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roosterr · 9 months

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white flag ✹ ch 3

note: (･ω･)

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.5k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: the 141 goes on your first mission since the fire, and you're forced to face your fear head on. when you fall short and ghost has to save you, your already fragile relationship seems to fall apart at the seams.

warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, pyrophobia, panic attacks, hurt/minimal comfort, argruments, ghost is mean again, reader has a little breakdown

ao3

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you can do this.

the mantra plays on repeat in your head as you stare holes into the opposite wall of the helo. you can do this, despite the objective being to demolish an enemy facility, which almost certainly meant that there would be fire, which you were certainly not afraid of.

you had to do this because nobody knew, and they couldn't find out. what kind of soldier is afraid of fire? considering all the things you've done, it should be trivial; you've stared down the barrel of a gun more times than you can remember, had a knife to your throat the same amount, and yet the simple thought of being near a fire has your heart beating out of control.

ghost's figure passing in front of you snaps you out of your thoughts, illuminated by the red lights as he stops at the edge of the ramp. the night behind him is foreboding, no stars to be seen and the wind cold against your skin as it rushes into the back of the helo.

"bravo team," his gruff voice cuts through the noise of the wind and the blades, "let's move."

you look across to where soap sits, exchanging a brief nod before you both stand and dutifully follow after your lieutenant. clutching your rifle to your chest with one hand, you use the other to lower the night-vision goggles over your eyes, casting an uneasy green glow over the environment. you keep yourself low as you follow after ghost and soap, making your way quickly to the cover of the treeline.

the facility you were here to demolish was between the three of you and the site gaz and the captain had landed at. the plan was to sweep from opposite sides of the building, planting charges as you go and regrouping in the middle – preferably with minimal enemy interference, but you were expecting them to put up a fight.

ideally, you could be out of the building and far enough away before the charges go off, and your phobia wouldn't be an issue; but that's only if luck was on your side, and lately it's been feeling like it's decidedly not.

your rifle is wedged into the crook of your shoulder as you follow behind soap, listening intently for any signs of movement other than the three of you. goosebumps prickle at your skin even under the many layers of your gear – caused by the temperature or your nerves, you're not sure.

ghost raises his hand in a gesture for you to stop, crouching just before the break in the trees. you follow suit and so does soap, gazing up at the building looming in front of you, a dark shadow against the night sky.

"bravo's in position," ghost says, keeping his voice low, "waitin' on you, alpha."

the radio stays silent. you roll your shoulders to release some of the tension, but you only breath a small sigh of relief when you hear price's voice cut through the static a moment later.

"solid copy," the captain responds, "had some company, let's get this done before they find the bodies."

"affirm. out here." ghost's monotone reply ends the correspondence, and he gestures once more to continue. you make sure to stay low and keep your head on swivel as the three of you creep closer to the large warehouse.

thankfully, you don't run into much trouble as you make your way inside; there's a few stragglers around the perimeter, but they're expertly dispatched with very little commotion.

your entrance is a lone side door, pried open as quietly as possible for the three of you to rush into. you make sure there aren't any hostiles waiting in the shadows before you head towards the support pillars along the centre of the room.

you secure the explosive to the base of the pillar, listening for the faint beep as you arm it, and stand back up to watch as ghost and soap do the same. with the first three charges set, ghost nods at the two of you, a silent affirmation to keep moving forward.

you fall into place behind soap again, the barely-there crunch of gravel under your boots is the only sound as you weave through the warehouse.

passing through another doorway into a smaller room, you fall into place next to ghost as soap takes his other side, the three of you beelining for the load-bearing wall to the north.

you arm the final set of charges with precision, turning to ghost and nodding at his signal to push forward again. the next room was where you'd regroup with gaz and price before heading to the exfil site.

as you're about to round the corner after them, you hear a noise from behind, the way you'd come in. you turn on your heel and raise your gun to look through the sights at where the sound came from, but you don't see any movement as you scan the area.

an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, but you don't get to voice your concerns to the others before you're thrown to the ground but the force of an explosion.

you're momentarily blinded by your night vision goggles when you pry your eyes open, the heat from the fire washing over you as you push yourself up and stumble backwards a few steps. shoving the goggles away from your eyes, you blink the disorientation away and whip your head around, searching for your teammates.

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief when you find them brushing themselves off and mostly unharmed; ghost and soap were helping each other up, and gaz was running towards you from the other end of the room while price fired at an unknown threat beyond where you could see.

the panic only sets in when you realise that they're on one side of the fire, and you're alone on the other.

"you've gotta jump through!" gaz shouts to you, his concerned face just about visible through the licks of orange flames between you.

your chest is tight, simply drawing a breath feels like wading through white water, and all of a sudden you're back in your room with black smoke filling your lungs.

"for fucks sake, sting!" a gruff shout echoes around you, but your mind is too foggy to register the words.

the heat on your face is far too much, the sound of your teammates shouting and the blood in your ears, the flickering light if the fire, its all

too

much.

even as you stumble backwards and fall on your arse your gaze is transfixed on the blaze in front of you, it feels impossible to tear your eyes away.

as you feel yourself completely succumbing to your panic, a dark figure cuts through the wall of flame and comes barrelling towards you, his features indistinguishable from the shadows at the corners of your eyes.

you feel him grab the strap on the back of your vest, and he roughly pulls you up to stand on your feet. the stark white of the skull mask fills your vision, tearing your focus away from the flames.

"get up, sergeant!" he growls, and in the back of your mind you register that it's ghost grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. "move!"

his hand goes to the strap again and before you can protest he's pulling you along with him, shielding you from the fire as he shoves you through to the other side.

the sprint back to the helo is a misty blur; one moment you're being dragged along with a knife shoved into your hand, the next you're leaning back against the metal siding and kyle is holding an oxygen mask to your face with an upsettingly worried expression.

you want to cry, but the tears don't come no matter how much you will them to.

ghost doesn't even look at you. he passes by where you're slumped next to gaz, heading straight to the cockpit without so much as a glance. your heart sinks to your stomach as you watch him go, knowing any attempt to talk to him would be futile.

the flight home is unbearably quiet, aside from the sound of the engines and your laboured breathing. eventually the tension leaves your shoulders and you're left with a bone-deep exhaustion that you know you'll be feeling for days after this is done.

when you finally land, ghost is the first down the ramp, again without a hint of acknowledgement to the rest of you. soap jogs to catch up with him as you follow them out, keeping his voice low as he tries to reason with the lieutenant.

they stop a little ways down the runway, and you take the opportunity to catch up to him. johnny shoots you an apprehensive look as you draw a deep, shaky breath, but before you can get a single word out, ghost whips around to face you.

"what the fuck was that!?" he spits, meeting your eyes with a glare so frantically venomous it sends a twinge of pain through your heart.

"i– i'm sorry, i don't know wh–" you sputter, desperate to explain yourself, but he cuts you off.

"i don't want excuses, sergeant!" he growls, gesturing angrily with his arms as he takes a step closer to you. "you can't just freeze like that in the field!"

"plea–"

"why?!" he's shouting at you now, invading your personal space. "what the fuck happened out there?!" he gets closer again, and all you can see is pure emotion in his eyes, something so raw you can't name it. "you could've died, for fucks sake! we all could've died!"

"ghost, c'mon…" soap places a gentle hand on his shoulder, an attempt to calm him that goes entirely unnoticed as ghost brushes him off. you try to take a step back and put some space between you, but he follows to stay uncomfortably close.

"what then, eh? what if i hadn't been there to come to the rescue?!" he's so close you can feel the heat radiating from him, see the reflection of your distraught expression in his dark eyes. "i can't babysit you every time we go on a mission, sergeant!"

…babysit? is that really what he thought of you?

the words feel like a knife in your chest.

he glowers at you with such intensity you have to squeeze you eyes shut to escape it – and as a desperate attempt to hold back the flood of tears threatening to spill over.

a heavy silence falls over you, more tense than you've ever felt it.

he stares at you, looking straight past you and into your soul, his eyes so intense it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. over ghost's shoulder, you see price stalking towards the two of you, a stern look creasing his face.

"simon, that's enough!" price commands, grabbing his elbow and pulling him roughly away from you.

now that you have room to breathe, you allow your eyes fall to your boots, but it's no use, the tears have already started rolling down your cheeks. you cover your face with a hand and brush past ghost and the captain,

"sting–" gaz calls out to you as you march into the building, but you can't face any of them right now – you need to be alone, there's too many eyes on you, it makes your skin crawl.

they know now.

they know you're afraid of fire, there's no way price won't bench you after this. you nearly jeopardised the entire mission – in fact, if it hadn't been for ghost, you probably wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

there's no way he would ever forgive you for such a monumental fuck up.

your vision is foggy through the tears, but the urge to get away is all you need as you push through door after door. you do your best to ignore the stares the other soldiers give you when you rush past them.

their eyes follow you as you go, you feel them burning into your skin, and it only serves to make you feel even worse about the whole ordeal. it was only a matter of time until what happened reaches the rumour mill, and you're not sure you'd be able to stop yourself if one of them decides to bring it up to you.

there has to be somewhere you can go where they won't find you, somewhere you can escape.

in your haste to get away, you end up following wherever your subconscious leads you. you come back to your senses outside again, on the turf behind one of the many buildings on base.

your legs give out and you collapse into the grass, knocking your head against the wall with how hard you throw yourself down. sobs wrack your body as you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, a desperate attempt to block out the world around you that only leaves your vision scattered.

you fucked up – badly. you're not sure how you're going to recover from the utter humiliation of it all.

if ghost hated you before, you were certain he loathed you now.

to him, this was just another entry on the long list of your mistakes. but to you, not only were you a failure of a soldier, you'd also managed to ruin whatever progress you'd made with getting him to trust you. you don't think you've ever heard ghost so pissed. sure, he's yelled at you before, but to experience such unfiltered anger, it came as a shock to you, as well as the others it seemed.

the sound of footsteps from your right prompts you to hide your face in your hands again. whoever it is, you don't want them to see you like this.

"sting," price's voice calls out to you, as soft as the captain can manage. a small part of you is disappointed it wasn't ghost, coming to apologise, but you know that would never happen. he said it himself, he has no desire to babysit you.

that's all you were to him; a burden, thrust upon him against his wishes, someone he was obligated to look after despite how much of a chore it was.

you just wish you hadn't been so naively optimistic as to assume that he would ever come around to you. that he would ever change.

your spiralling thoughts only make the tears fall even harder. price approaches, you hear rustle of fabric as he sits himself next to you.

a heavy arm rests over your shoulders, the weight of it comforting in an odd way. "it's alright, you're alright." price murmurs.

a moment passes before you lift your head, watching him from the corner of your eye.

"i'm sorry…" your voice is strained, hoarse from the tears and your exhaustion.

he shakes his head. "no need to apologise." he responds, giving your shoulder an affirming pat. you sniffle, fixing him with a questioning look.

"but… i fucked up," you reply, your confusion obvious; you'd expected him to be pissed like ghost, his nonchalance was certainly unexpected. "and we almost died because of me…"

"but we didn't," with the arm around your shoulders he gives you a gentle shake, "the mission was a success, wasn't it?"

"i… yeah?"

"then you got nothin' to be sorry for, have you? people get hurt, that's par for the course, sting." he moves his hand to ruffle your hair, giving you a reassuring smile. "so you can stop with the waterworks an'all,"

you huff, a half-hearted attempt at a laugh, and wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your jacket.

