hills, Kol’iluen Hills!”

Kiri watched her lips thoughtfully, understanding.

The Tawkami woman paused, should she even say anything about Neteyam? What could she say, when he was so different, so changed?

Kiri noticed her friend’s pained expression and smiled reassuringly. She had to tell her.

“Ne-te-yam--is–a-live”

When the Omaticayan girl’s expression morphed into one of shock and confusion, Tala knew she understood and her expression remained pained. Kiri had a special connection to Eywa, surely she would figure out what happened to him, how to help him. Much more than Tala could.

Suddenly the dream felt freezing and Kiri’s image disappeared before her eyes without a word more.

“Kiri!”

Tala gasped loudly, her body tensed and the firs thing she noticed was how cold she was.

She had been drugged and anesthetized, she had done it to herself before as an experiment but the tawtute recipe left her feeling so much worse upon awakening.

’Hello? Can you hear me? Are you alright?’

Tala surveyed her new home: three dark concrete walls and a cage door with thick bars. On the other side was just a massive hallway lit by stinging light. When she tried getting up, a weight held her down, metallic smooth cuffs secured on each wrist. She grimaced, her ear was sore too.

“Hello?” She whispered, throat dry.

“Here, here.” 

A thin hand waved at her from the corner of the cage, they also wore these cuffs. Tala reached out to brush the owner’s four fingers before holding it. Though strangers, they were both na’vi, and that was comfort enough.

“​​Oel ngati kameie, I am Orlek’an te Yokelk’ita of the Anurai.”

“​​Oel ngati kameie, Orlek’an, I am Li’tala te Eyay Engk’ita of the Tawkami. How long have you been here my sister?”

“I do not know, is it still spring?” 

“No, it’s summer.”

Orlek’an sighed. “I am a craftswoman, I was taken while foraging alone. There were others, but they’ve been moved, vanished, I am the only one who returns here. Are you a warrior, Li’tala?” 

“Please, call me Tala. And barely, I am an alchemist, but the war required more warriors. What do the tawtutes make you do here?”

“Labor, collecting, identifying, crafting which cannot be replicated by their tawtute machines,” Her voice was deep, but so, so weary. Tala sighed, frustrated, then gingerly felt around her right ear, fingers finding a squarish tag, pierced into the skin.

“What is this on my ear, this thing? Do you have one too?”

Orlek’an barked a humorless laugh. “Tags, so vrrteps can tell their false na’vi apart from the real na’vi. They can’t tell the difference.”

Tala continued to inspect herself. She pressed her palms against the scarring on her neck, not quite healed, definitely not treated. There was no ache, it didn’t seem infected, which was the only silver lining. At least a day had passed, maybe two.

She seethed once she remembered Neteyam’s face.

Suddenly the doors to the hall boomed open and loud footsteps charged into the room. A tawtute wearing an exo-pack and a long white coat and a dreamwalker soldier stopped in front of Tala’s cell.

“Finally awake, huh? Get this one.” The dream walker opened the cage door, making both Tala and Orlek’an hiss at the intrusion. The tawtute rolled his eyes. “Just great, fresh meat.” Tala read the name on his ID: L. Hanson. Hanson turned to the dreamwalker.

“I don’t have time for this shit, get her up.”

“You could say please.”

“Please, Patty.” The dreamwalker smirked and approached Tala, who had buried herself in the corner of her cell, pupils tiny and menacing. Patty raised her hands in defense.

“You scratch at me, those bracelets will shock the Eywa out of you if you do. No sudden moves.” She said in stilted na’vi. Cautiously, Tala stood up and nodded.

The cuffs magnetized and forced her arms together with a loud clack. Tala scowled deeper when Patty simply shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll get used to it.”

Tala grumbled to herself, she felt even more helpless than before now with her hands trapped together. As she followed the pair outside her cell, she casted a look behind her, able to catch the bright glint of copper eyes. Orlek’an. Tala waved her tail goodbye as the Anurai woman tried to give a comforting smile.

The doors opened with another slam and Tala found herself nearly blinded by the infernally bright vrrtep light fixtures.

“Move along, don’t got all day.” Patty sharply elbowed her back and Tala stumbled forward.

Lab 08. Ventilation Chamber. Electric 7B. The place was so massive and Tala committed the path and signages to memory. It was child’s play, as it was to any young alchemist. The place was crawling most with Recombinant and dreamwalkers, the humans she did glimpse at all wore either exo-packs or white hazmat suits.

After walking down the maze of Bridgehead, they finally came upon a darkened laboratory, Lab 12. Plants and samples were kept bright and encased in clear glass cases. Patty pushed Tala onto a tiny wheeled stool and then took a seat by the door.

“Understand English?” Hanson asked gruffly, also sitting down. He tinkered with his digital pad but Tala’s eyes wandered, there seemed to be only two other tawtute scientists working at opposite corners. Shiny shock batons strapped to their white hazmat suits.

“Hey!” Hanson slammed his fist on the desk but it didn’t shock Tala much. The muted thump was like that of a na’vi child’s tantrum rather than anything of threat.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“Fucking finally. Don’t wanna deal with this piece of shit translator.” Hanson grumbled to himself and Tala could hear the faint snickers behind her.

Droids came over to the table before Tala. For the next few hours, that’s all she did, she sat and listed out names of plants, herbs, roots, leaves, etc. With how monotonous the work was, sometimes she would pretend not to know words in English just to see Hanson curse and uselessly finagle his translator pad, which was indeed a piece of shit. This brought some entertainment to both her and Patty, and the guard herself seemed content to stay seated by the door.

After hours of what felt even more mundane than weaving, which she unfortunately despised, she was finally allowed to leave after Hanson waved her off like a nuisance.

Patty held her gun securely as she made Tala walk ahead of her. Seeing how the dreamwalker preferred to painfully jab her body whenever they needed to turn, Tala let her mind wander. She thought about the poison affecting Neteyam.

What was the efficacy of her scent? Did it have an active effect that persisted even without close proximity? Or was he just baring with it? How long would it be effective for once she was absent? Did it do more than ‘help with headaches’?

Her head was filled with so many potential hypotheses that her neck was suddenly yanked back to stop her from crashing into someone.

A large recombinant solder stood tall over both women and he turned, a strange glint in his eye. Patty’s back straightened.

“Evening, Private. Done for the day?”

“Yes, Corporal Halloway, sir. Just escorting the newbie back to her cell now.”

Corporal Halloway leered at Tala, his interest was evident and Tala felt goosebumps on her neck. However, a chance was a chance, and there was no reason to only count on Corporal Tom for her survival and eventual escape. Halloway seemed at least he’d be simpler to talk to than the whole paradoxical mess that is Neteyam’s psyche.

He stepped forward and hummed nonchalantly as if he wasn’t already fucking her in his head.

“You take off, Private. I’ll make sure the prisoner gets back, secure and sound.”

Patty saluted and Tala was left alone with the Recom soldier, her arms shifted uncomfortably, sore from having been forced together the entire day. Halloway smelled disgusting and she had to school her expression to keep meek and wide-eyed to not gag.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let ol’Johhny take good care of you.” He said with a smug grin.

Now she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

He led her down different hallways, much emptier than the ones she’s been in before.

It was when Halloway slowed down to grab at her ass that Tala was wondering if this was a good idea. His scent was strangely minty, and he smelled more like the musty tawtute walls of the facility than anything.

“Don’t be shy now. I promise I’ll show you a real good time.” He prodded, squeezing her ass cheek firmly. Tala recoiled but nodded, biting her lip to appear enticed, and hoped he at least knew how to fuck.

She could smell him before she could see him, sunlillies and bark mixed with gunpowder and she grimaced at the unnatural addition. Halloway looked up.

“Yo, Tommy! Training’s already over?” He asked breezily as his fellow corporal stalked towards him, Neteyam’s expression was unreadable as usual.

He nodded and Tala ignored the feeling of his eyes burning into the side of her head.

“That’s right. What’ve you got here?” Corporal Tom asked in an even tone.

“Hmm, just something sweet. Need something to help me sleep like a baby, you know?”

“Hmm.”

Corporal Tom squeezed Tala’s free shoulder, standing opposite of Halloway.

“But I want this particular treat. Been looking forward to it all day. How about you look for something else.” It wasn’t a question.

Neteyam’s gaze was extremely unsettling, eyes barely masking a foul mood and violent intent. Halloway raised his eyebrow at him, confused, and glanced between the two na’vi. After a beat of silence, Halloway raised both hands in peace.

“Alright, since you want it so bad, you can have her. It’s my turn next time though!” Halloway conceded and walked away lazily. Tala felt her spirit and ego droop, that was it? Was she not worthy of even a little bit more reluctance? When the Recom walked out of earshot, she turned to Neteyam quite haughtily.

“Surely you knew you’d have to share, yes?” She said with an unamused look on her face. Neteyam’s cockblocking was going to be a problem in her chances of escape.

Instead of answering, he grabbed Tala by the neck and pushed her into a room on their left, knocking the air out of her lungs as she landed on what seemed to be a bed. Her head hit the wall and she winced, cradling it. The blaring lights didn’t take it any better, it was harsh and the bed was barely even that, extremely stiff. A near claustrophobic, windowless room.

Halloway had intended to bring her to one of the rutting/heat rooms, closed off from the rest of the facility and meant for the growing number of Recombinant na’vi. It was private and soundproof, most used it for more casual purposes than it was designed for.

Tala glared up at Neteyam only to see huge pools of sunlight, his pupils intensely compacted and focused on her. He seemed very territorial for someone who considered her a toy.

She kneeled up quickly on the bed, intrigued.

“Did you really want to keep me to yourself?” She cooed, almost laughing. Tala leaned against Neteyam who stood, hands and face resting on his toned stomach as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Maybe not entirely hopeless.

“Watch yourself. Halloway smells like shit and that defeats the purpose of you.” Neteyam sneered, shoving Tala back. She rolled into a stand and gracefully draped her trapped arms around his head with a coy smile, bewildering Neteyam. He had half a mind to just kick her out of Bridgehead and be done with her, migraines be damned. 

“If you wanted me to be all yours, I prefer being courted with beaded tops and food.” Tala was positively glowing, her smile was full of mirth.

“I changed my mind. I’d rather shoot you.”

She giggled. Neteyam looked at her like she was crazy and his body felt hot, he attributed it to anger from her insolence. He growled as he grabbed at the backs of her legs and landed both of them on the top of the bed. Her linked arms made it impossible for her to move away.