"come on mate, let's get you checked out, yeah?" price stands, grabbing one of your arms and pulling you up with him.

you don't talk on the way to the infirmary, trailing behind him feeling wholly like a child having been scolded. you felt pathetic, and you're glad you have the captain's massive frame to hide yourself behind.

one step through the doors and you're bombarded by the smell of antiseptics and artificial air freshener. the nurse greets you, her placid voice and the gentle hand that guides you to one of the many beds causing your muscles to go rigid.

the captain stands with you, arms crossed over his chest and out of the way of the nurse as she checks you over and runs various checks. you do your best to stay calm, but the cold, clinical environment has a distressing effect on you.

the door opens and shuts behind you. the warning look on price's face tells you exactly who came in. the thick tension is back in the air in an instant

"you–" ghost begins, but you interrupt before he can get another word out.

"i know. i fucking get it, alright?" you snap, rubbing your already bloodshot eyes in exasperation. "you don't have to keep goin' on." your voice gets weaker, a betrayal of how you really feel about his outburst.

heartache.

"i just…" ghost goes to speak again, but price shakes his head at him in a wordless exchange.

he doesn't try again. the door swings open and shut again with his exit.

somehow, your heart aches even more.

the nurse clears you with no major injuries, just scrapes and bruises – nothing you weren't used to. some of your gear was a little singed from the fire, but you'd managed to escape without any burns.

it appeared lady luck had a sense of humour.

you still don't say a word as price leads the way to his office. there's a few people milling around in the corridors, their eyes on you feeling like needles in your skin. you keep your head down and try not to think about the talk you're about to have.

you hear laughter, and lift your head to see that there's a group of three recruits standing against the wall up ahead. the one who appears to be the ringleader watches you approach, snickering with his buddies in a way that has your eyes narrowing. you can tell he's up to something even before he moves, sharing a look with his friends.

has has a lighter in his hand. he waits until you're right in front of him before he ignites it and shoves it in your face, laughing obnoxiously when you flinch away from the gesture.

"ooh, scared, are ya?" his voice is high pitched and infuriatingly mocking. you slap his hand holding the lighter out of your face, and the two recruits behind him laugh at you as well, nudging each other like they're funny.

it makes your blood boil.

the condescending looks, the way they clearly think they're above you, the highschool bully attitude – you just see red.

grabbing him harshly by the front of his jacket, you shove him up against the wall with such aggression it shakes the picture frames.

"shut up–" you seethe, allowing every ounce of pent up frustration and anger and desperation to bleed into your voice, "shut the fuck up!" you pull him back and slam him back into the wall. you find a great deal of satisfaction in the sound his head makes when it collides with the wall.

his friends have stopped laughing, in fact you can't hear anything except the blood rushing in your ears as you repeatedly hit his head against the brick, over and over again.

too much,

it's all too. much.

you're yanked away from him, but your eyes stay locked on the way he clutches the back of his head and shuffles back from you like a dog with its tail between its legs.

it was almost cathartic, you would've smiled, if not for price turning you to face him with a hand on your shoulder. you blink back to your senses, but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad. he had it coming.

"my office. now." his face is hard as he addresses you, looking to the recruits with a similarly displeased look. "and i'll be back for you."

by the hand on your shoulder you're guided away from the wide-eyed recruits, your head still feeling light with the anger the recruit evoked from you.

you're not used to feeling so helpless; the whole situation is frustrating enough, but the feeling of not being able to do anything just makes it all the more infuriating.

you shouldn't have lashed out like that, but it's all been building to a point and it was bound to blow up in your face sooner or later. the last couple of weeks, your struggles with ghost and the fact that you'd fucked it all up again, the general stress of the job – you should've seen this coming, really.

it feels like you're all the way back at square one, and you don't have it in you to try anymore.

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#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

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oakbuggy · 5 months

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Liar, Liar chapter 1

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 1 (NSFW) ~5.2k words

AO3 Link Here!

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Tala grimaced every time a bullet was fired, noisily ripping through the greenery no matter where it was aimed.

She stayed huddled in a thicket, eyes darting through the leaves and flowers and rain.

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. They were supposed to be the scouting party, that’s it, it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. But the tawtute sterile and foul scents proved otherwise.

The sudden downpour helped to mask all individual Navi scents, but it also made it harder to know where anyone was. Seeing a cluster of roots with just enough space for her smaller body to fit, Tala slid into the safety of the crevice, disturbing only blades of grass.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

And she was glad her years of alchemy training didn’t fail her because through the blood, ash, and mist, she smelled a much less offensive sterile scent. The rain was dampening it, but the odor of tawtute fabric stuck to their skin. Just her luck to have a dream walker hovering so close to her, but better her than another. She was technically a warrior, as all alchemists of the Tawkami went through the same rites of passage, but she honestly barely qualified as a fighter. Tala would’ve wildly preferred being someone’s pretty mate and just experiment all day for new recipes and poultices.

Tala stayed absolutely still, her green eyes glued to the entrance of the roots. She looked down at her hands, her entire body folded into the smallest ball she could be, frowning a bit at the scars and scuffles. She could imagine her friend scolding her for paying attention to such things when she was being actively pursued-

A gun’s barrel burst through the entrance of the roots and shot through her hair.

Tala screamed and thrashed, kicking the gun out of the way she forced her body outside of the root’s crevice. She reached into her satchel on her hip and flung coarse powder into the assailant’s face. The rain solidified on the soldier’s face and she scrambled away through the jungle.

The RDA soldier coughed and hissed behind her, empty-handed save for one of the pink flowers that were decorated throughout Tala’s hair. He crushed it and gave chase, abandoning the gun. He didn’t need it.

Tala jumped through all manner of branches and foliage. If she had time to think, Tala would be praying to Eywa now to save her, air burning her lungs.

The dream walker was insufferably graceful, talented at keeping his eyes on her. Tala dared a look back and gasped. She didn’t realize until too late that her foot stepped on only air beyond the edge of a steep glade.

“N-Netey-OOf!” The soldier fully pounced on Tala, which only sent them toppling. Large hands clawed into her sides as the two of them rolled down, slowly coming to a painful stop of groans and blooming bruises on their heads and limbs. Immediately the soldier got to his feet while his target was violently backing away, clawing through the grass. It couldn’t be him, he’s been dead for years now. It was a trick of the light, the rain entered her eye, she was being delusional, desperate.

As if a cruel trick of Eywa’s, Tala found herself back in the start, she had burrowed into a large and hollow tree trunk and was again trapped inside it. From the darkness outside, a hand burst through the entrance and clawed at her hair, impartial as to whether it wanted to pull her out or claw its way inside.

She was slapping, thrashing, the soldier’s large gloved hands were searching for her neck through her thick, loose curls. Her nails caught on the soldier’s green military headband, ripping it off to reveal a large, star-shaped scar on the left side of his forehead. He snarled but now so close, Tala froze.

Sunlillies and tree bark. A nostalgic smell.

She stopped, letting the soldier squeeze her neck, as her wide green eyes blinked upwards, staring at his face.

“Neteyam? Is it really…?” Tala started to whisper, she felt around at his hands. Four fingers, not a dream walker. She kept trembling eyes on his face, it looked so much like him. Even the way his forehead wrinkled when his brow raised in perplexity, now a large scar resting right above it. Yellow eyes met green and all the terror-induced adrenaline Tala had pumping through her was now going straight to her heart.

The soldier had also long stopped, stunned. Stunned by her scent, of spiced honey and rose, scents that he attributed to the environment than to her. The hammering pain he felt in his skull, from his scar, had dissipated drastically. He realized who he was holding.

“Tala.” His voice was low, uncharacteristically unsure.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask all the right questions, the smartest ones, but her mouth stayed silent. The soldier slowly loosened his grip. She looked at the name tag on his uniform. ’T. Sully’.

He allowed some minute bit of space between them, their breaths warming each other up from the cold of the constant rainfall. Tala eyed his scar, blackened and old.

“You’ve been poisoned.” Her throat was dry and her heart was pounding. As if simply saying something was enough, the RDA soldier lunged back into her, his face in her hair and arms encompassing her. She made a strangled, distressed noise.

“N-Neteyam! What are you-“

“Shut up.” It felt like a shadow covered her body, snuffing Eywa’s light on her. The voice, low, husked into the shell of her ears. Cold. It was very cold. The usual comfort she’d feel hearing his voice was missing.

When Tala tried to pull back, Neteyam’s hands tightened painfully around her body, squeezing her impossibly closer. His head hasn’t felt this at peace since he ‘awoke’. The headache was mercifully lessened each time he breathed in the Tawkami girl’s scent. Months felt like decades of torture, something for him to shoulder with each waking moment. Everything hurt his head, it was constant and numbing but somehow, with her…

A whine cried out of her throat, her breath felt constricted. Tala tried to scramble her fingers around the sleeves of his black shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to push him away but to no avail. His tactical harnesses, both on his chest and around his legs, dug into her skin painfully.

“Let go of me.” Tala weakly hissed into his hair even though her arms, though tense, felt so weak. Brittle.

Neteyam hissed.

“Just stay still. Don’t you understand how easy it is for me to kill you?”

Tala stilled, confused. She was used to being admonished, by many people, yet she’s never known the Omaticayan to waste time for a kill. She noticed though the shallow pressure of his broad chest against hers, the lowest and quietest inhale.

He was smelling her.

This na’vi may no longer be Neteyam, a shadow that shared his name, but still, something stirred in Tala when she realized this. Stupid feelings she thought were buried and dead.

“Killing me by smelling me then, are you?” She mumbled, taking the gamble. No matter how overpoweringly soothing her scent was, Neteyam felt irritation rise at her words. That’s right, she’s always been sort of a pain to talk to… They’ve met twice before and both times left him feeling embarrassment and indignation. For what exactly, he couldn’t recall.

Still, his tail swished irritably now. He sat up to see her face to catch a glimpse of those green eyes that constantly taunted whoever had their attention.

Great mother, he wished he didn’t remember her so the thought that she’d only gotten prettier wouldn’t enter his head.

“Don’t push me, Tawkami. How haven’t you changed at all?” He snarled, venom dripping from his maw. Tala frowned and sunk her claws into his uncovered bicep, earning a small hiss. His hands curled again around the column of her neck, lightly squeezing.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she started seeing spots in her vision. Somehow, the universe both gave her a gift and a curse. Eywa returned his body to her, but not his mind. No more gentle hands, no kind eyes, no bashful expressions, or the comfort of his silhouette. She felt so entirely bitter to have hoped at all.

“Maybe I’ve not changed at all…” Tala felt like the headband in her hand was suddenly too heavy, she didn’t want it.

“But you’ve changed too much.” She finished, her stare was acidic.

“I died. And now I’m back and I’m forced to bear the consequences of it.” His voice was stern but quiet. Tala’s brows furrowed. Then her eyes went back to his large scar. From her studies, it truly looked poisoned, festering, and painful but the skin on top was healed. She was confused, na’vi were not the type to hide scars.

Tala reached around and placed his headband slowly back around his forehead. Delicate fingertips felt like burns along his skin and Neteyam was ready to crack her neck at any sign of force.

“The poison?”

No response. She scowled.

“Poison’s made you a bore too?” Tala let out a loud gag when his large thumbs momentarily dug into her throat.

“Still so foolish and mouthy.” The soldier growled. ‘Poisoned’ was a strange way to call his ever-present migraine, but seemed close enough. Unfortunately, the cure to that headache was another one in the form of an incredibly annoying woman. His patience was thinning.

“But you still find me so pretty, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s taking so long, hmm?” Her tone and smile were sickly sweet, just the way he always hated it.

The consequences were immediate, Neteyam nearly buried Tala into the ground, knocking whatever little breath she had left. He forced her legs around him in the struggle and went for her neck to suck and bite. She yelped when rough fingers clenched at her hair and pulled her closer to him.

Her words incensed him and now he knew that Eywa cursed him, why did this loathsome woman have to smell so good, and have to smile so lovely and be so soft?

“You’ve always been so fucking-“

She could feel Neteyam’s tongue and fangs scrape over her neck. Her strangled yelps stopped when Neteyam roughly pushed the stiff tent of his pants against her thigh.

“Annoying, so fucking full of yourself-“

She saw only a flash of golden eyes glaring at her before she felt lips crash onto hers. Fangs clashed against each other and Neteyam stuck his tongue into her mouth. Tala was mortified when she could immediately feel a heat pool in her belly. The musk of his arousal was so dizzying even through the thick camo fabric.

She wanted to say she struggled heroically but in shame, Tala’s will crumbled quickly. The kiss was just so bruising, so angry, she stopped struggling to focus on twisting his tongue and stealing his air.

Neteyam didn’t break the kiss as he ripped the gloves off his calloused hands, now feeling desperate to lose himself in her smell and her softness. He groped at her waist and squeezed the roundness of her hips, now her smell was intoxicating, tinged with her desire. He moaned at the contact, practically rutting his clothed cock against her. Tala could feel slick gather underneath her tewng, she knew for sure a wet spot was already leaking through it.

His hand stilled and Tala could finally look at him, tense. Neteyam seemed only to revel in it, his pupils enlarging further, brows furrowed, he looked near enraged. With him or with her, Tala figured it was probably both.

“What are you doing, Neteyam?” She rasped, conflicted and now hot and bothered. Her only answer was him sucking her clavicle hard, hands now groping at her tits wantonly.

Sense returned to Tala’s head and she started kicking at him, kicking around his much larger, muscular waist.

“Get away-oh!” She screeched when suddenly he was picking her up, making her back bend uncomfortably around the roof of the hollow tree, she was practically sitting on his shoulders now. His head was between her thighs and the wet muscle of his tongue was digging through her tewng, getting her wetter and wetter. She smelled divine here and he licked a long strip over the thin cloth, he could feel her heat on his tongue.

Unable to keep her balance she gripped the back of his head, his neck, the slope of his back, just anything so she wouldn’t topple over. Squeezing her thighs around his face only seemed to goad him on further.

“Neteyam!” Tala said, choking on her drool as the heat of her core rose exponentially with Neteyam’s sudden worshipping.

“I’m going to taste you. Don’t stop me.”

The announcement makes her cunt clench around nothing and she stills. Her face is on fire, she is so conflicted by the way he was squeezing her ass and how completely and uncomfortably drenched her cunt was- Neteyam pushed the tight fabric of her tewng to the side and started lapping at her pussy lips.

“Ooohh, oh, fuck!” She moaned, feeling just so filthy. His rough and wet tongue pressed against her hole, licked long strips against it and he dug for deeper, more of her juices. The more those juices dripped down his face, the more he lapped it up hungrily. He was just fucking gone, nothing hurt anymore and only extreme pleasure was left in his wake. His ego preened as he listened to her muffled whimpers like a favored song, she was not so annoying when his tongue was deep in her cunt like this. He thinks he prefers her like this, hanging onto him desperately, legs wide for him.

Neteyam felt like he could cum from just the sound of her desperate whines alone.

“Net-Nete…” She whispered his name harshly but could barely form it. The coil of heat in her belly was tightening oh so much, and when Neteyam’s nose burrowed further onto her clit, her eyes glazed over in pure ecstasy.

He sucked at her clit and groaned at the sweetness that exploded on his tongue. In his mind, it was his private feast and the satisfaction he got from making this irritable woman melt in his hands was simply an appetizer.

Her eyes rolled back, the spring snapped and she closed her legs impossibly tight around his face as she came so hard she saw white. Her body stiffened, even her tail squeezed tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, and after agonizingly long seconds, her body went limp.

To her vague surprise, he was still completely supporting her despite her relaxing her whole weight over him.

To the extreme surprise of her nerves, he was still swallowing all her excess liquids, now sucking over her reddened and puffy cunt for just a bit more savory sweetness.

“N-nete- I-came…” She said in broken mewls and weakly pawed at his back, eyes starting to water from the overstimulation. He, of course, didn’t stop, he didn’t even hear her. “It’s too much, stop…” She said a bit louder and dug her nails deeper into his back, but still Neteyam didn’t budge.

He basked in massaging her twitching, sticky cunt, the way it pulsated around his tongue, and flinched at every light scrape of his teeth. He only wished he had enough space to soak his fingers in her until she was hiccuping and the pads of his fingers were pruney.

Tala felt another orgasm crash through her and this time she wailed, body staying limp, hair cascading over her and over Neteyam’s back. Her cunt was now hurting and she was struggling to keep conscious.

She blinked at the distance, seeing the flash of yellow plastic. The Compass. She had pressed random buttons in the struggle, trying to get the dog tags or his uniform name as she knew the device could record nature, likenesses. Tala continued trying to blink away tears but before she knew it, her eyes clamped shut and everything went dark to the constantly stinging and tingling texture of Neteyam’s tongue.

It was maybe 20 minutes before the RDA na’vi noticed her noises were considerably muted and her body felt boneless. He swallowed the rest of his fill, he had practically licked her clean before he let her body completely relax on the jungle floor.

He stared down at her figure and took another deep breath, his migraines truly were gone.

She had said that he was poisoned. Neteyam clicked his tongue as he readjusted her coverings and hoisted her over his shoulder.

To the detriment of both of them, she seemed to be the only cure he had for now.

–

When Tala came to, it was as violent as she had never hoped it to be.

She screamed, static coursing through her entire body and when an RDA soldier shut it off, her whole body felt numb. She could barely see the bright white linoleum floor as two combat boots came into view.

A large hand forcefully tilted her head up and she grimaced.

“Well, outta all the biters you could’ve brought back, you chose a pretty one.” The dream walker said, his face was aged and his hair was cut extremely short. He had a square jaw and aged features, along with thick eyebrows. He let Tala’s face fall carelessly as he stood back up straight.

“That better not be the only reason you chose her, Corporal Tom.” His voice was hard. Tala was vaguely aware of her body being strapped vertically onto a table and only able to move around her neck, though she barely had the energy to lift it anyway.

“No, sir, Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It was Neteyam. Voice cold and unfeeling, just like how he had first talked to her. No sunlight, no warmth. “She is of the Tawkami clan and has knowledge of all of Pandora’s natural resources as an alchemist and healer. She will be of use in identifying plants still undiscovered.”

Quaritch simply stared hard at Neteyam, or, Corporal Tom, and grumbled quietly. The Phoenix II reconditioning program had worked almost miraculously well, but the older soldier still had his suspicions. He was somewhat aware of the change he himself was facing since the Skirmish at the Three Brothers years ago, so he had to keep a close eye on the former Sully boy.

It’s been a fast year since his reawakening, and to Quaritch’s knowledge, he was pretty sure the kid spent his ruts alone and barely interacted with those outside of the Recombinant Squad if even them. The… experience left him angry, which was great on the battlefield. Not for making sure his head was all there even in downtime though.

The colonel kneeled low to look at Tala’s face clearly, her head still hanging. Easy on the eyes at least, would it be so bad for him to have his own little fucktoy? It wasn’t regulated, but some prisoners became favored partners of the Recoms or other reawakened Na’vi, if at least to help with their monthly biological needs.

“I know you can understand me doll face, most of the Tawkami does by now.” He started with a cold hostility in his tone. Tala kept silent, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to die, but she’d welcome any return to Eywa with open arms before helping these demons.

“To make everything crystal clear, I’m going to say this once. You make a peep of trouble, we shoot you. You fuck up, we shoot you. We’re not animals mind you, you play by our rules and you can live a reasonable life of use to us. Just don’t give us a reason to kill, and we won’t, sweetheart.” His seethe ended in a cruelly humored smile and Tala was feeling her blood run cold looking at him.

Quaritch rolled his eyes emphatically when she stayed silent.

“Gonna need to hear that you understand, doll face.” He rumbled and she pursed her lips. She nodded.

“…yes. I do.” Tala said, English heavily accented but understandable all the same. Quaritch stood to his full height, carelessly letting go of her face.

He turned to Neteyam with a scowl.

“Well, you got your fucktoy, Corporal Tom. Enjoy it.” He meanly snarled, getting close to Neteyam. The younger didn’t flinch, both of them staring intensely into the other’s glowing eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Quaritch waved his hand and another blast of shock scorched Tala’s body, making her scream in pain. Tala balled her hands and felt tears burn down her face as pain shocked through every bone in her spine.

Quaritch searched Neteyam’s face for any ounce of care, even the faintest inclination to help her. The colonel didn’t want any emotional bullshit conflict, he had his own to deal with.

Not even a flicker towards her figure, despite her screams getting shriller. Quaritch sent the operator a glance and finally, Tala was given a break from the torture. Her whole body sunk, the restraints digging into her skin, though she couldn’t feel it. Tala breathed hard, her body still twitching from the pain. It felt like her eyes and ears were bleeding, she wanted to vomit.

The older soldier smiled lightheartedly.

“Just a little welcome present,” Quaritch said, then passed by the younger and clapped his shoulder. “Look alive, soldier. Get her ready and cuffed. I’ll ask the eggheads which lab needs a hand. Don’t take too long.

When he left the room, Neteyam nodded his head at the operator to also make his exit.

Now they were alone. His footsteps towards her were silent, she only knew he was so close because his shoes came into view.

Tala twisted her head to at least be able to peer up at his face. She was aching thoroughly, but the soreness of her crotch especially made her sport quite a mirthful smile.

“Did you like the taste enough to keep me?”

Neteyam scowled then smirked.

“Almost as much as you liked creaming on my tongue.” He taunted back and his smirk grew as he saw Tala’s pretty smile get wiped off her face instantly.

A surprisingly soft grip supported her chin, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. While he still wore the harness and cargo pants, he was no longer wearing his tactical vest. She could clearly see the broadness of his shoulders, how sculpted and wide his chest was under the tight black shirt. Eywa really picked favorites.

Neteyam’s nose twitched, as it usually did with irritation.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you. At least now you can be of use.” His voice had a sharper edge that made Tala glare at him. The stale light of fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to suit either of them.

“Of use? Like you are to the vrrteps(demons), kavukte(traitor)?” Tala hissed, green eyes flashing with indignation. She wanted to bite his fingers off. Neteyam’s jaw tensed.

“What are you planning, Neteyam? What do you want?” She pushed, her voice much more hoarse than she thought it would be.

“I’m saving this planet by ending the Na’vi people’s resistance, Tawkami. They are being manipulated by Eywa, it’s not their fault, but they refuse to listen. Eywa keeps the People from growing, and she is the reason they suffer now. The humans will save us.” Neteyam said with such finality and clarity that it unsettled her, like lines practiced over and over again.

“Eywa keeps the balance, Neteyam, the vrrteps are selfish, they take and take. You know this, I know you do.” Her voice was pleading now, nerves heightened. She wanted desperately for him to listen to her and see reason.

“Then even this is part of Eywa’s plan, no? To let the sky people take and take. It was the sky people that saved me, not Her.” He said with a growl.

Tala couldn’t bear to listen anymore and ripped her face away from his grip, squeezing her eyes shut.

Wretched words, cruel thoughts that didn’t sound truly like his.

“The vrrteps did not save you, Neteyam. They were the ones that killed you! Lo’ak-.” Four fingers clamped her mouth shut and the amber pool of his eyes seared into hers.

“I remember everything. And my life was over far before Lo’ak’s stupidity got me shot.” He seethed, pupils in threatening and aggressive slits. Tala scowled, ears pinned to the side of her head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He ended my life long before that battle. Then replaced me before my body even turned cold, and now I live every single day in torture!” His words suddenly erupted in anger, violently surfacing above. Resentment emanated from every word and his hurt was suffocating. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to him, she was not the person he needed now. He needed Kiri or Tuk, he needed his family.

Tala was suddenly reminded of how small a part of his life she really embodied. At most a week’s worth of memories, years stretched in between. Barely any history.