“Hey-!” Tala yelped, the back of her head stung hitting the hard pillow.

Neteyam kissed her hard, sick of her speaking. The kiss had them both opening their mouths wide, fangs clacking, their arousals grinding against each other. The friction made Tala arch her back and moan breathily.

To his intense displeasure that moan just turned into more airy giggling.

“But what about tomorrow, or the day after that? Are you going to see me every day, is that it?” Tala asked mockingly, her tail swishing back and forth cheekily. Neteyam said nothing and smirked.

Tala’s smile dropped and her tail stilled. There was no way this skxawng was serious.

Neteyam scoffed then dove his face over the crook of her neck to inhale more of her spicy-sweet scent. He bit at her neck, right under her jaw, and suckled her skin, she shivered and moaned. 

“I’m not surprised you already need a reminder of what you are.”

Before Tala could process his words, suddenly he was ripping her arms off his head and manhandled her to land on the floor on her ass.

“Ow! You fucking brute, you could’ve-“ She started to curse but froze when quick hands practically ripped off the metal buckles of his tactical harness and zipped down his pants just enough for his heavy cock to hang free.

Tala was glad she was on her knees because they were already feeling weak looking at the size of it.

Thick-vein and ribbed, Tala nearly cursed Eywa for making this particular creation so infuriatingly perfect. His tip was already leaking precum that smelled so unfortunately divine to her nose.

Neteyam’s ego naturally inflated as he watched her practically salivate over his cock, not even fully hard. He smirked as he taunted her. “Be a good girl and maybe I’ll even fuck you with it.”

Her clunt clenched around nothing and Tala could feel her cheeks flush even deeper and she bit her lips shut.

“Open.” He rasped heatedly and with his other hand, he lifted the tip to her lips. She blinked up at him through her long eyelashes and paused. His pupils were already blown wide black, looking more and more like he wanted to devour her whole, and her entire body felt flushed under his concentrated stare.

She let her eyelids drop and held eye contact as her tongue slowly lapped at his tip for a taste.

Salty, his musk was dizzying her. He kept still.

Tala opened her jaw wider to take the in head slowly.

Neteyam yanked her head forward and held onto her with both hands. He let out a long groan feeling her throat spasm and squeeze his length in her panic. His hips started moving slowly, uncaring for how much she was choking on his thick length.

“Fuck…” He breathed out quietly over her muffled whimpers.

Tears beaded on Tala’s eyelashes at the sudden burn in her throat and her hands flew to his clothed thighs, clawing onto them for dear life as Neteyam started fucking her mouth. He leveraged her head in time with his hips, making her nose hit his pelvis each time, ignoring every gag.

Tala tried her best to relax her throat, laying her tongue flat against the underside of his cock, though her adaptability only earned her insults.

“Such a slut. You’re used to this, aren’t you?” He growled tauntingly and pulled out his cock almost all the way before slamming it back into her windpipe. She screamed around his hard cock, the vibrations making him rut while the sound stroked his ego. His eyes were open, enthralled in watching her fall apart and choke, uselessly trying to squirm and push away from him. Precum and drool dribbled from the sides of her swollen lips and Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone.

“You’re a toy, Tala, my toy. And I’ll use my toy whenever I want.” Neteyam chuckled darkly but Tala could barely hear at this point. His cock was bruising her throat, her eyes were watering nonstop and her head was spinning.

His moans and grunts filled the room, he’s not sure how he was able to keep this long without Tala’s mouth. It was tight and wet, and it felt so good to shut her up. Tala worked her tongue to massage the underside, she couldn’t help moaning as she felt every hard ridge of his cock. Her tewng was soaked through even despite the abuse of her mouth. He could smell her so clearly, her arousal made him enjoy her mouth all the more.

“You only exist for me now.” Neteyam muttered with a wicked smile. He then stilled, holding Tala’s head down. Her eyes were darting up at him and his figure, yet he just waited. He waited for her fingers to start trembling and dug into his clothes thighs. Waited for her to try forcing her head back against his grip. Waited for her drool to overflow, her whimpers to get louder and louder, her throat to convulse-

“Do you understand, ma’fil(my toy)?”

Tala nodded desperately.

Neteyam let her head go and she lurched backward, coughing out drool and precum. She gasped and shuddered, tears running down her cheeks and even her tail was too weak to raise itself from the ground. He graciously allowed a few more seconds before he started pulling her head towards him again.

Tala resigned to her current fate, dizzied and hot from him abusing her throat. He liked her like this, so much more compliant. Neteyam loved the way her eyes rolled back every time she gasped for breath and how all that drool was running down her neck, to the floor, and dripping from her tits.

“Good girl… there’s hope for you yet.” He muttered, now his hips adding more force every time she sunk down to his hilt. She moaned a whine, her mouth felt fucking heavenly.

He let out tawtute curses under his breath and kept Tala’s head still, snapping his cock into her mouth in fast strokes. 

Finally, Neteyam let out a long curse and froze, eyes snapped shut as he came in the back of her throat. Tala’s eyes rolled back, she just couldn’t swallow, she couldn’t breathe, and her body was twitching and desperate for air.

When he finally pulled out of her mouth, Tala collapsed forward, coughing and leaking cum from her swollen lips.

There were barely any thoughts in her head, only the taste of his cum and the unsatisfied throbbing of her pussy.

Neteyam tugged her head up by her hair, he wanted to see her face.

Eywa, she looked so wrecked, he could tell she was barely even registering the force of his grip and it made him smirk.

Tala knew what a complete mess she must’ve looked like, she had basically sobbed around that wonderfully–stupidly– ribbed cock. After she regained some sense she looked up begrudgingly, ears ready to hear whatever smug shit was about to spew from that handsome face.

“Good girl. You did your best.” UGH

“Fuck you.” It was harder to speak than she thought it would be.

He chuckled. He pressed some button on his wrist tech and with a drop, Tala’s hands unlinked. She looked down, then looked up, mind still catching up.

“You… could have done that this entire time?”

“What’s the problem? You only used your mouth.”

Tala hissed. She looked down on herself, cum and unholy amount of drool stuck to her skin and made her feel that much more dirty. She empathically placed her hands on both of his thighs to support herself to her feet and then leaned close to his face.

“Well, your toy wants to be clean now, if you don’t mind.” She glowered. Unsatisfied or not, Tala would rather get cleaned than anything at that moment. Neteyam looked down to watch his cum dripping down her neck and tits, decorating her boobs enticingly, his smug smile widened.

“You’ve never looked better.” He smiled as if he had given her a genuine compliment and Tala wanted to suffocate him. Before the Tawkami girl could reach for the pillow, Neteyam suddenly stood up, stepped out of his pants, and tugged off his shirt lazily. He grabbed Tala around her waist and carried her like a sack into the connected bathroom unit. There had to be one when heats or ruts could last days at a time.

“O-Oh! Neteyam, you skxawng!” She struggled, cursing. He sighed. “I’ll drop you.” Tala went limp.

The bathroom was small, more like a wet room with a connected hand-hold faucet. Obviously, Neteyam got to it first, and obviously, he turned it on and struck her with freezing water and he laughed meanly at the scream that came out of her mouth.

“Such a fucking—!” She expeled a long string of na’vi curses that Neteyam didn’t bother to listen to. All of her was wet and cold and Tala flung her wet hair at Neteyam to slap him. He merely chuckled and when the water turned warm, he held the showerhead above his head and pulled her in to let it soak down her too.

“Gotta help clean my toy, yes?” He replied and Tala scoffed. She worked on washing her face and ran her hands along her neck and chest, pawing at her breasts to get that sticky feeling and his smell off of her.

Maybe Neteyam was staring. Maybe he was thinking of pushing her against the wall and having her scream his name out of pleasure this time.

When Tala looked back at him, cheeks still red and lips still swollen, now her hair cascading in soft wet waves, he seriously contemplated having that thought be a reality.

“Your toy is fragile, it’d be a problem for you too if I broke.” She said snarkily, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind. “Your headband, skxawngs.” She lightly pulled the headband off before the fabric got completely soaked. 

Neteyam watched as she gently placed it on a dry ledge, away from the spray, then massaged the area of his mark on her neck.

He supposed he could have been gentler with the bite, with the way it bruised ugly vivid colors and still had hard shells of blood. Tala glanced up at him, his scar visible. He was still handsome even with the scar on his forehead, which was infuriating, but still, it was large, and it looked… as if it was burning inside him.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, both knew what she was referring to. He snorted.

“Do you care?”

“Oh, yes, I enjoy asking about things I don't care about! You act as if I like wasting my own time.” She replied sarcastically.

“You do, you do it all the time.”

Tala screwed up her face and turned away from him with a huff, because maybe he was technically correct, it was a coincidence. She’d rather freeze outside than spend another second with him. He stopped her by just barely ghosting his fingers over her elbow.

“It doesn’t right now.” His voice was low, likely honest. She paused. 

“Let me see.”

Neteyam highly considered not, but right now she was closer to the exit, and therefore his gun, so he relented. He put the showerhead on a hook that let the water run on them both and leaned down with a sigh. Tala gingerly held his face, completely focused on the scar tissue. There was skin trauma, sure, though it was as if injected with something dark, swirling, active. But still, a question picked at her brain.

“Why do you hide it?” The People did not consider scars unseemly, they were proof of their survival. This was too.

Neteyam pulled his face away from her hands.

“Tawtutes stare.”

“Tawtutes always stare.” Tala countered. He raised his brows at her and they stared for a moment in silence. He sighed.

“Some specific scientists stare. I don’t like the look on their faces, they look… pleased with themselves.” Neteyam admitted without looking at her in the eye. He wasn’t completely sure why he was explaining this. Maybe because of that along with headaches, he felt his usual aggressive thoughts… silence. Feeling clearheaded out of battle felt strange after months otherwise.

“Do you remember how you died?” Tala knew it was a sensitive question but they have already established that neither felt like being patient with the other. Neteyam kept still like a statue, eyes challenging her.

“Lo’ak shot me. Right here.” He pointed to his forehead scar.

Tala’s eyes widened, that wasn’t what she was told. He saw her disbelief and his voice turned scornful.

“Of course, he never told you, maybe didn’t tell anyone. Skxawng was returning fire, then hit me instead.” His face twisted in anger, betrayal, and the vitriol in his words made her feel sick.