She wanted to entertain that maybe it was her good looks and charming personality that made her memorable, but Tala wasn’t completely dumb. Neteyam had always been surrounded by attractive, talented navi, better yet, members of his own clan he could court.

Those infuriatingly beautiful eyes, making her think unnecessary things right then. Because that time was over, and these feelings didn’t matter. They never have.

“So your life is over, and now you’re ‘Corporal Tom’. Why does the Corporal want me?” Tala wondered out loud, biding for time as she scanned the room. White, eye-achingly so, metallic, plastic, unnatural, sterile, cold.

His waw tensed as he didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s looking like you’re obsessed with me.” Tala said with an entirely syrupy sweet and contemptuous smile. A fire started growing in her mind.

He lived every day in pain. And the scar looked blackened; poisoned and now hidden. Navi don’t hide scars. And suddenly he’s smelling her and eating her out as if she was his ambrosia.

Tala crinkled her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, does being around me help with the hurt, poor sky demon warrior?”

When Tala saw his tail swishing in angry large strokes, she knew her answer, unable to contain how pleased she was now. It was laughable, for both of them, truly! She went through her mental alchemy compendium, considering what and how effected him. Relief through her scent, then arousal? Or minor dosage of comfort through scent then a substantial through oral consumption?

Tala sighed internally, this would have been a wonderful opportunity to experiment with the effects of this mind poison if it wasn’t for all the guns and threats and torture.

Neteyam suddenly and wordlessly stripped off her floral top.

“Neteyam!” She screeched, though his eyes just wandered along her chest, tits soft and dotted with dark pink nipples. Tala flinched violently away when large fingers pinched at her flesh, but still they continued to play and bruise the sensitive buds without care. Tala strangled a mewl in her throat, mortified. He had stayed too silent all this time, she should have known something was boiling in him.

And indeed there was, he hated her insolence and her overactive brain, how she pieced things together so damningly quickly.

“Nothing will get you to shut up, will it.” Neteyam mused out loud, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He pinched it hard and Tala yelped.

“Remind yourself that you have no power here, Tawkami. At most, you’re a stress toy.” He said in a deceptively simplistic manner. As if to make the point stick he stuck thick gloved fingers in her mouth, pushing teeth and tongue. Neteyam stared, daring her to bite him. She didn’t.

“Smart toy, good toy.” He mumbled then, eyes narrowing in self-satisfaction. Tala’s face went hot but she kept compliant.

“Stay good, and I won’t break that thin neck.” Neteyam said, pushing his fingers in her mouth deeper. She gagged and Neteyam felt a familiar throbbing in his pants.

He stopped and then leaned over her like a predator, almost growling.

“I can smell how bad you want me. If you’re good, I’ll fuck the brat out of you until you’ve had your fill.”

Tala closed her eyes, just so completely humiliated yet so aroused, it made her fume. Neteyam smiled smugly when he saw her expression. He liked seeing her when she was too frustrated to do anything else but let her face turn red.

Tala grumbled something under her breath. His ears caught something about him being a horny psychotic asshole. So he proved her point.

“AH!” Sharp fangs sunk into the crook of her neck. He was-he was biting her, marking her! Neteyam was nearly crushing her small shoulders still as he bit down, blood beading and staining her skin.

“Great Mother, what is wrong with you?!” Tala was screaming, now jerking her body this way and that. She didn’t care that it made it more painful, she didn’t care that flecks of her blood were landing on his face and the rest of her body.

But neither did he, he let his fangs stay sunk into her skin, he seemed to be enjoying her struggling, the fucking asshole-

When Neteyam finally stood up, there were thin dribbles of saliva and blood running down his chin and he wiped it off with the heel of his glove carelessly.

Tala was breathing hard, confused and so horribly aroused, she didn’t even want to know how much of a mess she looked then. Her skin was on fire, she was barely aware of the tears running down her cheeks, tears of anger.

Her green eyes shined brighter in her shock, pink lips parted in terrible confusion. Her hair was a mess, braids no longer neat and curls in her face, sticking to her cheeks with her tears. And now the side of her neck, bitten into and punctured, like a pearl necklace of blood.

Neteyam thought it was the prettiest he’d ever seen her. And by Eywa his head felt the most relieved it’s been by far.

“A horny, psychotic asshole, right?” He said smugly, daring any more rebellion from her in his tone and she glared viciously at him. Neteyam merely kept his head raised and roughly pulled up her top.

He turned away and left once the doors slid open, whispering something to the tawtute waiting outside. He didn’t take any look back, he didn’t need to.

Tala felt hostility bubble in her gut, marking was for mates, not whatever the hell this was. Not from whatever he was!

The scientist walked in and pulled out a needle, making her ears pin to the back of her head. The injection went in so quickly, Tala could only remember those yellow eyes, searing into her.

It made her want to gag.

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Text

Oh dear sweet god

Why do I do this to myself

This goof has such a chokehold on my heart I just CANNOT

Working on P is for Public of ABC's of Kink, but it's getting split into two. Part one is SFW, part 2 will be very much NSFW. Already working in it and planning to have it up tonight.

And awaaaaay we gooo—

I lied part 3 will be NSFW don't hurt me

Blacksmith's Daughter

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 here

Series: ABC's of Kink

Letter: P is for Public

Wordcount: 2.7k

Tags: SFW, NSFW (part 3 only), fluff, hurt/comfort other stuff maybe

LA!Shanks X AFAB!Reader

Dear gods I loved writing this one

To say you were in a pickle would have been a grievous understatement.

You and a close friend had been caught sneaking around a Marine base after getting the bright idea to break into their treasury vault. For a few years since your father's death you had been down on your luck, and it had seemed a quick ticket to dragging yourself out of the gutter. You had become over that time a particularly skilled thief, and the training you had recieved from your father in blades, not to mention the pair of cutlasses he had smithed for you, didn't hurt your chances.

And you had been forced to give yourself up after your friend was killed while resisting arrest.

Thrown onto a Marine ship bound for Impel Down, locked in the brig with your hands and feet bound in irons. No family, no friends, set to rot for at least the next few years in prison, if not for the rest of your life.

You were fairly certain your situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

The officer guarding the brig was leaning against the desk across from the stairs that led up to the main deck of the ship, polishing his rifle with a rag and gun oil and whistling to himself. He had an easy enough time of it—you were the only prisoner there, and you weren't bothering to give him a hard time. You had been aboard the damnable ship for three days, stiff and sore from your limited range of movement in the heavy shackles clamped around your wrists and ankles, the gravity of your situation weighing heavily on you, and there really wasn't any fight left in you.

Sudden shouting from the deck overhead made him pause and look up the stairs, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cap as you both listened.

"Open fire!"

"Pirates!"

"All hands! Man the guns!"

The officer glanced into your cell, shouldering his rifle as he tossed his rag on the desk and pointed at you.

"Not a peep, wench."

You just leaned back against the wall of the cell with a sigh. "Yup."

So your situation could get worse. Wonderful.

The ship rattled and shook, the cannon fire making your ears ring. Bits of the ceiling fell into the cell around you. You flinched when a hole was blown through the wall of the cell next to your own, the cannon ball rolling across the floor and clanging against the bars. Rather than rotting in prison, you were just flat out going to die.

A fitting end for a miserable few years.

And then all at once, you heard another voice call for ceasefire. The cannon fire stopped first, and slowly the sounds of fighting on the deck above your head fell into relative silence, peppered with animated chatter and laughter.

That could only mean one thing—the Marines had lost.

And your suspicions were confirmed when, a few minutes later, one of the senior cadets on board burst through the doors and sprinted down the stairs into the brig in an outright panic, whimpering, attempting to draw his pistol with shaking hands—but not before he was followed by a broad-shouldered man with a long black ponytail, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, holding a large rifle with one hand and leveling the barrel between the young Marine's eyes.

The pirates had won. You weren't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oh, don't shoot the kid, Benn, just get him restrained."

You watched another pirate stroll down the stairs and lean into the wall at the edge of them, bright red hair framing his face, a long black cape hanging around one of his shoulders, and a pair of cutlasses slung over his shoulder—your cutlasses. He set them lightly on the desk and patted his crewmate on the shoulder a couple times as he passed.

There was only one man on the Grand Line that matched his description, and even having lived in a town too far inland to have had much experience with pirates, you had heard of him—Red-Haired Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, who held one of the highest bounties in the world.

"Be quicker to shoot him." Benn shrugged a shoulder. "Or just coldcock him over the head."

"Kid's probably already shit himself." Shanks grabbed a coil of rope from the wall and tossed it across to him. "No use adding injury to insult."

Benn rolled his eyes over toward his captain...and then his gaze flicked back a bit, landing on you as you glanced warily between him and Shanks. Benn gave a nod toward your cell, and your heart went from racing to ceasing entirely when Shanks turned his head and locked his gaze with your own.

He lifted his eyebrows a bit, his dark brown eyes glinting.

"Well, hello there." You swallowed as he approached the cell slowly. He wrapped his hand around one of the bars, leaning forward. Evidently your anxiousness was written all over your face, as he said next, reassuringly, "Don't worry love, we don't bite. Unless you make the idiot decision of opening fire on my ship," he added, raising his voice just a bit and tilting his head to look back at the Marine cadet, who was putting up absolutely no fight over having his hands tied behind his back now.

Shanks directed his gaze back over to you, flashing a charming grin. "So what're ya in for, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath, and forced yourself to speak. "I—I, er—"

"She snuck into the base in Nanohana and attempted to break into the treasury vault," the cadet chimed in, and flinched as Benn shoved him down to sit against the wall.

He then grabbed the gun-oil rag from the desk and stuffed it in the cadet's mouth.

"Nobody asked you, kid," he said, leaning against the adjacent wall and crossing his arms, his rifle propped up against the wood paneling beside him.

Shank's grin only widened at that. "Did you really?" You nodded shortly, and he chuckled. "God, what a horrible crime," he went on, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone knows the World Government is horrifically impoverished and doesn't have a single Berry to spare." He leaned a bit closer, resting his head against one of the iron bars. "How far did you get?"

"W...we had just gotten the vault open before we were surrounded," you said quietly. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, as they widened and his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, completely taken aback.

"Impressive," he said, his eyes passing over you slowly. He bit the corner of his lip thoughtfully, before his eyes returned to yours. "You said we. You have a crew?"

You shook your head. "It was just me and my friend. Well...more like my brother, really." Your eyes dropped to your knees for a moment. "He didn't make it," you said quietly, still not quite able to process it. Your best friend, your only friend, who you had known for twenty-three years, since you were a toddler.

Gone.

When you lifted your eyes back to the red-haired captain, his expression had softened considerably, mouth turned down in a small frown, his amusement replaced with genuine concern. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sweetheart," he said gently. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out as a slow sigh, before flipping his cape out of the way and taking a seat on the floor—and you noticed with a bit of shock as the cloak shifted that the left sleeve of his loose white shirt was empty.

He rest his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin into his palm, hand curled over his mouth for a long moment.

"Arabasta is around three days from here," he said finally. "Provided the wind cooperates, and honestly we could do with making port. We'd be more than happy to take you home."

You swallowed, your heart still pounding, still anxious, but for a different reason now. This man, who didn't even know your name, who was gazing at you with a gentle compassion spread across his handsome features that you were entirely unaccustomed to, offering to go out of his way just to get you home—this man had a bounty of over three billion berries?

After a moment, you shook your head. "Wouldn't be much use," you said, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't exactly have a home."

"Any family?" You shook your head—your father's death had been wholly unexpected, and led ultimately to the closing of his smithy, where the two of you and your "brother"—his apprentice—had also lived. Within less than a month you had been on the streets. "Friends?"

His face fell a little more every time you shook your head no. He ran the pad of his index finger over the top of his lips, glancing briefly at Benn.

Back at you, looking at you almost like you were a poor, abandoned puppy he wanted to take home.