“That’s… That’s not what I heard. Kiri said-”

“Kiri wasn’t there. I’m sure my Mother finished my songcord with a heroic ending. How could she sing ‘slain by his baby brother’?” He growled, fangs showing his spite. He straightened his back and wiped water from his face in an act to center himself. His eyes became even colder as he stared down at her.

“Besides, Tala, how well do you even know my family? Would you really be able to tell if they’re lying?”

The words stung but it was already where the Tawkami woman’s mind went to. She was closest with Kiri, and for Tuk she didn’t want to pry. Lo’ak only confessed that he hadn’t visited the Tree of Voices even once after a long night of drinking kava. He and Spider both asked for her help with their nightmares and she had concocted strong sleeping droughts for a peaceful sleep, but even once and a while they would still scream themselves awake.

Her tail swung erratically as her mind raced. Only Kiri had told her of their family surrounding Neteyam as he died, bleeding out. Her eyes shifted to the large scar on his chest instead.

It ruled out the headshot, the chest was his death shot, but how involved was Lo’ak? Her stance wavered in the face of Neteyam’s eyes scorching white heat through her own. If her eyes were a forest, Neteyam’s sun was burning it down.

Tala closed her eyes. Regardless, her theory was answered and the details surrounding Neteyam’s death didn’t matter to her, not when she was focused on her survival. This was not her goal.

“So the scientists brought you back. Shouldn’t you be proud of them?” She asked instead. He glowered.

“You and I both know that I shouldn’t be here.”

Tala hummed, neutral. He knew it was wrong for him to be alive, but now that he was he would be fighting for the RDA’s behalf. She smiled, slightly embittered, mostly sad.

“Seems like no one in this war will let you rest.” Neteyam found her words surprisingly sincere. The way her leaf-green eyes seemed actually so upset for his sake though unnerved him, her sentiment made awful feelings swirl in his gut and it twisted him further.

“Must seem like that for the Tawkami’s ‘Sevin Prrnesyul(Pretty flower bud). No one’s expected much from you, have they?” Neteyam’s words were venomous, malicious, and Tala bristled at them. What just happened, how poisoned was he to take her words like that? She pursed her lips, she really shouldn’t lower herself down to his level.

“Says the vrrteps’ amazing experiment. You're a wonderful little trophy for them, aren’t you?” She bit back before thinking and Neteyam glared, his nose twitched.

“Not as much of a trophy as you are. Prison must already be torture for you, you’re so used to just sitting still and smiling, and being fed well for it.”

Tala’s smile became saccharine and she raised to her tiptoes. This asshole-

“Aw, I’m honored the strong and mighty would be-Oloeyketan finds me desirable, it’s truly an honor. I’m sorry, I’m too busy smiling so I won't be able to immediately grovel at your-”

The way Neteyam smirked and puffed up his chest arrogantly made her stop dead. He tilted his head condescendingly. She sensed her mistake.

“Go on, little toy. Finish that sentence.” He taunted. Her face soured.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Tala replied scathingly, returning his smile.

Neteyam cupped her ass tight and it made her let out a high-pitched squeal. She flushed deeply and bit her lips into an ashamed frown and he laughed meanly. He eyed her lips, still red and swollen and he licked his own.

“Yes, do mind the drool.” She quipped and he rolled his eyes. He flicked the shower off and then again manhandled her in his arms and she screamed.

“Stop picking me up!!” Her head swung downwards and she almost thought he was going to drop her on her head and really kill her until she just hovered over his half-hard cock. She could see it twitching to life and she stared.

“You are so-nng~!” Tala moaned weakly when Neteyam licked a flat stripe against her pussy lips, blood was rushing to her head. Neteyam encircled his taut muscles around her waist and proceeded to bury his mouth into her hot cunt, already leaking juices.

Tala grabbed onto his thick thighs for support, only brushing her face closer to his hard cock. Whether or not she sucked it, he found that didn’t care. He just wanted to suck her sensitive flesh and juices, envelop himself in her spicy and sweet perfume and listen to her babble stupidly for his tongue.

Her embarrassment afterward was always an added bonus.

Slick was trickling down her ass and her belly as he feasted, massaging and twisting his tongue inside, sucking at her clit. Her pussy fluttered and spasmed, Tala’s strangled moans bounced against the tiles. She needed something, anything to hold onto-

Neteyam lip’s stuttered a groan when he felt her warm mouth enveloping his cock. He chuckled softly on her sensitive bud, vibrations making her mewl and her thighs twitch around his head.

“Such a good toy f’me.” He husked, then returned to his meal. It was even harder to breathe like this but Tala drooled at how her throat convulsed around his hot shaft. Every time she needed to take a breath her tongue swirled around the fat head of his cock, her fingers bumping against themselves as they massaged every ridge firmly.

The blood was getting to her head and her legs were feeling numb but Neteyam’s tongue only dug deeper and sloppier into the sensitive and gummy walls. 

Tala panted quickly, her thighs started tensing up, she was so close so unbearably close-

Neteyam gave a final suck at her clit and withdrew his mouth from her puffy pussy.

The wholly needy whine that came out of Tala’s mouth was so unrestrained he almost felt bad for her. Almost.

He let Tala down, laying her whole body on the floor, and stared satisfactorily at her trembling body. Tala was not thinking straight otherwise she would’ve stopped herself from backing her ass up against his cock, mewling desperately.

He thumbed at her throbbing pussy languidly with a smile, he found it cute how tightly it was milking his thumb.

“Nete-please!” Tala begged, her pussy aching to be filled, begging for a release.

“I think I’m tired of playing.”

Tala huffed, she knew that was a fucking lie, looking at how rock-hard his cock was. She brought her knees up and reached between her legs, still giving Neteyam a good view.

“Then you can watch.” Tala growled heatedly and plunged her own fingers into her weeping pussy, holding eye contact. Her fingers would be just enough, her other hand furiously rubbing at her clit.

She never broke eye contact, eyelids drooping as she panted and moaned without reservation.

He wasn’t expecting this, it was unmistakably hot and he started pumping his cock in rhythm with her fingers.

They kept moaning as they watched each other writhe in pleasure and finally Tala’s eyes rolled back and she came so hard her body stayed rigid. Neteyam came in time, hot streaks of his cum decorated her ass and back, another pretty picture.

Her thighs trembled and Tala’s body collapsed, her fingers slipping out. They breathed hard for a few moments before she disturbed the short peace.

“Enjoyed the show?” She said weakly, her giggles made Neteyam’s ears twitch.

“Looks like you enjoyed yourself more.” He quipped back.

“Mm, just admit you were captivated.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You were impossibly captivated? You just like me so much, don’t you?”

Neteyam voted internally to ignore her as he carelessly cleaned himself, barely helpful to Tala, and threw the already used towel once he was done with it at her face. Her squawk of indignation managed to quirk a smile on his face.

Once both were clothed and dry enough, Tala opened her arms at him, still situated on the bathroom floor. He furrowed his brows up, somehow she always created new ways to confound him.

“I can’t walk.”

Neteyam looked at the mischievous swaying of her tail and growled. He had decided he had had enough of Tala for the day. He didn’t even realize he had already picked up the Tawkami girl over his shoulder and carried her down the halls. Oh, she resisted at first, yelled and struggled, but by the time they reached the prisons she had begrudgingly fallen silent.

The guards stood at attention when they spotted Neteyam.

“Sir, Corporal Tom, sir.” They said, recognizing the prominent Recom soldier instantly. He basically deposited Tala onto one of them.

“At ease. Return this one to their cell.” His voice resumed its usual coldness, but Tala gritted her teeth, she could hear his smug undertone. She was annoyed but unsurprised, a least he carried her

So Tala kept her mouth shut even as the guards shoved her back into her cell, kept it shut as she fumed on the cold floor and slowly fell asleep, and kept it shut until the next time she had to return to inspection.

His ailment confused her and the rupture in his memories worried her even more. But there was nothing she would be able to do for him, he obviously needed someone more attuned to Eywa, a Tsahik, Kiri.

It was not her destiny to save Neteyam, and she doubted he wanted any anyways.

–

A couple of weeks passed with more or less little fanfare. Every few days or so, more samples would arrive in the lab and she’d report in, inspect, and identify and every so often mess around with Hanson and the other tawtutes. It was fun to see his face turn red and the glass of his exo-pack steam up as he sputtered.

She couldn’t exactly swipe any plant materials, but little bits of metal wires, paperclips, and loose scrap metal went by unnoticed. All she gave to Orlek’an to fashion whatever she wished. Tala thought it would be maybe hair trinkets, come to find out instead the Anurai na’vi made darts.

She was only slightly offended she hadn’t seen Neteyam since that day, but neither had she seen any other Recombinant soldier. It didn’t even matter anyways, the RDA dreamwalkers were strangely hesitant approaching her now.

“Alright, that’s enough for today. We’ll call for you again once we gather more samples.” He said simply and Tala acknowledged it with a glance his way. Hanson grumbled and spoke. “Patty, please get her out of here. And call R&D techs, this thing is driving me crazy.” The tawtute waved around the translator and Tala couldn’t stop the slight grin.

“Will do, get some rest Dr. Hanson.” Patty said and Tala slowly stood up from her seat with a sigh.

Her head snapped up. Tala smelled something alarming, txumpaywll root with notes of cinnamon. Innocuous for adult na’vi but paralyzing for a child, and she basically considered a human adult’s immune system to be that of children.

“Stop!” She shouted, her eyes searching wildly for the source. The two tawtutes who were always in the back froze, tongs loosely holding a large pod.

“What are you on-” Hanson tried to shout at her but she gasped. The microseconds dragged as she watched the seed pod slip away from the tongs’ grip and–

It was too late, a plume of sickly green smoke erupted from the beaker, and within seconds the entire room filled with the sleeping gas. Tala covered her nose and mouth, the Tawkami built up their immunity towards drugs like this. She heard Patty coughing and the tawtutes gasping, their exo-packs were not meant to filter this.

She bounded towards the beaker and dumped the solution in the chemical sink, getting rid of the source but the gas was already in their lungs. Tala cursed, her eyes darted for anything, healing roses, fpomron leaves, something fast. Something in the back of Tala’s mind creeped up to the surface, she didn’t need to save any of these tawtutes. They worked to destroy Eywa, not just study it.