He glanced at Benn again, longer this time, until his first mate sighed, straightening out from the wall. "I'll figure out who's got the keys," he said, already starting toward the door.

"Good man."

From the slam you heard, you were fairly sure he kicked the door open at the top, and his voice boomed over the loght chatter on the deck.

"Alright, you assholes. I'm gonna ask one of you who's got the keys to the brig. I don't get an answer in ten seconds, you're getting an extra hole in your head, and I move onto the next guy."

Your eyes widened a little as you looked toward the stairs, moving back over to Shanks as he laughed a little.

"Has a real knack for subtlety, doesn't he?" he said with a crooked grin. He leaned back, planting his hand on the floor behind him. "Seems you have two options, love. You can stay here, with a bunch of tied up Marines who want to take you—where, Impel Down?" You nodded, and he returned the nod. "Or..." He cooked his head slightly to one side, his grin widening a little. "We can break you out of here and you can come with us."

You blinked a few times. "And...go where?" you said slowly.

Her shrugged a shoulder. "Wherever the wind and the waves carry us."

He was asking you to join his crew. You felt your eyes widen a bit, and Shanks laughed softly when he saw his meaning had sunk in.

"I'd choose the latter option, personally," he said. "Never hurts to have another good thief on board."

"You...can't really say I'm a good thief, given..." You glanced down pointedly at the iron shackles around your ankles. "Well, circumstances."

"Ah..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone makes mistakes early in their career. How long have you been thieving?"

"Two years," you said. "Since my father died. Mostly just...pick-pocketing and sneaking money pouches off vendors. This was the first actual break-in."

His eyes widened a bit. "Your first actual break-in," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk, "was into a Marine base in a major city?"

You shrugged a shoulder, and nodded. He huffed out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Oh, I like you," he said in a low, flirtatious tone, his eyes making a slow pass over you that made your heart speed up and blood rush to your cheeks. "So tell me, princess...." He finally leaned forward again, resting his arm across his knee, and went on with a debonair grin. "Is there a pretty name to go with that pretty face?"

You managed to stammer out your name, your eyes wide as saucers. His smile softened as he shook his head a little, his gaze locked firmly onto yours as he spoke one word softly.

"Beautiful."

You jumped when the door opened, and both of you looked over as Benn descended the stairs, flicking a spent cigarette butt at the Marine cadet still seated in the corner. He tossed a ring of keys over to Shanks.

"Already informed everyone we have a new thief on the crew," he said flatly, tossing a ring of keys over to Shanks.

Shanks swiped them out of the air, grinning. "And how do you know that? I don't recall telling you."

Benn gave him a look equally as flat as his tone.

"Oh, lighten up, you grumpy old bastard," said Shanks jovially, pulling himself to his feet. Your eyes were glued to the keys as he flipped one out and tried it in the cell lock.

It didn't open.

"So what're we doing about this?" said Benn, gesturing broadly. "Caravel full of tied up Marines. Sink her? Just leave her adrift?"

Shanks shrugged. "Might as well just leave it. Take anything that isn't nailed to the floor."

There was a muffled sound of protest in the corner, and both men turned their gaze to the cadet.

Shanks tried the second key, with no success, as the cadet managed to turn his head and tug the cloth out of his mouth with traction from the shoulder of his coat. "Y—you can't just—there's no telling when another Marine ship will come by!"

Shanks snorted. "Or another pirate ship." He flipped to the next key, smirking. "So you'd rather I sink her?"

"W—well, no, but—but we—"

Benn had evidently heard enough. He rolled his eyes as he stooped down to pick up the cloth, and the cadet's jaw snapped shut immediately. Sighing in irritation, he grabbed the kid by his nose and held his nostrils shut until he was forced to open his mouth to take a gasp of air.

And Benn immediately shoved the cloth back into his mouth, and pointed a finger an inch from his nose. "Do it again and it'll be the last thing you ever do. Got it?"

The cadet nodded quickly, his eyes wide circles of terror.

The third key turned, and the lock clicked. You expelled a heavy sigh of relief at the sound. Shanks chuckled lightly as he watched you lean your head back against the damp wall behind you. "No need to worry, love," he said, kneeling down at your feet and flipping to the attached set of smaller keys for the cuffs and shackles. "I can pick a lock when I need to." He freed the first one, leveling his eyes with yours, and a small shiver coursed up your spine as he reached out and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb briefly caressing your flushed cheek. "I'm not letting a few iron bars and chains keep me from you."

"Oh dear god," Benn grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes, and you almost giggled a little, biting your lip. The guy wasn't wrong, Shanks was laying it on pretty thick.

Though you weren't really complaining.

Shanks glanced back at him as he set to unlocking the second shackle, feigning surprise. "Oh, are you still here?" he said with a sarcastic smirk. He turned his attention back to the irons. "I fear I forgot there was anyone else in the room for a moment."

He glanced up and gave you a little wink before tossing the shackles away, and touched your shoulder lightly to indicate for you to lean forward so he could get to the cuffs wrapped around your wrists.

Benn leveled his eyes with yours, glancing at his captain, and gave a small snort of laughter. "Good luck."

And with that, he headed back up the stairs.

"Oh, don't listen to him, sweetheart."

Shanks chuckled, leaning over you to quickly unlock the shackles, so close you could feel the heat of his body, smell the leathery scent of his cologne mingling with a subtler hint of spiced rum. Your heart raced as he stood back up, dropped the cuffs, and held out his hand, smiling.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, before placing your hand in his. He pulled you to your feet...and then flush against his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"I promise I'm perfectly harmless."

#opla #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #shanks one piece #shanks x reader #help i love him #one piece fan fiction #opla fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort

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mcntsee · 8 months

Text

cold

summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.

warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.

notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #

On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.

The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.

One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.

The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."

Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.

With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."

The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."

The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."

In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.

Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.

Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."

Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.

As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.

“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”

Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.

As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.

“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”

Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.

With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”

Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.

He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.

Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.

“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”

With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.

His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.

“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”

Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.

Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.

Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.

Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.

Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.

Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”

Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”

Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.

In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #fluff #kaz brekker #oneshot

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agustdiv1ne · 4 months

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serial killer!yeonjun and serial killer!reader but yeonjun tries to seduce you but doesnt know you are just as crazy as him, then both of you end up trying to kill eachother before coming up with the idea of working together.

i've been thinking abt this since u first sent it in. anon what the hell. u r crazy (marry me rn.)

warnings: dark content!! mdni + ageless blogs dni, fem!reader, murder, vvv brief smut, knives, guns, they are both insane HFHSHDJ

serial killer!yeonjun picks up women at bars. he likes the ones who come alone — they're the easiest to seduce, knowing that the attention he gives them make them feel good, wanted...he proceeds to make them feel even better by tying them up and fucking them into his mattress. it's the least he can do, after all, knowing what is going to happen to them.

he always switches up which bar he goes to; he isn't fucking stupid, he knows the cops are trying to find him after how many victims he's had. so he switches it up, makes sure his movements have no discernable pattern. so far, it's been successful. there's too much on the line for it not to be.

new night, new bar: he sees you, sitting all alone in your pretty dress, and decides that you're the one. he flirts and talks you up all suave, buttering you up until you agree to take your conversation somewhere more private — his house. all the while, he's picturing what you'll look like when he's finished with you, all butchered up to his liking...

then, you're pulling a knife on him in the middle of you riding him.

it happens after you outright refuse to be tied up. "it makes me claustrophobic," you had pouted, so just this once, he breaks his own rules, only to feel the sharpened edge of the switchblade you'd pulled out from your bra against his throat. a sadistic smile paints your face, but he's much stronger than you, flipping you so that you're under him with the blade pointed towards you. while he gets off on the fear that fills his victims' eyes, the desperate pleas to let them go, you don't do any of that. instead, you smile up at him and dare him to kill you.

for some reason, he can't. for some reason, he lets you go — but then he sees you again and tries to kill you. and again, and that time you try to return the favor. it's a sick little game you've come up with, but eventually things like this get old. they get boring, and neither of you particularly enjoy boring.

so the next time you catch him, the cool metal of a gun barrel placed against his temple, you propose that you work together. he hesitates. another person means twice the risk of getting caught. you seem to know what you're doing, though, so he agrees to your little offer. the rest is history.

there's an odd sort of detachment in your relationship, more business than love, but both of you make it up to each with...gifts. not the traditional kind, no, but victims, all bound and waiting to be slaughtered. it's so intimate, isn't it, to know each other so well you know exactly what they like? both of you think so, giggling and sharing poisonous kisses as you work together to dismember the body of a woman you'd lured back to his place, one that looks somewhat similar to you...

#this is a fic idea in the making #i need to flesh this out more #txt smut #txt x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #dark content #agust.nsfw #asks #anon

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cpt-winters · 2 months

Text

Hostage / Kidnapping Whump - Part 4/4 (Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Whumpee strained against the manacles, getting no closer to freedom as Whumper dragged the knife, his knife, across Leader's chest, trailing crimson behind the split the skin.

The mercenary paused, blood dripping from the blade's fine edge. "Tell me what I want to know and I'll stop."

"I'll kill you-" Whumpee snarled. "I'll fucking kill you!" He twisted at the bindings, growling as only his skin loosened. The metal squeaked in mockery, sturdily locked in place.

"Whumpee," Leader half-whispered, bloodied chest heaving up and down at the effort. "Stop. Please.."

Whumpee tore his gaze away, locking his jaw as the drill whirred up, focusing on anything else but the metal squelching into flesh. He bit back a wince, the corner of his eye stinging as his sergeant's screams melded with the screeching drill.

Whumper froze, the drill dying down as alarms blared outside the corridor. The mercenary took a step back, widened eyes flicking toward the barred door. He staggered back, releasing Whumpee's restraints as the door swung open.

Whumpee clawed at his captor's forearm as the other pulled his gun, dragging him to the wall.

"Put him down!" Teammate One warned, weapon trained on the pair.

Whumpee let out a shaky breath, head inching back as the mercenary jammed the gun under his chin. They came. They really came.

"Not one step closer."

No. No, Whumper wasn't going to use him to hurt his team. Not again.

Whumpee swatted the gun's barrel away, heat searing his palm as a bullet thudded into the ceiling. Whumper let out a yelp, wrist twisting as Whumpee turned, wrestling him for the weapon.

"Whumpee-!"

A second shot rang out, then a third.

Whumper's eyes widened as he toppled, scarlet pooling around him. Whumpee's gaze fell with him, glued to the other.

"Shit- shit! Are you okay?" Teammate Two rushed to his side, hand impossibly gentle as they placed it on his shoulder.

He nodded, darkness dancing into his vision as it remained fixed on Whumper. "Jus' get Leader."

Whumpee lifted a hand to his chest as the footsteps receded, world swaying before his knees buckled under him. Muffled voices and rushed footsteps morphed into the same incomprehensible haze in his ears, his face stinging against the rough cement.

"...ee? Whumpee?"

A muted whimper escaped him as a set of hands turned him over, battered body crying out in protest.

"Come on- Stay with me," his sergeant pleaded, blood swiftly seeping through his fingers as he pressed them to Whumpee's chest. "Don't you dare die on me!"

"S-sorry boss..."

"No, no no- Whumpee!

...Whumpee?"

Tagslist - @dutifullykrispyland @gala1981 @jinxquickfoot @hostagesituations

#whump #defiant whumpee #team whump #team dynamics #team leader whump #leader whump #captivity whump #military whump #whump snippet #interrogation whump #torture whump #multiple whumpees #rescue whump #character death #(possibly)#hostage whump #kidnapping whump #emotional whump #angst

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patchworkorphan · 4 months

Text

Heroic Betrayal: part two

Continued from this

Hero stared at them; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Other Hero beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed their smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Don’t move,” came Villain’s voice over Hero’s shoulder. Hero lifted their head slightly, only to have the barrel press into their head and push it down again to face Flynn. “I will shoot you. Give him your handcuffs.”