Tala looked at the scientists, looking pale and gasping for breath despite their exo-packs and hazmat suits being intact. Patty’s avatar was on the floor, slumbering peacefully. She cursed loudly, Great Mother she was an alchemist not a warrior!

The Tawkami acted quickly, grabbing at plant matter and dried samples from the cabinets. She used the handle end of the stun baton to crush and grind them, creating inhalants. Scooping them in a petri dish Tala swiftly brought it to the two scientists on the floor.

“Smell!” She barked at one before removing their exo-pack slightly, shoving the petri dish to their face. She mimed the action on her own face and the tawtute followed suit, Tala reinstalled the mask and moved to the next one.

By the time the Tawkami got to Hanson, he was already fully unconscious and she expertly puffed the inhalant up his nostrils, used to doing this for ailed children.

The mechanical doors opened and revealed a shorter woman with a blond ponytail wearing an exo-mask and two Recombinant soldiers.

“Stop right there!” She screamed, Tala faltered. Patty? A second after she resecured Hanson’s exo-mask she was kicked off of him by a Recom and she yelped in pain.

When she hit the ground Tala tried to explain but her wrist cuffs activated and a painful crash of lightning coursed through her body.

“Stop…stop!” A scientist from the corner called out and Patty nodded. The cuffs deactivated and the Tawkami’s body was left jerking erratically and stiff on the lab floor.

When she looked up she saw a vaguely familiar face, Corporal Halloway? He smiled and she committed his name to her personal curse list.

Her vision was darkening fast, she could see the tawtute Patty run towards Halloway and yell something, another hazmat-suited scientist started shouting.

As Tala closed her eyes, a whiff of sunlillies tickled her nose. Surely not. Wouldn’t it be just rich for him to arrive and watch her convulse on the floor, he’d probably have difficulty holding in his glee.

She took one last breath before everything became dark. Was that… blood?

Tala hated the smell of blood.

tag list: @xylianasblog @itchaboi-itchyboy @hotdsworld @pandoraslxna @luvv4j4ybe11 @neteyamsyawntu @akoyaxs @whatevenisagrapefruit @teyamsatan @justcaptiannoodles @theblueflower05 @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @plooto @hao-ming-8 @teyamsilly @vivid-ink

[oftenwantedafton]

Triptych - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader x Mike Schmidt

Rating Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, bisexual characters, date rape drugs, non/dub con

Also available on AO3

Mike has a bit of a thing for Abby’s just barely legal babysitter.

He swears it wasn’t always like this; that he didn’t just hire you because of the way you look in your Catholic schoolgirl uniform or on those days when you have gym last period and you’re wearing a polo shirt and shorts with the school’s emblem that hug every curve while leaving just enough to the imagination when he picks you up and drops you off at his house before going to work.

He definitely doesn’t jerk off in the bathroom with the door securely locked thinking about you on your knees with your pink lips wrapped around his cock. Never that.

God he was turning into such a pervert.

And this would all be bad enough, a laundry list to confess at church if he ever gets brave enough to go back, but to make matters infinitely worse, he’s kind of got a thing for your stepfather, too.

He supposes he’s always been one of those people who just follows what he’s attracted to, gender rather insignificant. In truth there’s never been a man that he’s been this hot for before, either.

It’s going to take a few beers to get Schmidt to admit that he enjoys it when your stepdad insists on picking you up, saving him another trip and more importantly providing him with another chance to admire the social worker. He enjoys it even more when the older man doesn’t just wait for you in the car and actually comes inside to chat for a few minutes. Sometimes Mike offers him a Brewski but, alas, he always declines. Steve has to do the right thing and drive sober, even though he highly doubts one beer would be even remotely enough to affect a tall drink of water like Steve Raglan.

So now the stepparent joins Mike’s collection of lewd fantasies, helping further speedrun him straight to Hell. He likes the silver eyes and the silver threads in his hair and beard and the way his hand rests splayed on his stepdaughter’s lower spine as he guides you out the evergreen shaded front door. He’s trying but failing to not imagine what it would feel like for that spread of fingers on his own spine, sliding through sweat, clutching skin, digging in when the way he works his mouth is just right and now you’re there, too, shared between himself and your stepfather and fuck, he cums harder than he ever has in his life, staring up at the poster of Nebraska pinned above his bed; at those tall, tall trees stretching up, the branches reaching futilely for Heaven.

So yeah. He’s got a lot of that Catholic guilt going on. But it’s not enough to stop him from wanting.

***

Another night. Abby’s tucked in and Mike’s tucking cash into your palm. Steve’s in the car tonight. Pity.

“My stepdad wanted me to invite you over for dinner next week,” you say.

“Oh. Uh, yeah sure, I’ll just have to check to see if one of the neighbors can watch Abby.”

You nod. He likes the way the struggling bulb of the porch light flickers over your features. Sometimes bright, sometimes in shadows. He can’t really see inside the car from this distance but he knows Steve is watching.

“I’ll get back to you on what night works, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll tell Steve. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Thanks again.” He watches you walk down the driveway, to the vintage luxury sedan that the middle aged man drives. He wonders how long he’s maintained it. The thing still looks like it just came off the showroom lot. A lot of time and care invested. Patience.

He wonders if maybe Steve has been waiting for another investment to pay off, too.

***

Mike’s not accustomed to dressing up. The last time he’d done so had been for his mother’s funeral, and that is definitely not a memory he wants to dwell on.

So he decides on a button front shirt and tie. Dark trousers. His socks are probably the worst part of the outfit. They’re mismatched and definitely not the kind of dressy ones that you’re supposed to wear. The shoes have seen better days. He’s really not much for clothes and he doesn’t spare much time taking proper care of them. They’re scuffed and the laces are frayed. There’s no hope for it. Hopefully neither you nor your stepdad will notice.

He walks his little sister next door. Says he’s not sure what time he’ll be back, maybe four hours or so.

The directions to Raglan’s house are sitting beside him on the passenger seat.

He’d spoken to Steve earlier that day to get directions. You’d given your stepfather Mike’s phone number.

His voice in person was attractive enough, Mike supposes. Sort of an odd combination of gravel and nasal, a blend of low and higher pitch when he got animated about something. He much prefers the lower tone, like the one he’d used over the phone. Practically purring like a cat. Mike had found his pants getting extremely tight with that breath in his ear.

The house is nice. Older, but tidy. He wonders if it’s ever difficult for Steve to be here since he’d lost his wife in a drowning accident a few years back. Did he ever think of dating again? Or was the memory too strong?

Mike shuts the door of his rusted sedan. It looks so out of place next to Raglan’s immaculate specimen. He feels out of place. He shouldn’t have come empty handed, but he has no idea of what wines are good and he didn’t want to bring the wrong kind. So. He presents himself empty handed, ringing the doorbell.

You open the door and smile at him. He’s only ever seen you in school clothes. Tonight you have a light pink sweater and white jeans. It compliments your skin tone well. Still clean faced, no makeup. Hair neat and tidy, nails polished to match the sweater.

“Let the man in, it’s cold out there.” Steve’s voice calls over your shoulder.

You giggle and murmur an apology and pull the door wide open, granting Mike entrance into the Raglan household.

“Mike. How are you? Come in,” Steve greets you warmly from an open doorway to the left. “You can just give your coat to her.” He shrugs out of the jacket and hands it to you, following your stepfather into the living room.

“I didn’t know being a social worker paid so well. This place is nice,” Mike murmurs. The couch looks new, plush microfiber. Bookshelves and a fireplace and art on the wall that looks like an original, not some cheap knockoff.

The tall man laughs. “Well, it’s not all from that source of income. I used to own a business. Made some wise investments. We can discuss it sometime, if you’d like.”

“What kind of business?”

“A restaurant,” Steve says.

“Must have been pretty upscale, huh?”

“Well it wasn’t a Michelin star type, no. But it was pretty, yes,” he muses, his voice softening, his eyes looking distant.

“What happened to it? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, it’s still around. Closed but…I could never quite bring myself to let it go.” He smiles softly. “So enough about going down memory lane. Have a seat. I hope you’re not going to be too upset, but we’re having dinner delivered. Work ended up being particularly busy today, and…”

“No, that fine. Whatever’s okay.” He sinks into one of the couch cushions.

“Great. Well, it should be here in a half hour or so. Want something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” He winks at him. An honest to goodness deliberate wink. Mike shifts in his seat, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

The phone rings after Steve leaves. He can hear his muffled voice from the other room. He drags his damp palms over his thighs. He’s so nervous.

“Hey, my stepdad said to give this to you.” You walk into the room carrying a pair of wine glasses filled with something pink that’s a shade darker than your sweater. You hand him the fuller one. “That one’s yours.”

“Oh, um…” Well. One glass of wine was fine. He’d certainly driven home drunker than that before. “Thanks,” he accepts the glass and takes a sip. Wine has never really been his thing, but to be honest, he could use the alcohol to take the edge off right now. “Does your dad—I mean stepdad—usually let you drink?”

You shake your head. “Never. But he said it’s a special occasion.” You take a cautious sip, frowning over the taste.

Mike takes another swallow, watching as you sit down next to him. So many seats available and you choose this one.

You sample more of the drink. “It’s warm in here, isnt it?” Your cheeks are definitely more flushed. Man, you were really a lightweight.

“That’s normal. You get warm when you drink alcohol. The blood vessels dilate. Maybe you should slow down,” Mike cautions.

“Sorry about that. Work. They just can’t seem to manage without my guidance.” Steve apologizes as he strides back into the room, carrying what Mike presumes is the wine bottle that you’ve been drinking from. No glass for him. He settles on the opposite end of the couch from the younger man, his thigh very close to his stepdaughter’s. “What have we been chatting about? Anything interesting?”

“Can I have some more? I’m really thirsty.” Your voice sounds…off. Not intoxicated, but something else.

“Of course you can, sweet girl. But not too much. We don’t want you passing out. At least, not quite yet.” He tips the open bottle into the now empty glass, helping you to hold it steady.

The older man takes a swig from the bottle, sighing in satisfaction. Mike can only stare open mouthed. What, exactly, was happening?

“Well, at least she gave you the right glass.”

“I’m sorry?”

Steve shakes his head. He rests a hand on your knee. “I’ll give you credit, Mike. You’ve been nothing but polite and respectful to her so far. Almost as if you’re not drowning in impure thoughts the remainder of the time. I know your type.” He smiles but there’s no humor in that curve of lips.

“I…I don’t know what you’re…”

“Oh, Mike, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve had to play the dear devoted stepfather who tragically lost his second wife in an accident for the last several years. Just waiting for the right moment. I think I’ve waited long enough. Don’t you agree?”

“Steve…” Mike begins, unsure of how to proceed. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He’s ashamed to say there’s an echo of that pulse further south, too.

“Oh, and by the way, dinner is canceled. Finish your drink,” Raglan coaches you gently. A little of it spills from the corner of your mouth.

“Did you…did you put something in…”

“Just something to relax her. I’m starting to think maybe you need some, too,” Steve manages to tear his eyes away from your damp lower lip, glaring at Mike.

“This…this is so fucked up…”

“And yet you’ve been fantasizing about it for how long now? Weeks? Months? Did you even ask what her qualifications were when you interviewed her for the babysitting job, or did you just drool over her thighs and say yes?” Steve’s hand drags slowly up his stepdaughter’s leg. Your eyes are glassy, dazed, struggling to focus.

Mike swallows loudly.

“I’ve more than paid my dues. Time to collect. You can either share in the plunder or not. I leave it at your discretion. But if you tell anyone about this, I can assure you it will be the last mistake you ever make.”

“You’re not…you’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

“Of course not. I mean, it’s probably going to be a little bit sore when I take her virginity, but, well, that’s to be expected. Maybe with the drugs she won’t even feel it. She certainly won’t remember it.” He threads his fingers through your hair. “You’ve made a bit of a mess of yourself, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you clean it up.”

He laps at the corner of your mouth and Mike’s cock lurches. He knows he should not be having any part of this, he should be calling the police, getting you the fuck away from this man, but he’s too mesmerized by the perverse scene that’s playing out before him. For him.

Steve tugs your head back gently and shoves his tongue between your lips, groaning. You don’t struggle. There is no protest. You’re soft, malleable, pliant beneath him.

The older man breaks the kiss, panting. “So fucking perfect. I’ve always loved that mouth.” He kisses you again. “Want to have a taste, Mike?”

He does.

[munstysmind]

WARNING/S: non-con, rape, loss of virginity, rough sex, rough vaginal sex, rough oral sex, rough anal sex, unprotected sex, multiple men, blood, assault, abuse, slavery, trauma, threats of forced prostitution, mentions of kidnapping/abduction, mentions of death, mentions or murder, mentions of injuries, mentions of suicide. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT

THIS IS A DARK FIC, DO NOT READ IF THIS TYPE OF CONTENT TRIGGERS OR OFFENDS YOU.

You and you alone are responsible for what you choose to consume online.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Thank you to @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure for being my ideas gremlin, and @themaradwrites for beta-ing. This wouldn’t have been written without your help.

MAIN MASTERLIST

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CH. 1 - THEIR REWARD

{54 BC}

Her heart pounds in her chest as she slowly walks down the hall towards the man she despises more than anything in this world.

Dominus Julius Fabius. Her owner. Her master.

She wishes she could stick him in the neck with a dagger and watch him bleed to death, just like all the men he condemns when he forces them into the arena.

He’s pure evil.

The kind of evil Orcus uses to make an example of. The God of punishment and the Underworld is going to have fun with her master when he passes into the afterlife.

She’s lost count of how long it’s been. Five years? Probably more, if she’s being honest with herself. She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.

Except her name.

Amina.

To everyone around her, she’s a thing. An object meant to do as she’s told. No exceptions.

She runs her finger along the cold iron bolted around her neck, her slave collar.

Thirty coins. That’s what he paid for her. She didn’t know you could put a price on someone’s life but that’s what hers was worth, thirty whole coins.

“There you are girl” he growls as he grabs her wrist tightly and drags her towards a door at the end of the hall “I’m in a right mind to give you a lashing for making me wait”

“I’m sorry, they… they wanted to make sure everything was perfect” she mumbles, keeping her eyes on the floor to help hide her tears as she recalls the looks of pity on the faces of the women who got her ready.

She knows they know what her Master’s plans are, and she suspects the reason they took so long was to keep her from her fate for as long as they possibly could.

“I don’t care. Those fighters in there won me a lot of denarii today. You’re going to let them do whatever they want to you. All. Night” her master tells her, getting so close to her she can feel his warm, vile breath across her face.

“I… I’ve never…” she stammers, her eyes going wide as she realises what he’s saying.

“I know. I know you’ve never laid with a man before, they checked you when I brought you. That’s why I chose you” he says, a smirk spreading across his face. “Maybe I should put you in the Lupanar and whore you out after they’ve broken you in. Gods know you’d make me a fortune”

It takes everything in her not to turn and run as fast as she can as she swallows down the bile rising in her throat.

It would be pointless though, there’s guards everywhere. She wouldn’t make it to the end of the hall before they caught her. She’d be guaranteed a lashing too, a public one at that. Just like Vesta.

“I mean it girl. You’re theirs tonight. I don’t care if it hurts… in fact, I want it to. A lot” he whispers, pulling out a small dagger and cutting one of the shoulders of her dress, exposing her breast.

He runs the dagger tip over her nipple, pressing it into the sensitive bud until it breaks the skin, making her let out a small whimper of pain.

“If you resist, or put up a fight, you’ll be punished, and it’ll be much worse than what they’re going to do” he growls before pushing her into the room.

She can’t help but flinch as the large wooden door is slammed in her face, the echo of the metal latch being closed ringing in her ears.

She just stands there, staring at it as she takes shuddery breaths.

She knows what’s about to happen. What she’s about to go through. And there’s nothing she can do about it.

She’s trapped.

Locked in a room with three blood covered fighters.

Their reward for winning their master 5000 coin.

She’s their prize.

“Turn around” a deep voice commands, making her jump.

She closes her eyes, praying to the Gods that she wakes up from this nightmare as she slowly turns around.

She sees the man the voice belongs to and her breath catches in her throat as she fights back tears.

He’s the one who killed her brother.

Champion gladiator August.

“Name” he growls, slowly approaching her with a look similar to the lions in the arena before they attack.

“Am… Amina” she stammers, stumbling back against the door as he towers over her.

She can smell death on him. The twang of iron, of blood. Was it her brothers?

Her stomach churns at the thought and she wants to be sick.

“Amina” he repeats “honest, faithful. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

Under any other circumstance she might have smiled and thanked him for his compliment, just like she was taught, but not this time. She just can’t.

“I like to know their names before I take what I want” he tells her with a smirk.

He remembers them, every name. All the women he’s taken this way. Amina’s the latest entry on his ever growing list.

He grabs her dress and tears it off her body, letting the fabric crumple to the floor.

She instinctively tries to cover herself, but he stops her, prying her hands away from her body before grasping her breasts and squeezing.

A grin spreads across his face as he continues to grope her, pinching and rolling her nipples tightly between his fingers, making her whimper in pain.

The noise makes him let out a low growl from deep in his chest and his eyes go dark, almost black.

Before she can fully register what’s happening, he grabs her by the back of her neck and yanks her towards the small table on the other side of the room, forcing her onto her back.

He takes her legs behind the knees and pushes them open, exposing her to not only him, but the other two men in the room who are now standing behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Her stomach churns as she stares at the ceiling, her face burning with embarrassment as she tries to think of anything to distract her from the way he’s inspecting her.

She bites back a whimper as he touches her, his fingers playing with her most intimate area before spreading it open.

He lets out a satisfied hum, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees she’s intact, just like their Master promised.

“I’ve never had a pure one before” he says, to no one in particular as he pinches the small bundle of nerves above her opening, making her gasp loudly.

“They’re my favourite. Oh, the noises they make” one of the other men says excitedly, much to August’s annoyance.

“She’s mine, Lloyd” he growls, glaring at the man before turning his attention back to her, really looking at her for the first time since she entered the room.

And as much as she tries to look away, to look anywhere but the face of the man that’s about to brutalise her, she can't. Her green, terror filled eyes just stare at him, transfixed.

He’s seen her eyes, and that look, before. He knows he has. There’s something so familiar about them and it takes him a minute to place it. The man he killed in the arena a mere hours before. Her brother.

“You’ve got his eyes” he tells her before turning his gaze back between her legs.

She’s so caught up in the flood of emotions at what he just said that she doesn’t notice his finger pushing into her until it’s too late.

She lets out a loud yelp at the sudden pain between her legs, her body instinctively trying to close her legs and move away from the beast of a man in front of her.

He lets out an angry growl and yanks her up by her arm, turning her around and bending her over the table with so much force all the air leaves her lungs when her chest makes contact with the wooden surface.

“Don’t move” he growls, kicking her legs apart with his feet.

She grips the edge of the table, so tightly her fingers hurt, as tears well in her eyes. She prays the talk of his stamina is wrong, that it will be over quickly.

But it won’t.

When he’s done with her, there’s two more waiting.

And they have her all night…

The sound of his armour dropping onto the ground behind her makes her heart pound.

It’s happening.

Right now.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best to relax when she feels him prod at her again, but it doesn’t matter.

He snaps his hips forward and tears into her with force, pulling a scream of pain from her that makes him grin.

In all the beatings she’s gotten over the years, she’s never felt pain like this.

It’s like a searing hot poker being forced into her over and over as she’s split in two.

The tears in her eyes escape and spill onto the table as he thrusts into her, over and over and over again. It feels like the more she cries, the harder his thrusts become.

“Best one I’ve had yet” he grunts as he lays over her, pressing her against the table with his full body weight, and starts grinding into her, moaning loudly in her ear.

He’s enjoying this, getting pleasure out of hurting her. How can he not? He’s a sadistic bastard!

Little does she know she’s not the first woman he’s forced himself into. It’s the whole reason he’s stuck fighting in that gods forsaken arena in the first place. And unless he dies there, she won’t be the last.

“You’re mine now, gonna take you like this whenever I want” he pants, making her let out a loud sob at the thought of him doing this to her over and over.

It all becomes too much and her stomach churns as bile rises in her throat, burning it as she chokes and coughs it up.

His moans start becoming louder as he ruts into her hard, his hips slamming her body into the table over and over and over.

“Oh Gods!” he roars, moaning loudly as his hips stutter then still before he thrusts into her as hard as he can, filling her with a strange warmth.

He says something to her, but she doesn’t hear a word of it, unable to hear anything except the loud ringing in her ears.

She lets out a loud whimper as he pulls out of her before kneeling and pushing her legs wider, smirking at the blood mixed with his spend dripping out of her.