Hero glared down at Flynn who looked entirely too pleased with himself. The barrel pressed Hero’s head down further impatiently.

“Now.”

Still Hero didn’t move. They didn’t know what to do but they knew they couldn’t just stay frozen like this forever. It was so hard to think with their heart beating fast against their chest. They needed to do something.

Flynn was a villain…

Forget it. Focus.

Flynn moved below Hero drawing them out of their trance. Flynn removed his hands from behind his head, reaching up to Hero’s waist and slid his hands to Hero’s back, unclipping the power dampening cuffs from their belt. He opened them with an easy flourish of his wrist.

Hero dodged to the right, one foot on the ground while they rounded their other foot out to Villain’s hand kicking the gun out of it. They followed the movement through, their second foot landing on the ground behind them so they stood with their knees slightly bent. Hero pressed their heels down into the dirt and lunged for Villain, catching them around the waist and they went rolling. Hero threw a punch once they stopped, but Villain caught it and clamped their fingers down on Hero’s fist, not letting go.

The corner of Villain’s lips quipped into a smile before shadows engulfed Hero's fist like a glove, and Villain squeezed Hero’s fist crushing it with their shadows. Hero cried out, ripping themselves away and stomping a heavy boot down on Villain’s armpit. Villain let go with a grunt, and Hero fell backwards, catching themself before they hit the ground. Hero stepped back, their shoulder hitting a tree, as they cradled their fist against their chest.

From Hero’s position they could see Flynn who was now standing, smiling, holding Hero’s handcuffs in their hand like it was a sure thing, like they weren’t afraid of Hero getting away from them. It made Hero’s skin crawl and blood boil at the same time.

How could he just stand there and be so nonchalant about being a villain. How did hero never notice? Never see! They were such an idiot.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Flynn said as Villain got to their feet. Hero had to fight. They had to.

Hero stood up straighter, shaking out their wrist before reaching one hand behind their back, the other over their shoulder and drew their long, curved daggers from their sheaths. The black blades glinted beautifully up at Hero, an extension of their arm and the world seemed to right itself once more. The familiar click of their power humming once their blades settled comfortably in their palm.

Hero set their jaw, glaring at Flynn, and said: “go fuck yourself.”

Villain rolled their eyes, reaching down to pick up their gun. “I told you they’re more trouble than they’re worth,” said Villain, tone bored.

Flynn’s head tilted to the side. “I know, but aren’t they just adorable?”

Hero lunged for Flynn, and Flynn ducked out of the way. Hero manoeuvred back easily, shooting their right up in a feint, Flynn dodged to the left and Hero grinned as they got the blade of their left under Flynn’s throat.

“Hero…” Flynn said with their beautiful voice and Hero could feel the edges of their vision blur. They shook their head quickly, shoving Flynn away. “Stop fighting us, Hero. Come willingly.”

Hero stopped, feeling weak, their guard lowering just a smidge. The compulsion moving through their mind like molasses, making them sluggish. Hero bit down hard on the inside of their cheek, drawing blood and the taste of iron sharpened them again.

They drew their daggers up.

Only one blade raised. Hero frowned, their head turning slowly down to their side to see a glove of shadows enshrouding their arm up to the middle of their forearm.

The shadows pulsed darkly and squeezed around Hero’s wrist until they let out a sudden painfilled cry. Hero reached over trying to claw the shadows away with their free hand, but their hand went straight through the shadows to their arm. The shadows intangible. To Hero’s horror when they pulled their hand away the shadows had wrapped around both.

Hero had barely a second to register it before the shadows pulsed again, a deep all-encompassing black and the pain intensified tenfold. The shadows were so cold, too cold and empty but they burned, as if Hero was submerged in the Arctic ocean. It felt like the shadows were burning cold under Hero's skin. Ice raced through their veins as white flashed behind Hero’s eyes, and they were screaming the only thing that seemed to bring any heat back into their body. Hero didn't even notice that they dropped their precious daggers beside them.

Every muscle in their body seized up with the blinding pain as Hero fell to their knees, gasping in shaky breaths as the excruciating pain ebbed into a sickening cold that left Hero shivering. Tears they didn't know had fallen turning cold on their cheeks. Hero was exhausted, even breathing was too much effort: their breath dredged up from their lungs, Hero heaving in heavy air. Even the darkness seemed too bright all of a sudden.

A pair of boots advanced before them, a hand went under their chin tilting their Head up to see Flynn standing above them, regarding them with a mimicry of pity. “I told you to come the easy way, Hero,” he said.

The cuffs of shadow raised Hero’s wrists to meet Flynn’s hands and he locked the cuffs down snug against Hero’s wrists. Hero felt the familiar sizzling of power beneath their veins fade and become nothing but a knowing ache, like there was something missing that is supposed to be there. Powerless. Hero barely had it in them to care, mind still hazy from the pain as the shadows dissipated under the cuffs.

Flynn reached down, scooping up Hero’s daggers and sheathed them behind Hero’s back. The action alone made Hero want to sob, the cruelty of having the opportunity to fight back so close and not being able to reach it.

“Let’s not dally any longer, Flynn. We don’t know if they called for reinforcements.”

“Don’t worry,” said Flynn, looking down at Hero with a fond smile. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Hero’s ear as he said: “they didn’t.”

Hero shivered at their easy confidence. Hero knew Flynn and Flynn knew Hero, inside and out, they were partners... Flynn put their hands under Hero’s elbow and started guiding them up, but Hero pulled away. “Get away from me,” Hero spat, venom lilting every syllable.

The shadows reappeared at Hero’s arms, and they glared up at Villain, though they thought they were going to have a heart attack at the simple threat.

“He likes you. He wants you. He is the only thing keeping me from unleashing the shadows to wrangle some more of your pretty little tears, and cute little screams from your lips. So, if I were you, I’d listen to him and stand the fuck up, Hero.”

Hero glared at Villain, then looked down to the shadow still clinging threateningly to their arms and sucked in a sharp breath. When Flynn offered to help them up again, this time Hero let them. Hero felt bile rise in their throat when Flynn touched them, but they sucked it up for the moment. It was better than having Villain’s shadows torture them.

“There you go, Hero. See how nice it can be when we’re civil? Trust me, we’ll have fun together,” Flynn said, disgustingly chipper. “The three amigos!”

The cold air bit into Hero’s skin as they walked through the woods, Flynn walking beside them and Villain striding ahead, alert, and ready. Their muscles still shaking after the unnatural use of Villain's shadows on them.

“How long?” Hero croaked. They didn’t mean for it to come out as broken as it did; like they were a wounded dog, a stupid puppy who got kicked and kept coming back for more.

Flynn was gentle as they said: “as long as we’ve been friends, if that’s what you mean. Longer, before I even joined the academy. I guess I’ve always been a Villain, the rouse was the hero business.”

“We met at the academy. When you told me that you wanted to help people from the dregs—”

“I do,” said Flynn sincerely, and it sounded so convincing. “I just don’t think being a Hero will let me do it. Supervillain—”

“Terrorises the city!” Hero bit out. Flynn just sighed.

“Well, you’ll understand when you meet them.”

Hero’s blood ran cold, their feet slowing to a stop. Flynn glanced at Villain’s back, then stepped in front of Hero, their once kind eyes that were so reassuring now only served to terrify Hero, as if they looking into a stranger's. “You’re bringing me to Supervillain?”

“Of course. After I told Supervillain who was single handedly thwarting our every attack, seeing through every diversion…” Flynn said with a coy smile, eyes flashing with something Hero had never seen in them before. Flynn’s voice dipped as they said, “well let’s just say they were intrigued.”

Hero’s blood was pumping in their ears as they swallowed the lump in the throat, forcing themselves to speak, not to cry. Don’t cry.

“You… you were always with me… following my lead. I thought you trusted me. I thought— but after,” Hero’s eyes hardened as they shoved Flynn in the chest, pushing them back a step. “All this time you were just keeping an eye on me! You fucking— you knew Sidekick was—”

Hero’s eyes widened then, and they wanted to get sick. “You went with Sidekick… they didn’t meet Other Villain at all, did they?”

Flynn’s intelligent eyes turned cruel, drawing a sadistic smile onto his face. He reached up and grabbed Hero’s chin between his index finger and thumb, pinching it. He didn’t let Hero escape as they tried to move their head back, he just tightened his grip until it turned painful. Hero reached up again to shove Flynn back, but Flynn caught their arm and held them down, as if Hero's struggles were non-existent.

“See what I mean, Hero? So intelligent. So clever. Supervillain will love you.”

Flynn grabbed Hero’s elbow again. This time his grip was harsh and tight as he dragged Hero along with him to catch up with Villain, and Hero didn't bother to waste their energy struggling anymore. They had to relax and save their energy for the right moment.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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nethhiri · 2 months

Text

Marooned: Chapter 6

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Light Smut, NSFW, Minors DNI (as always)

Innopportune Timing

Out of the kindness of your heart, you let Kid and Killer sleep in your treehouse. First, you had wrapped up your more important items into a big leaf, mostly so that Kid wouldn't go through your shit, but if you were leaving this island soon, you would have to pack it up anyway. There were only a few items you wanted to take with you, one of which being your gun. It was fairly unique and you had made it yourself a long time ago, with some improvements since then. It was essentially a double-barreled revolver, set into an over-sized hunting knife. The blade was nestled right between the two barrels. Actually, you were fairly certain you had it with you when you encountered the newly-minted Kid Pirates. See, the cool thing about it was that you could hold the blade to someone's neck and have someone else at gunpoint at the same time. Which is exactly how you had gotten the best of your two friends at the time, Killer under your blade and Kid in your sights. You had sea prism stone built into it, otherwise Kid would have made quick work of you. Much like now, your observation haki sucked though and the next thing you remembered after that was waking up in a med bay with a head injury. It had probably been long enough that they'd forgotten about it. They'd probably been in much more memorable scuffles since then. Still, you didn't plan on showing it off any time soon.

Killer was able to take the little tincture you had created for him and had quickly fallen asleep. With both of them in the treehouse, there was very little room to move. You had taken your things and put them on the roof, where you had slept. Occasionally you would sleep there of your own volition just to watch the stars. The leaves that made up the roof weren't that uncomfortable to be honest. You didn't hear Killer cough once during the night. That was good. You really didn't want to use your devil fruit. It took a lot of energy from you and you still hadn't completely figured it out yet. Especially with sharing your resources, you didn't have the energy to spare. Just because Killer was quiet, didn't mean you had slept well. Kid had an awful snoring problem. The Kid Pirates are having the best sleep of their lives right now. That's probably why they haven't tried to find their bastard of a captain yet.

The following day, you went about your normal routine and left them to themselves. The little dose of human interaction felt unfamiliar and combined with being cranky from lack of sleep, you wanted time alone. You walked along the beach, picking some non-poisonous fruits and snacking as you looked out at the horizon. Squinting, you tried to make out any sign of a ship. Nothing. Every now and then you could hear branches being snapped near the edge of the jungle. Seemed like Mini was hoping to scavenge your scraps. The beach had nothing to offer except for several semi-recognizable blue or white pieces. Killer's helmet. Finding more of them occupied the majority of your time until the sky started turning orange. If you found enough of them, you might be able to fix it. Technically, he owed you enough already at this point, but you genuinely did enjoy fiddling with and putting things together again.

Returning to your treehouse, you put the fragments with your other things and checked on Killer again. You saw where Kid had at some point collected things that looked edible. Appraising the pile, you tossed about three quarters of the stuff out the hatch of the treehouse. Well, if he ate any of that, he's probably busy shitting out in the woods. You shook your head. He doesn't learn. Sighing, you made sure Killer was fine for the time being, and made your way back out of the treehouse.