He catches some with his fingers and pushes them inside her, forcing it back into her as she lies on the table, her entire body shaking and twitching from shock as she takes shallow, gasping breaths.

“My turn” the second of the men says, all but pushing August out of the way before grasping her by her hair and pulling her to her feet, making her cry out.

He pushes her to her knees, making quick work of removing his armour as she glances behind him at August drinking wine from a goblet and sees the size of him for the first time, enough to make Priapus himself blush.

She looks back at the second man, terror spreading through her yet again as she comes face to face with his member.

She can’t tell if he’s bigger, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to defile her the same way August did without a care for her.

He hooks his finger into her mouth and forces it open before pushing himself in until she starts to gag.

He holds onto the sides of her head and starts thrusting, hitting the back of her throat with each snap of his hips.

A smirk spreads across his face as he moves one of his hands to the back of her head and forces her down onto him, deep throating her.

He holds her there, moaning at the feeling of the muscles in her throat squeezing him as she chokes.

“We can’t kill her, Lloyd” August warns as she starts scratching at his legs, trying desperately to get air.

He lets out a growl as he pulls himself out of her mouth and slaps her hard across the face before grabbing it and pulling her to her feet.

“You’re going to pay for that” he hisses, manhandling her onto the small bed in the corner of the room.

He climbs on after her, roughly pulling her hips up and slamming into her from behind.

“Gods, I’ve not taken a woman this good in years” he moans, throwing his head back and gripping her hips tightly as he thrusts hard, spurred on by her cries.

“I wonder if her other hole’s just as good?” August says with a smirk, leaning against the table he just had her bent over.

“Let’s find out” Lloyd replies, spitting on her ass. He pulls out and lines himself up with her tiny puckered hole before pushing himself into her, moaning loudly at the muscles squeezing him tightly in an attempt to force him out.

She lets out a shriek of pain, her body going rigid as she tries, and fails, to get away from the man violating her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

He lets out an evil laugh and pushes her face into the bed as he starts thrusting, going out of his way to hurt her as much as he can.

The noises leaving him as he uses her body for his pleasure are burned into her mind as she prays to the Gods to take her and put an end to the indescribable pain coursing through her body.

He looks down at where he’s thrusting in and out of her and smirks proudly at the sight of blood.

“It’s even better” he grunts to August, gripping her hips so tightly his nails break her skin.

“I’ll have to try it next” August says, slowly stroking himself as he watches Lloyd pound into the woman at their mercy over and over again, moaning to himself at the sound of her cries.

Lloyd lifts her hips higher, thrusting as hard as he can into her at the new angle, turning her cries into screams with every snap of his hip.

He lets out a long moan, throwing his head back as he cums hard, filling her with the same strange warmth August did.

“Gods, I’m doing that again” he pants as he slowly pulls himself out of her bloody back passage before slapping her ass, making her yelp as she collapses into the bed.

“You’ll get your chance. It’s your turn, Nick” August says, getting the attention of the third man standing on the other side of the room.

Until now, he’s not paid much attention to the events happening in the small room, trying to drown out her cries and think of anything other than what he wants to do to her.

It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t care. He wants her. And it’s his turn to take her.

He slowly walks towards her, removing his armour as he does before gently turning her over and climbing into the bed.

“No more… please” she begs quietly as he spreads her legs with his knees and settles between them.

Asking for mercy is useless, she knows that. All she is to them is an object to seek pleasure from, to defile.

The only thing she can do is close her eyes and brace herself for the pain as he slowly pushes in, a long moan leaving him as he fills her.

But when he starts to move, the pain doesn't come.

She opens her eyes and stares at him, confused, and scared, by what she's feeling.

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Why is it so different?

Why does it feel… nice?

“Gods” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as he starts to speed up, letting out a moan that drowns out the one that slips past her lips.

She has no idea what he’s doing differently to August and Lloyd but she prays he keeps doing it because it feels good, amazing even.

Her mind races as she tries to understand what’s happening. Why does she feel bad, so embarrassed and ashamed, when what’s happening right now feels so good?

He moves his hips faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he gropes one of her breasts before pinching her nipple hard, pulling another moan from her.

He slowly glides his hand up her chest to around her neck, squeezing the sides. The sudden restriction of air makes her panic and start clawing at his hands, making him squeeze even more.

Her eyes roll back as a weird pressure builds between her legs, making whatever he’s doing to her feel even better.

It suddenly breaks, making her moan loudly as a pleasant burning sensation washes over her, before everything goes black…

VENERIS FILIA TAG LIST: @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @aussieez @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @sillyrabbit81 @juliaorplI78 @kingliam2019 @thebejeweledwatercat @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @therockandaroll

[corazondebeskar-reads]

better run

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 19 - "please don't" | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 521

summary: You should have never tried to run from Joel.

warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, captivity, hunter/prey, open ending (if u see me come back to this one later, no, you didn't. I have a problem.), one (1) kick, face slapping, hurt/no comfort

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please don’t,” he mocks. “You shouldn’t have run. Fucking cunt.” His boot connects with the aforementioned area, still tender from the previous day. 

He rests it there, in some sick display of conquest, and the terror grows impossibly as a sharp smile spreads. 

“You know what, baby? You want it so bad? I’ll let you try.”

You don’t dare speak but nothing, nothing about this rings with any hope. 

“Oh, now you don’t want to beg me anymore? You want a chance to get out of here or not?”

There’s no right answer. His smile grows, pleased as you face the trap he’s laid. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He removes his boot from between your legs and reaches a hand down to help you up. 

You take it and try to pull away as soon as you’re standing, but he just smiles and smiles. You don’t struggle, giving in easily to his grip. 

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he says, and your heart beats so fast it hurts, “and as a reminder of my kindness, I’ll give you a ten-minute head start, even. If you get away? I won’t come after ya unless you make trouble for me.”

You don’t believe it, but you can’t resist the tiny hope. Fragmented and dangerous as it is, you cut yourself open on its edges. 

“If I catch ya? Well, you better hope I don’t. And after that, I expect you to be on your best fuckin’ behavior. Understood?”

You nod, but he tightens his grip on your wrist.

“Say it.”

“Understood.”

No sooner have the words left your mouth than his hand connects with your cheek. “Is that how you fuckin’ talk to me?” 

“Understood, Sir.” 

“That’s more like it. Alright, stupid girl, go on. Time’s a wastin’.” 

The ten-minute lead had to be over; you’re sure of it. Which means any moment, he’ll find you. The dense woods surrounding the property are dark even in the afternoon sun, and you’re not doing well.

The days you’ve spent chained in his closet have not been kind in many ways. You’re exhausted, starving, and in pain. It’s all the worse now for the way the forest floor has torn up your feet, not to mention your knees and palms from when you fell. 

The adrenaline keeps the pain mostly at bay, but there’s enough for you to suspect you twisted your ankle. Autumn is settling in, and the breeze that winds through the trees makes you shiver, with only Joel’s shirt between you. 

You stop for a moment, knowing it hemmorages time, but desperate to look around. There’s nothing but trees, but certainly, if you keep going, there will be a road or people, right? 

Right?

Wrong, Joel thinks, watching you through binoculars. He’s lounging, back against a tree, not far from you. Letting you panic. He knows what you’re thinking from the way you turn on the spot, eyes darting in every crevice and gap for a clue. 

There ain’t a thing for fifty miles in every direction. This is his fuckin’ land. There’s nowhere for you to run where he can’t find you.

[cherienymphe]

Amnesiac IV (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, dub-con kissing, violence, public sex, memory loss, underage drinking, drug use, non canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​ | divider by @firefly-graphics​

➥ series masterlist

summary: “There’s something wrong with your love story, baby…”

After a surfing accident leaves you with little to no memory of everything that happened before that day, you start to wonder if the blond in what little memories you do have is the same one who claims to be your boyfriend.

~

Rafe loved kissing you.

You didn’t think it was possible to love anything as much as Rafe loved to kiss you. Once you had crossed that line and loosened the boundary some, he was like a man starved. He liked to kiss you when you first woke up, waving off all concerns of morning breath as his lips chased yours. He made a habit of tasting your lips as soon as you both settled into his truck, like some ritual he had to partake in before he got on the road. Even during the most random of moments like during dinner, he’d lean over while Ward was mid conversation and would quickly touch his lips to yours.

It disgusted Sarah beyond belief.

“It just takes some getting used to,” she had mumbled one day.

You had caught her alone on the back deck, alternating between reading and texting John B. It bothered you that while you two were evidently close before, it didn’t exactly hold up after your accident. You suspected that it had something to do with Rafe, and you weren’t entirely wrong.

“It makes me happy to see that Rafe is treating you well. I mean it,” she’d honestly said. “…but who he is with you isn’t who he is with everyone else.”

She didn’t say it, but you could read between the lines. You picked up on what she was thinking about specifically.

“Like JJ…?”

She sighed, looking away.

“Do you still think Rafe said something or did something to provoke him?”

You still found that so hard to believe. You couldn’t imagine Rafe doing anything like that no matter how hard you tried. Sure, his anger and cruel words that day had shocked you, revealing a side to him that you didn’t know existed, but to be fair, he had been wearing the evidence of an assault at the time. To you, his anger was more than justified.

“It’s clear that Rafe would prefer to keep you in the dark about a lot of things,” she exhaled. “…and honestly? I guess I can’t blame him.”

She looked up at you then.

“There’s just so much shitty stuff that you’ve been given the opportunity to just forget, and I’d probably want to keep things as nice for you as long as I could too. I mean, it’s not like I’m giving you a play by play of everyone’s fuck ups either.”

She shrugged.

“Rafe seems to really like you, and as much as I can’t stand him, I don’t think it’d be fair of me to write a list of every bad thing he’s done when he’s actually doing right by you.”

If you didn’t know any better, she actually looked annoyed with herself as she said this.

“But with that being said, Rafe and JJ have a messy history that goes beyond your accident. Hell, it goes beyond when you and JJ started to become friends. Although that definitely made things worse.”

She mumbled that last part to herself, and with Rafe inside, you took this opportunity to sit down.

You knew what Kelce said about JJ, and while what happened to Rafe pretty much confirmed it for you, you wanted to hear from Sarah too. You wanted to know why you were ever friends with someone who was so obviously bad news. You wanted to know why she and the rest of her friends continued to do the same.

“Kelce said that JJ is…violent, troubled.”

Sarah scoffed at that, slamming her book shut as she shook her head.

“If you’re going to know anything about this island, know that there’s a certain side of the island that thinks they’re so much better than others and is happy to look down on anyone who doesn’t come from where they come from.”

You glanced down, recalling Kelce’s disgusting words about people from The Cut.

“If you asked Topper, he’d tell you that he genuinely thinks people from The Cut were bred to mow lawns,” she continued with a humorless smirk.

You deeply frowned at that, and just like you wondered about the company Sarah kept…you were now starting to wonder the same about Rafe.

“JJ,” she started, sighing. “JJ just didn’t grow up with the same opportunities that they did.”

Your eyes met hers again, and her smile was sad now.

“Yeah, he’s a little troubled, but considering the home he grew up in, the man who raised him, I’d say he turned out better than okay.”

You bit your lip.

“No, he’s not perfect, but neither is Rafe,” she sardonically chuckled. “Yeah, JJ held a gun to Topper’s head once, but I’m positive Rafe didn’t tell you that Topper was trying to drown John B.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“…and I know Rafe didn’t tell you that he jumped Pope in retaliation. He beat him up with a golf club,” she spat.

“Sarah…”

“You don’t remember any of this, and that’s fine, but Rafe and his asshat friends should have the decency to be honest instead of telling you half-truths. They should stop trying to turn you against the people you genuinely cared about and who genuinely care about you…”

You glanced over your shoulder towards the inside of the house where Rafe was.

“…because you never cared about the stupid feud going on between the two sides of the island, and as much as I hate to admit it because I was jealous, there came a point where I wasn’t your best friend anymore.”

You looked at her just as she continued.

“JJ was.”

Your head spun a bit at that, and she looked like she was remembering something that you couldn’t.

“…and if I hated it, then Rafe really hated it.”

“Rafe, please,” you sighed, pulling away from him.

You could feel his worried gaze on you as you stood up, the sound of muffled music reaching your ears.

What you thought was going to be a normal day actually turned into your attendance at another party. Only this time, it was your own. The slight mirth in Rafe’s face as he mentioned a party later on in this very Cameron residence should’ve been your first hint. The way he picked out your dress and spent literal minutes admiring you and praising you in the mirror should’ve been another.

“You had one hell of a near death experience, and you’re here to tell the tale,” he’d told you at the shock on your face as you looked around. “That deserves to be celebrated.”

He had whispered that into your ear before leaning in to press his lips to yours in front of everyone. Ward and Rose were gone for the night, some art convention in Charleston that Rose had been dying to get to. Wheezie was at a sleepover, and you had no doubt that Sarah was with John B. At least, that was what Rafe had told you when you asked.

“You know those two, babe. They can hardly stay away from each other,” he’d said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

Even though it was days later, your conversation with Sarah was still on your mind, and so you weren’t really in the party mood. You tried to fake it for Rafe’s sake, he’d gone out of his way to do this, after all, but you couldn’t keep up the façade for long. You were alone with your thoughts in Rafe’s room for all of 10 minutes before he found you. He’d looked concerned, but upon confirming that you were indeed fine, he didn’t really waste much time before pressing his lips to yours.

The moment that you realized it was getting hot and heavy, you pulled away, not really up for that either.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you, voice dropping a bit.

You crossed your arms over your chest, holding his gaze.

“Did Topper really try to drown John B?”

Your question was evidently the last thing he expected, and Rafe huffed a sigh, looking away. You swore you heard him curse Sarah’s name.

“So, it’s true…”

Rafe opened and closed his mouth, opting instead to take a deep breath.

“Rafe, I know that there are things I don’t remember and will never understand until I do, if I do, but… If I was as close with Sarah and her friends as I think I was, then I want to explore that.”

His gaze snapped up to hold yours then.

“I want to decide for myself who I hang around, and you and Kelce made it seem like JJ was such a horrible guy, but by your own standards…isn’t Topper?”

You hesitated, swallowing.

“Aren’t you…?” you softly continued.

You watched as Rafe’s gaze darkened, jaw clenching.

“Sarah told me what you did to Pope.”

“She-.”

“Not because she has it out for you or anything, but to show me that it isn’t so black and white.”

You hurried to get near him, taking Rafe’s hands.

“I know that you’re just trying to look out for me, but…I had a whole entire life before my accident, and I want to know everything. I want to know who all of my friends were and all of my hobbies and the places I liked to hang out at.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment before slowly exhaling. You kept your eyes on him as he stood to his full height, face unreadable but eyes narrowed just a tad as he gazed at you.

“JJ punched me while I was trying to get food for my family. That’s the kind of guy you want to get to know…?”

You hesitated, and Rafe’s brows drew together.

“Unless you think I did something to have that coming,” he slowly said, and you furiously shook your head.

“Rafe, no- of course not!”

He lifted one perfect brow, and you could feel yourself deflating.

“I just don’t think it’s that simple. You and Topper have done some things too-.”

“Things you don’t even remember. You don’t even remember the full story or context but just what Sarah told you, but you saw what he did to me. You saw with your own eyes what I am talking about,” he slowly said, gesturing to you.

You didn’t respond, not quite sure how to.

“Do…do you know what it was like to see you in that water?”

His words made your heart drop, and you sharply inhaled. Rafe’s face had hardened now, jaw clenched and blue eyes icy as they gazed at you.

“To pull you out? To push against your chest until I was sure I’d break it because I was so desperate to see you breathing again?”

You blinked, vision blurring a bit as you exhaled.

“Rafe…���

“I almost lost you…for good,” he sneered. “…and now history is repeating itself.”

“No-!”

“It is. It is because…this…thing where Sarah and her friends, where JJ gets in between us is looking pretty familiar.”

You looked down with a frown.

“I promised myself and you that things would be different this time. When I handed you over to the doctors and nurses at the hospital, I made that promise only for this to start happening again,” he spat.

You reached out to him, apologies on your lips when he snatched his hands away. You blinked, a few tears escaping as he stared you down. He slowly held his hands up, chest heaving with deep breaths before brushing past you, telling you that he needed some air.

You knew that it probably wasn’t your first fight with Rafe, but it was the first that you could remember.

Once Rafe had left, you’d just sat in his room and cried. The more you thought on it, the more you could see things from his perspective, and it just made you feel worse. You didn’t even want to imagine what Rafe had gone through in saving you, and the pain and anger in his eyes spoke of a past that was probably much more tumultuous than you thought.

Sarah had said that you and Rafe used to be close, but she’d also said that you and JJ had become closer…and somehow, your supposed dislike of Rafe was thrown into the mix somewhere. Was it possible that Rafe’s version of things was the truth? After all, Sarah had admitted that she never knew why you had suddenly started hating Rafe one day. She couldn’t even tell you while Rafe on the other hand seemed to have an actual answer…and it was JJ.

You didn’t even know what time the party ended, nodding off to the faint sound of music.

When you woke up, it was morning, and you could hear Rafe’s shower running. You didn’t know what time he came back, but his side of the bed was warm, and that told you that he’d slept next to you. You were still wallowing in sorrow when he came out, blinking at the sight of his towel hanging low on his hips. Your heart raced as your eyes traced the droplets that danced down his skin, and when he looked at you, you didn’t have time to pretend like you weren’t admiring him.

“Morning,” he eventually said.

It came off as guarded, and you blamed yourself. Rafe didn’t know where he stood with you, and you didn’t like that.

“I’m sorry,” was your reply.

You pushed yourself to sit up, heaving a sigh.

“I’m really sorry…”

You continued when he didn’t reply, opting instead to lean against his dresser and stare at you.

“When Sarah told me what you and Topper did…it shocked me,” you admitted. “I felt like I was thrown a curveball because suddenly there was this much darker side to you that I didn’t even know existed.”

You watched as he swallowed.

“It made me doubt everything you told me. It made me doubt you.”

Rafe exhaled before moving to sit before you, his fingers brushing yours on the bed.

“Yes, I’ve done some messed up stuff…but…you have to understand that this thing between us and the Pogues? We all have,” he admitted before reaching up with his free hand to brush his thumb over your lip. “Except you.”

He held your gaze, a crooked smile on his pink lips.

“Never you,” Rafe murmured. “…and that’s why its so unfair that you’re the one that got hurt the most when all you’ve ever done was try to get along with everybody. It’s like you paid for my fuck ups.”

You tilted your head to the side, face falling.

“Rafe, don’t…don’t say that,” you whispered.

“It’s true,” he replied, blue eyes focused on his bedding now. “I hurt some people, but I never…”

His gaze slowly lifted to meet yours again, and his voice was steady with conviction.

“I never hurt you.”

You threaded your fingers through his.

“…and now I feel like I have. I feel like the accident was my fault.”

“Rafe-.”

“I should’ve tried harder to keep you away from him, to be less pushy about a lot of things-.”

“Rafe, stop!”

His face was in your hands, now, and you shook your head.

“Stop it, please,” you begged. “That’s too much to internalize, to take on.”

You both were quiet for a while, and you sighed.

“Rafe, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest…”

He studied your face.

“…and whatever your answer is, I’ll respect that because I remember the love and trust that I had with you, and it is the only thing that I know for sure. That feeling.”

You brushed your thumbs over his skin.

“I don’t remember my supposed friendship with JJ or guns and murder attempts or even my friendship with Sarah. I don’t even remember hating you, but I do remember loving you,” you told him. “I remember that feeling, and I choose to trust that and you because it’s the only thing that has been certain, so…”

You licked your lips, and Rafe’s gaze followed the movement.

“Do you want me to be friends with JJ again? Do you want me to try and be friends with any of them again?”

Rafe took a long time to answer, and the emotions on his face changed so many times, the conflict within him evident. He eventually took a deep breath before his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your skin hot.

“No.”

His voice didn’t waver, and he continued to hold your gaze.

“They’re bad for you, they always were, and…I don’t think I should be the bad guy for saying it,” he slowly told you.

His answer didn’t shock you, but your hands fell anyway, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you eventually replied. “Okay. If that’s what you want…”

Rafe’s eyes flitted between yours, searching your gaze for any uncertainty.

“Yeah…?”

You gave a nod, and he released a breath, reaching for you to rest his hand on the back of your neck before pulling you into a kiss.

Rafe always kissed you like his life depended on it. Desperate and hungry and feverish rolled into one. His hair was still damp, a few water droplets hitting your face as he moved his mouth over yours, and you’d almost forgotten that he wasn’t dressed until his chest brushed against you.