For some reason you couldn't shake this 'off' feeling you had and your feet had taken you to the spring. It was your happy place, offering some calming, meditative setting. I guess I could go for a dip. You couldn't swim, courtesy of your devil fruit, but this wasn't salt water and the water was only chest deep. The sound of the small waterfall that fed into the pool was always nice to listen to and the coolness of the water felt refreshing on your skin after a long day in the hot sun. Wading into the water, the shirt-dress you wore was quickly tossed to the side. You dipped your head under the trickling water falling from the overhead rocks and attempted to detangle your hair with your fingers. After you were satisfied with your work, you rubbed the dirt from your skin until you felt as clean as you were going to get without a real shower. You floated on your back and watched the sky turn pink-purple for a while, while the dripping and gentle splashing soothed you. Wading to the edge, you rested your head in your arms crossed over the still-sun-warmed rocks bordering the water. At some point you were lulled into a light sleep.

Your eyes opened at the sound of violently rustling leaves. Soft moonlight soon illuminated the Red Menace bursting forth to ruin your peace. You didn't move from where you rested but let out a groan.

"AND WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YA BEEN ALL DAY?"

You lifted your head and gave him an annoyed look. Who are you? My dad? "You missed me that much? I'm flattered," you sarcastically replied. You went back to being unbothered, laying on crossed arms and letting your eyes close. You missed the light tint of pink that dusted Kid's features, not that you could have seen it anyway in the dark.

"NO. I thought ya were going to bring back food! I had to find myself a bunch of shitty berries!"

"Proud of you," you grumbled. You heard him growl in frustration, surely trying to think of something slick to jab at you. When you continued hearing silence, you thought maybe he stalked off. To your horror, you started hearing the muffled plop of fabric on dirt and the clinking of buckles being undone. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" The change in pitch towards the end of your question was the only thing that betrayed your slight alarm. You didn't look towards him, partially because you didn't want to give him the satisfaction and partially because you were afraid you might like what you saw. Goosebumps crawled down your skin as you tried not to imagine what he looked like.

"Ya forget who yer talkin' to, girlie." There was a shift in the water as Kid stepped in. "I do whatever I want." And right now Kid wanted to cool off some of his frustration that he was still stuck here. As a bonus, Kid wanted to fluster you. It was amusing to him and he wanted a distraction from this predicament. Distraction, at the moment, came in the form of the bare skin of your lean-muscled back. How easy it was to imagine it pressed into the black, silky sheets of his bed...

Girlie. Heat rose to your face. Ew, why do I like that? Splashes alerted you to Kid's presence at the opposite side of the pool. A relieved breath left your chest. You thought he would place himself uncomfortably close to you. Sinking lower in the water, you slowly turned to face him. An eyebrow quirked up as you took in the sight before you. His scarlet hair was plastered to his forehead and his eyes burned a dark orange. Pale, muscular arms, well an arm and one-fifth of an arm, were stretched on either side of him as he leaned against the edge. You accidentally caught his gaze and frowned when a smirk spread across his features.

"Couldn't resist turning around I see." Kid wished you would sit up just a little more. The tops of your breasts were dangerously close to breaching the water's surface.

"Oh fuck off. I can see you trying to manifest the power to see through water." Even with your scars, you had no lack of self-confidence. That being said, you hadn't gotten a look in a proper mirror, only reflections in the water, so you only had a vague idea of their extent. But, you were highly sought-after before this life, and the cockiness from that lingered. "Glad I can only see out of one eye. I don't have to expose both retinas to your ugly ass." It almost pained you to lie. Almost. The competitive side of you took over and you were determined to win this battle of wills.

Kid snickered. "Killer's told me I've a fine ass actually." Amber eyes wandered over the parts of you that Kid could see. The moonlight reflected a soft silvery light where it touched your scars. It reminded Kid of the way moonlight reflects off ocean waves. Kid was no stranger to scars or disfigurement. It didn't bother him in the least. Especially since he could tell you wore it with purpose, the badge of a fighter. "I might be inclined to show ya if ya beg."

"Me? Begging?" You scoffed. "I didn't even beg for my life when this happened." You angrily gestured to the ruined side of your face. Fuck you revealed too much, you dumbass. You bit your cheek to cut yourself off from saying anything more.

His eyes widened for a moment. Kid didn't expect that. He wondered how far he could pry. This started as a little fun game but he genuinely wanted to know your backstory. There were obviously a lot of pieces to it and you seemed to be hiding them purposefully. "What happened?" He asked bluntly. Kid wasn't one to beat around the bush.

You let out an irked huff. "Don't." What business did he have trying to get to know you? At the most you would be a passenger for a week or two and then you would fuck right off to tie up some loose ends. Since you had been alone between when it happened and now, you didn't realize how poorly you would react at being asked about it. You mentally kicked yourself for opening up the door to this line of questioning.

"Ya don't have to be shy with m-," Kid started to tease.

"I said LEAVE IT." Your prior life as a captain led you back into the habit of issuing commands. As you said it, you had lunged forward and pushed a wall of water towards him. It was pretty childish to splash someone, but your temper was known to get the better of you. Great, now he's probably going to drown me. You retreated back a few steps.

Kid wiped the water out of his eyes, with a wicked smile. "Yer a rotten little brat, ain't ya?" Kid stalked forward. He took great pleasure watching you shrink backwards.

Before you had the chance to do anything, his hand shot out towards you. Where you anticipated to be hit or grabbed, a cold sheet of water hit you. Holding your arms up defensively didn't do much to block the water from going up your nose. In a fit of coughing, you lashed out again but this time was weaker, since the coughing devolved into half-giggles. This was so stupid. I'm having a fucking splash fight with Eustass Kid.

This went back and forth a few more times. You were... having fun? Simultaneously you were trying to get the water out of your good eye and blindly splashing towards where you thought he was. An iron grip closed around the wrist trying to get him wet. You had finally cleared your vision and your now-free hand attempted to pry his fingers from your wrist. "Fine! I'm rotten. Are you happy?" You were still half-heartedly laughing. Something burned in your lower abdomen. Oh. That was a feeling you had nearly forgotten. It only got worse when he turned you to face him.

There was the wicked smile again. "No." Kid tugged you closer until he felt your free hand splayed out on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you. "As the winner, I believe I'm owed a prize."

Yanking your hand back to no avail, you glared up at him. You wanted to take back your other hand too, but you didn't want him to pull you flush against him. Maybe I do. You cursed the basic human needs of your body for causing your will to falter. Sliding your hand further up his chest, you hooked it around his tree trunk of a neck, giving a little tug to make him lean down. You wouldn't give Kid the chance to make the first move. This was going to be on your terms and your terms only. Kid barely gave you resistance, and it was probably only because he was shocked you didn't fight him on it.

The second your lips met, your wrist was released and you felt his palm press into the small of your back, forcing you to be pressed up against him. You growled out of annoyance, though it certainly sounded like something else to him. Fuck it. You nudged him towards the shallower area where he could sit and still be partly submerged, sliding your tongue into his mouth while you did it. Pushing him down, you were semi-straddled over him. The kiss was broken only when you both had to stop for air, panting.

"One hand isn't enough," Kid mumbled into the skin of your neck. His hand alternated between grabbing your ass and titties, which were just as soft as he wanted them to be.

You let out a low laugh. "That's funny... I was thinking the same thing." You could feel his cock against the inside of your thigh. It was befitting of the giant man under you. In other circumstances, this would be considered romantic, an island oasis under the moonlight. The burning feeling at your core was only getting more intense. Your fingers grasped at his red locks as you kissed him again, letting out a satisfied moan when he bit your lip and moved to do the same thing to your neck.

Both of your heads snapped towards a chorus of whistles and cheers. "Alright, Captain!" "Any more where she came from?" "Hey, where's Killer?"

Your eyes flicked to Kid. His face was as red as his hair. Not with embarrassment obviously. Just anger.

"OF ALL THE FUCKIN TIMES TO SHOW YER SORRY ASSES!" Kid smoothly bucked you off of him so that he could remove himself from the water. He snatched his clothes, tossing your shirt closer to you when he came across it. "ONE OF YA IS GONNA SUCK MY FUCKIN COCK TO MAKE UP FOR IT." He stormed over to the group and demanded to be taken to the ship.

The group of mostly men weren't deterred by Kid's yelling. They were gathered around him asking if he was fine and about Killer. While they were focused on him, you lifted yourself out of the water and threw your clothes on. So much for ending your dry spell.

#eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #one piece #x reader #kid x reader x killer #eustass x reader #killer x reader #smut #it's been a while since I've written smut so let me dip my toes in again #be easy #marooned

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bi-writes · 10 months

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what never left us | j.m.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

Silence, and she scoffed a bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Disposable. Naïve. Weak.

But worst of all, in my way.

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

Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t.

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

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

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

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

She was so pretty.

He would come back. He always did.

His name was Brian.

I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugged again.

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

Take care of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How can he not understand that he’s mine?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry—”

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

She let out a shaky breath, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

She gripped his jaw roughly, gritting her teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

My. Mine. She’s mine.

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

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

That was perfect.

Perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And buried between her legs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I know that it’s you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would make sure of that.

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

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preseriesdean · 1 year

Photo

#spnedit #corespnedit #supernaturaledit #samdeanedit #supernatural #partners!!!!#*#gotta love the inconsistent coloring of these gifs tbh #*sdc #at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun #hands #always you and me

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friendlylocalwhumper · 15 days

Text

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal

To whom it may concern,

I am a member of an organization that operates as a toolbox for federal agencies. A laboratory, in a way. Naturally, I cannot give details or even the name of my organization. But we believe that we have a great deal to offer, and that by working together, our groups can do a lot of good.

As proof of what we can do, I’ve attached videos and records showing the progress we’ve made with a notorious menace to the community. This progress was made not in one year, or one month, or one week. This was all accomplished within 12 hours.

If the proof of our work interests you, I can be reached at [email protected] or (212) 747-5315.

Looking forward to correspondence,

L. Bonin

Video attachment 1:

A row of six men, down on their knees, blindfolds wrapped around their heads. The first is petite, but resting on his heels with confidence. To his right is a burly man who is quaking. Next, a lithe, muscular man littered in burn scars, with frizzy bleached hair. Each man seems unsteady and nervous about their captivity, heads tipped to listen.

There is no audio but they are each clearly asked the same question. The first kneeling man is executed for his clearly snarky answer. The second is more cooperative, it seems, but shot in the head too.

The third looks angry. Afraid. Shoulders squared with pride that seems to be fading rapidly with each bright flash of the gun. The barrel is pressed to his head, and his lips part to let out a single word. He is the first to be spared.

Video attachment 2:

The body littered by burn scars is shivering. Twitching. Forced down with his face mashed into the floor, arms forced behind his back, wrists circled in twisted chains. A hand is pressed between his shoulder blades to keep him down as a brand is pressed to his upper arm. Again there is no audio, but the sizzle and screaming are as clear as the smoke rising from the forming burn.

After the branding is done, the hand leaves his back. Trails fingertips down his spine, over a bent leg. The prisoner doesn’t jerk away from it, and doesn’t try to twist away from the heated metal that lingers by his shoulder.