His other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the skin through your dress that you still had on from the night before. It was moments like this when you thought about that memory of the two of you on your bed. You’d wonder when this would progress into something more, and then you’d mentally smack yourself because you knew that was entirely dependent upon you.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Rafe wanted you.

Badly.

If the way he touched you wasn’t enough of a sign, then the way he looked at you definitely was. He always ran his eyes over you in a way like he was committing you to memory…or recalling one. It made you nervous in a good way, but then those thoughts would lead to insecure ones.

Had you been good in bed? Had Rafe been satisfied with you? It seemed like the obvious answer was ‘yes’. After all, why would he stay? And why would he constantly undress you with his eyes if he hadn’t been? When Rafe’s hand slid to the front of your neck, something deep in your gut flipped…and you didn’t know why.

His fingers brushed over your skin, and they curled around your throat ever so gently, and you jerked. Rafe didn’t seem to notice, and you blinked your eyes open, reaching up to touch his hand. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest for some reason, and you squeezed your eyes shut just as a sharp pain burst through your temple.

Deep in the crevices of your mind, you felt a hand wrapped tightly around your throat, choking you and jerking you. You could see your own hand on the strange wrist, desperate and shaky. You couldn’t breathe and wind whipped against your face and there was a wall at your back.

You ripped yourself away from Rafe, eyes wide now as you stared past him.

You could feel Rafe looking at you strangely, and you couldn’t find the words to reassure him. You couldn’t even find the words to reassure yourself. Was that a memory? It had to be because God knows it certainly felt like one. You slowly reached up to touch your neck, and you heard Rafe call your name.

“Are you okay…?”

You slowly lifted your gaze, eventually nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…I’m fine. I think…”

That last part sounded more like a question, and Rafe rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Um…I need to shower,” you told him, slowly standing.

You practically stumbled to the bathroom, fearful and confused by the strangest sense of déjà vu you’d gotten just then.

[honeycombmunson]

Kinktober Day 1 | Somnophilia

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

TW: somnophillia | smut, anal penetration (male receiving), anal fingering (male receiving), slight consensual non-con, slight daddy kink

Word Count: 1.6K

Taglist: N/A (Message me if you want to be added!)

Sleep. A state of reduced mental and physical activity in which consciousness is altered and sensory activity is inhibited to a certain extent. And in Eddie’s own, humble opinion; a state in which Steve Harrington looks his prettiest. His most,, well, what’s the word for it? Relaxed! His most relaxed. Most nights at least. When there are no furrowed brows plaguing his features, no frowns that might warrant any signs of aging, ones that Steve would only fret about later; and the cycle continues. A state in which he doesn’t have to worry about all of the problems of the world outside of this bed. No parents, no kids getting themselves into trouble, no inter-dimensional monsters reigning down on Hawkins. It was just him, and Eddie. And blissful slumber. And the best part; Steve looked absolutely delectable like this.

Dressed in nothing but his stupid little green basketball shorts, and one of Eddie’s shirts (one, very loved, very worn Black Sabbath shirt, cut tastefully into a crop top). His lips parted, and puffy, and is that— is that drool? It was! Glistening at the corner of his mouth and pooling on his pillow. He looks dewey, flushed. Ethereal. Eddie could write novels about him. He just might change professions and do so.

Steve’s brows pinch at the bridge of his nose. His lips turn downwards into a soft little frown within seconds, and Eddie’s big brown, doe eyes watch as he rolls over to be on his tummy, rather than on his side, and facing him. His head is turned away, and he hikes a leg up. The mattress squeaks the slightest bit underneath them, and the sheets fall delicately from his body with his movements. And Eddie would surely be ostracized if anyone ever found out the filth that runs rampant behind an innocent gaze. He couldn’t help it though! Not with Steve’s ass on display like that. Luckily for Eddie though, his counterpart wouldn’t mind all that much. After all, Steve was the one to bring up this whole idea. He was the one to confess that he’d dreamt of being played with, ogled over during his sleep. By Eddie. Came to him with a whole, huge spiel about it actually.

“So— I mean,, you don’t think I’m some total freakshow for it? Because like— look, man, I totally get it if you do. It’s not everyday some guy,, some guy asks for something like that, right?”

Like that. Hesitant, as if Steve can’t even begin to even think about what he just asked for. Like it was embarrassing. Something that shouldn’t even be spoken, lest he be outed as some kind of kinky freak in the sheets. And to be fair, he was.

“Steve,” Eddie can’t help the smile that spreads out across his cheeks, and god, help him when he snorts trying to choke back a laugh, only to receive a warning in the form of Steve exhaling rather hastily through pursed lips, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. “Stevie, darling, light of my life, please tell me you’re joking. Take a look at who you’re talking to. If anyone should be judged here, it’s me, really!”

Steve isn’t convinced. Nor, is he amused. That look on his face doesn’t falter in any capacity. In fact, it deepens. Those pursed lips turn into a scowl, and he huffs yet again, but before he can retaliate— Eddie can hear him now! ‘Come on Eddie, can’t you ever take me seriously?’— he jumps in.

“Look— I’m just saying… you don’t have anything to worry about, man. Not with me. I’m into much worse shit, and you know it, baby. Plus,,” And Eddie smiles. Bashful in a way because Steve is the expert at that, his eyes twinkling as he climbs up onto his knees to inch his way closer to the brunette tucked into the corner of his bed. Their noses brush, and he hums. One of Eddie’s ring clad hands finds Steve’s cheek. “I think it’s cute. Honorable even. I shouldn’t waste my time just watching you all night. Not when you just want to make yourself useful, even in sleep,, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

That finally gets a smile. The corners of Steve’s pouty, pink lips quirk up, and his skin burns under Eddie’s touch. “Right.”

Right. Of course, deeper, more in depth conversations were a must before they could’ve gotten to this point, and they’ve had them, multiple times over but if anything, Steve’s been waiting for this. He was very specific too in his request. He didn’t want to know when Eddie might do it. He didn’t want to be warned. He just wanted to be woken up, stuffed full. Or better yet! He wanted to wake up in the morning with cum dripping down his thighs. Having been completely unaware of what happened while he was unconscious. Eddie wonders what outcome they’ll get tonight. He guesses he’ll have to just wait and see.

Now though. Now, he’s reaching out. His hand, large with calloused fingers finds the span of Steve’s back, and rubs lightly as he coaxes himself into a new position, propped up on an elbow. He runs it down the curve of his spine, and lifts up the hem of his crop top. Fingers tread carefully over olive toned, mole-kissed skin. He traces over them for a moment, his breath shaky as he connects mole to mole, as if creating little constellations with every single little mark. And then his fingers dip down further. Dipping past the waistband of those shorts, and tugging them down, slowly as he can possibly bear to go. Further, and further, until… there we go!

“Oh, Stevie,,” Whispered, gentle words, as if this was some sort of sight to be marveled, completely awe-struck. If there was one thing about Steve that Eddie couldn’t get enough of, it was the hair that covered nearly every crevice of his damn body. His chest, his ass, his tummy, his thighs,, that iconic head of hair. He wasn’t called Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington for nothing, right?

He groans. Watches with intent as he lets the tips of two— yes, you heard it correctly, two— fingers massage the entrance of his hole, and really, it’s criminal the way they slip inside so easily. Stretched out already from that morning, with residual cum coating the pads of his fingers already. He didn’t need any of the extra help, but it wouldn’t hurt right? Just in case. It gets Steve hard too. A half chub bulging, and still enveloped in nothing but green shorts as they’ve just been pushed down to reveal what’s needed. Eddie leans in closer, and pushes his lips against Steve’s shoulder. Places kiss after kiss to the broadness, until his fingers have sunk in down to the knuckle, and just as he does, it gets a soft gasp in response. A little shift in movement, Steve rutting his hips backwards. Eddie halts.

It turns out to be a false alarm. Always such a deep sleeper, this one is. Thank god.

He begins to move. Fingering Steve slow, but deep, until he begins curling them. Pushing against plushy, searing hot walls, sinking them in, and bringing them back out in fluid motions, over and over again, until all of those little intricate subtitles of an oncoming orgasm begin to sprinkle their way into Steve’s body language. Squirming, heavy breathing, furrowed brows, a rosiness to his skin. He can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming. If Steve was just the slightest bit aware of what was happening right now. His fingers slip out.

“You ready, big boy?” He teases, rhetorical, of course because he isn’t looking for an answer here. No, Steve was to stay asleep, but Eddie couldn’t help but run his mouth, even when the situation didn’t call for it. He reaches blindly for the lube in his bedside drawer, and snaps it open with an ease you can only really achieve with pure muscle memory. His other hand pushes down his boxers until his cock bounces out from its confines, and in seconds he’s lubing it up. He hisses when it makes contact with his skin, cold to the touch as it squirts out of the bottle. With that tacky bottle discarded somewhere on the bed, he scoots over, one hand on his cock as he spreads the slippery lubricant over it, fully, lining up with Steve’s hole. Gaped open, and ready for the taking. “You’ve been so good for me.”

As he pushes in, he’s met with no resistance. Steve is supple, and warm, tight around him, and it takes all the effort Eddie can muster not to live the rest of his life as a one pump chump, but miraculously, he doesn’t cum. Yet. First the tip. Then he sinks in halfway. He has to stop again there, one hand, lubed covered on Steve’s hip, and the other positioned above his head. He wrings his pillow between his fingers with a groan, a strained nose that he tries to hold back. Holy shit. Closer, closer. He eases back in, just a few more inches, until— Jesus Christ.

“Eddie.” Hazel eyes snap open, frantic, just for a moment, though they’re clearly glazed over with a certain sleepiness. A hand finds Eddie’s hip, weak, and fingernails dig into his skin, but Steve doesn’t push. He doesn’t voice any sort of want for it to stop. “Daddy. Oh, s’full. S’so,, shit. M’tired.”

Eddie smiles. Let’s out a breathy excuse of a laugh, and leans in. He noses at Steve’s jaw, his breath hot and damp against his skin. He ruts his hips forward, knocking out another gasp from the boy beneath him. Oh, Steve was so perfect wasn’t he? So pliant, and by the looks of it, seconds away from letting Eddie fuck him right back to sleep.

“Oh, you poor thing. Just rest your head for me, Stevie,, daddy’s got you.”