Intake form:

Birth name: Miles [No last name] Nickname: Major Height: 5’7” Weight: 225 lbs Hair color: Brown (bleached white) IQ: 80 (Note: slow processing and limited reasoning skills, explain instructions clearly) Demeanor: Violent, antisocial, sadistic, restless Identifying marks: Burn scars across hands, arms, chest, back. Tattoos partially visible along edges of scarring. Notes: This fucker killed two of ours and broke my nose on the way in. Turns out he calls himself Major, so he’s the one that kills cops and feds when they get close. Was expecting a hell of a turnaround time on him, but something must’ve clicked during the initial thinning out. Trauma with gunshots? Blindfolds? He seems pissed off about obeying, but he’s learning fast anyway.

taglist: @morning-star-whump, @lthrboy, @apokolyps, @paperprinxe

#whump #drabble #mine #major #captivity #dehumanization #the dehumanization is so bad that i'm gonna add this tag for safety #slavery

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icvrusxx · 1 month

Text

I'm beyond saving. I know how my story's gonna end. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun.

the shooting of dan mcgrew, robert w. service // the fallen angel, alexandre cabanel // true blue, boygenius // the stream of life, clarice lisepector // here is the life i’ve always longed for, anna haifisch // @/ojibwa // spn 10x16 paint it black // climbing, louise clifton // the unabridged journals of sylvia plath // spn 10x16, paint it black

#dean winchester #spn 10x16 #spn paint it black #supernatural #spn #web weaving #collage #poetry

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ontheblock · 1 year

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I liked your loose ends with krauser, hoping that will have a continuation... if u don't mind ofc

i do not mind one bit, anon, trust me. this man lives rent free in my head anyway, they did him SO GOOD in the remake. i didn‘t intend to make him toxic but what can i say? i like em like that

loose ends pt ii

warning: slightest puppy play (jack calls reader dog), oral f receiving, slight dubcon(?) (you‘re literally kidnapped), overstimulation

You remembered your house, your couch. Your boyfriend that you thought was dead for almost half a year. You remembered falling asleep under him, remembered his voice speaking lowly about keeping you.

Your brows creased uncomfortably, eyes pinching tightly together. What did he mean?

You remembered bright lights and white walls but it flashed as fast as you could blink. Antiseptic was a ghost in your nose, burning sharply in your sinuses and coating the back of your tongue. There was something underneath. Something old, stale. Sometimes it smelled like gunpowder.

Why was Jack different?

There was a noise, loud and throbbing in your ears. You tried to roll over and stick your head under your pillow. But there was nothing. And this wasn’t your bed.

It was hard and solid and cold. It smelled different yet again - metallic and new.

Your fingers flexed and twitched as you came to your senses.

“You awake?“

Warm, baritone. Your chest tingled but you also flinched, unnerved that you weren‘t alone and didn‘t even know it. You wanted to curl up, suddenly cold. Crisp air blew across your bare arms, bare cheeks, bare feet. Your toes flexed.

“Thought you‘d be out cold until landing, princess.“

Your eyes cracked open. Your throat felt dry around his name. “Jack?“

A laugh. You turned around, seeing blurry shaped before you - mostly greys and whites. And a person.

The first thing to come into focus was Krauser, casually sitting on a cot across from you in full gear - knife strapped to his chest, tactical vest covering most of his torso and knee pads over his green cargo pants. His hand loosely held a pistol, the other worked a cloth across the metal barrel.

He was looking at you with sharp eyes and it almost distracted you from the fact that you two were in a helicopter, of all places, going god knows where. The deafening noise you woke up to were the rotor blades relentlessly spinning.

You felt nauseous for a moment. Not only because Jack hauled you into a helicopter without telling you where it went, not only because he clearly didn‘t expect you to wake up during the flight but because you didn‘t immediately fear for your life. After everything you still felt safe enough around Jack to not be up in arms the moment you woke up in a strange place with him.

You bit the flesh inside your cheek.

“Where is this going?“

Jack rested his elbows on his knees, still slowly wiping down his gun with practiced hand movements. “Does it matter? It‘s not like we‘re turning back anyway.“

You sat up, realizing that you were asleep on a cot mounted to the helicopter wall - the same one Jack sat on across from you. Your hands tightly held onto the edge. “Of course it matters! You‘re crazy for doing this.“

Jack looked at you from under his eyebrows, face blank and calculating. He put down the rag, tossing it onto the cot next to him into the rest of his cleaning kit.

“We‘re scoping out a village in spain. So how about you put that pretty little head down again because there is nothing you can do to turn his thing around.“

You swallowed around a lump in your throat, watching Jack straighten out and closing the cleaning kit case before stashing it into the bag between his feet.

That didn‘t sound horrible but Jack wasn‘t in the army anymore, not since he was taken out of active commission after his injury. Whatever mission he was on right now could have any objection and it left you uneasy.

You wrapped your arms around you, finally giving in to the cold wind fluttering around you. You shivered, teeth shattering as you exhaled through your mouth.

“You cold, sweetheart?“ You looked at Jack, watched him stand up at full height. He barely needed one step to close the distance between you two.

“I know just the thing for that. Let me warm you right up.“

You exhaled shakily as Jack sank to one knee in front of your cot, holding eye contact the whole way down. Two strong hands came down onto your thighs, sliding up into the soft juncture of your hips to urge your legs apart an inch.

Your hands dropped low, catching his wrists as if you had any considerable strength to stop him.

“Wait.“ Jack raised his eyebrows at you, hands resting on your body easily. He was waiting but he wasn‘t the most patient man. “You still owe me an explanation.“

Jack huffed, lazy grin playing at his lips. His hands crept across your hips, gripping you hard. “Do I really?“

“You really do. What- Jack!“ You almost yelped as big hands yanked at your hips, making your ass slide closer to the edge of the cot. You fell backwards onto your elbows with the sudden movement, all words lost.

Jack wasted no time tugging your bottoms down your thighs and you gasped high and sharp as the wind brushed over your newly exposed skin. Gooseflesh made your skin prickle up and Jack immediately placed his warm palms on the tops of your thighs, kneading the flesh.

He was just touching, just petting over your skin but you twitched ever so slightly with every firm squeeze he gave you, squirming in your place on the cot.

Jack wasn‘t a lover who went slow and soft, never was. It left you standing on your tippy toes in anticipation, your thigh muscles taunt and flexed under his hands.

“Relax for me, yeah? We got a whole lot of time.“

You pressed your lips into a firm line. Easy for him to say.

But he looked so good, so like your boyfriend as he knelt between your legs, large hands holding your thighs.

You breathed out a sigh as those fingers inched into the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to settle closer to his naked price. But instead of aiming for the target, Jack tilted his head to press warm lips into the inside of your right thigh, breathing you in. Your legs fell open further and you felt Jack‘s lips quirk up into a smile. His mouth parted, teeth sinking into your flesh just enough to hurt.

You yelped and twitched, legs unable to close with rough hands holding them open. Jack mouthed at the imprint of teeth, watching you intently the whole time. When he bit down again right next to the tender spot, you sounded more airy, holding yourself up on one elbow as your other hand slid into his short hair. You tugged, an honest to god bodily reaction to Jack‘s teasing. You didn‘t realize until he made a sound deep in his chest, something like a rumbled protest. His mouth left you.

“Trying to set the pace now? That‘s cute.“

Your bottom lips jutted out, hand uncurling around his strands but still resting on his head. “Don‘t tease me.“ He looked amused, thumbs pressing firm circles in the flesh of your thigh. “Please, Jack?“ You sounded soft, almost thought that Jack didn‘t hear you over the steady noise of the rotor blades.

“Good manners, that‘s how I like it.“

You held your breath as Jack finally leaned in and ghosted his hot breath over your pussy. His hands followed, resting in the sensitive spot where your hips and thighs met.

Finally, his tongue pressed flat against your folds, making you shiver and sigh. He glanced up all while licking a broad strip across your sex, tongue catching on your clit on his way up. You whined, hips chasing his mouth as he pulled back from the first lick. He laughed, one arm laying across your stomach to hold your hips down.

This time he moved back in with purpose now that he had you how he liked you - under his mercy.

His mouth closed around your clit, sucking just enough to make you breathe out his name with need. His tongue flicked over your most sensitive spot. You felt the texture of his scars on your skin but only had half a mind to focus on that. Your eyes screwed up tight but you were sure he was still watching from down there. He always liked watching you, picking apart your reactions to most efficiently give you all the pleasure you could take, sometimes even to distract you from how rough he got with your body when he really wanted to let go and take you.

You cried out in surprise, feeling a thick finger rub through your folds, gathering up slick and pushing in three knuckles deep. The stretch from nothing to just one finger was enough to cause a slight sting but the discomfort got muddled up by Jack sucking and licking your clit. It was almost too much but a second finger soon followed, pressing into your pussy and forcing your walls apart.

“Oh God.. Jack-“ You choked on a moan. His chuckle sent vibrations straight through your pussy and up your spine. You desperately tried to grind against his tongue, his fingers but his arm held you down like steel shackles.

You pressed out sweet little “ah, ah, ah“s with every thrust of his fingers, constantly hitting as deep as they could while the constant stimulation on your clit started to burn with the promise of an orgasm. Your fingers flexed in his hair, frustrated and so desperate to get more, get closer, finally cum on his face.

You moaned, pulling his hair shamelessly. It seemed to catch him off guard, actually burying his face between your legs that much closer, teeth scraping your hypersensitive skin.

Jack grunted, sucking your clit once more before moving his head back and leaving you whining for more.

“Wha-?“ You looked at him, unfocused and confused with the same harsh grip on his hair.

“Change of pace, baby.“ Jack sounded slightly winded, flush spreading just across the tips of his ears. His pupils were blown with lust, chin shiny with spit and your slick. He even pulled out his fingers, holding them up for both of you to see. Jack spread them apart, watching your juices stretch between his digits, running down his hand. You moaned softy at the sight.

“You like that? Seeing how good I can fuck you with just two fingers?“

You nodded, thighs shaking slightly as you were so transfixed on Jack‘s hand until he moved them back between your legs. “You‘re not a dog, are you? Use your words.“ A twinge of arousal caught a breath in your throat at his words and you shamefully hoped Jack didn‘t notice. Two soaked fingertips circled around your clit, deliberately missing where you need him the most. His face inched back down, breath fanning over your slicked hole.

“Y-Yeah. I like it…“

“Mmh. Put those legs on my shoulders, baby.“ You complied, albeit not without effort as your legs felt like jelly and moved just the same.

Jack seemed pleased enough, tongue tracing the rim of your pussy while his fingers finally swiped over your clit, smearing your own juices over the spit he already left there. His arm finally freed your hips in favor of having his other hand join his tongue, spreading your pussy with one thumb to work his tongue into your twitching heat. His lips closed around your sex, fingers now working in a slow rhythm on your clit.

His cheeks hollowed, sucking firmly on your folds while his tongue licked across every inch it could reach. He was groaning into your pussy, no doubt straining against his pants painfully.

The thought made you grind against his mouth. “Gonna- Please, make me cum. Ah, please-“

You were slurring words of nonsense, head thrown back and Jack never even slowed down on your pussy, eating you out like it gave him more pleasure than you. Your stomach felt tight, thighs squeezing his head like a wrench but it did little to stop him.

Your orgasm hit you like a boulder in the chest, hot tears running down your cheek as you sobbed and twitched, legs almost falling off his large frame. But Jack didn‘t care although he clearly noticed your walls constricting wildly from too much stimulation as he tongue fucked you through it.

“Too much! Ahh, I can‘t anymore…“

Your elbows gave out under you, sending you harshly on your back while Jack simply pulled your hips closer, holding them with both hands so his face could bury itself into your pussy, nose bumping into your clit. Every touch against it felt white hot and made you cry but Jack was merciless, not stopping until you wailed and slurred out strings of his name mixed with pathetic “please“.

He finally pulled back, letting your legs fall off his shoulders bonelessly. His hand stroked softly across the tops of your thighs, up your hip bones and across your stomach underneath your shirt. His touch felt electric after such an intense orgasm and you struggled to open your eyes.

He wiped his mouth on the back of one hand, grinning down at you.

“So you liked when I called you my dog, huh?“

#resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil 4 #resident evil imagines #jack krauser #jack krauser smut #jack krauser x reader smut #jack krauser x reader #jack krauser imagine #i want him to call me his dog #BARK BARK WOOF GRRRR

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