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smutstevington · 5 months

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Resensitized (part 3) | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You're dating your pornstar roommate. Everything is great! Well, except for the jealousy you're trying not to feel. (part one, part two)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Pornstar!Eddie x fem reader (no use of y/n), pwp and lots of feelings, reader tries being a soft dom (and succeeds), she’s jealous but also kinda into it. mild degradation, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, fem self-gratification, he really do be begging for her, once again Eddie is a simp, playful banter, things get super romantic because that's all I know how to write

A/N: GUYS I FINALLY WROTE IT! So many of you wanted part three, and I really hope it meets expectations. This one is a bit different than the others because reader tries something new. I tried to take all your suggestions into account! Anyway, I think I am going to end this series, but thank you so much to all who read and enjoyed ♥️

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It had been one week since you and Eddie decided to start dating, and it was working fine. Actually, it was easier than any of your previous relationships. You were already best friends, and you were already living together, so it’s not like you got tired of each other or were surprised by much. You spent more time together now, setting nights aside for movies and sex and cooking dinner together and having sex and grabbing a drink and then having sex.

Yeah. You had sex a lot. The two of you were kind of crazy for each other, but it wasn’t like your relationship was only about sex, it just happened to be what you were doing a lot because you’d been doing all the other stuff already. You had a lot of sex to catch up on, and you took that seriously.

And when he wasn’t home….

Okay.

Was it fucked up that sometimes when you were alone in your room you watched your roommate’s porn videos to get off?

….Probably.

But did you care? Nope!

You tried not to think about the psychology behind it. It was probably something like a cuckolding thing, or whatever. It didn’t matter who he slept with on camera, because he slept with you off camera, and it was amazing.

But then one day you stumbled across a video of him with a woman who looked remarkably like you, and that was the first time you felt that dreadful sting of jealousy. And then after that, you found out he had made a video with her recently, and that’s when your envy got much worse.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to be jealous. You wanted to be the cool girl who was dating a porn star and didn’t feel weird about it, because you knew going into it that this was his job. You knew he was a porn star when you moved in and became best friends and you definitely knew when he offered to use his porn-star skills to blow your mind. And you knew when you went on a date, and when you had sex again, and when you agreed to keep dating. You knew it the whole time, and you told yourself over and over again that you could date him and not be jealous about how he was fucking other women at work during the day and coming home to you at night, but the truth was -

Okay, this woman looked just like you. That’s fucked up!

But you recognized that this was your issue, and you couldn’t possibly tell him this, because this was his career. He made good money from his work. If you told him you felt weird about it, you knew he’d feel at least a little pressured to re-evaluate his job or quit altogether, and you didn’t want to be that guy. But you also didn’t want to stop dating him, so…

It was time to quietly suffer just a little bit and hope he didn’t notice.

Besides, you’d be sitting at home feeling jealous or whatever while he was at work, and then you’d hear the front door open, and suddenly he’d be climbing on top of you and desperately reaching for any part of you to hold and squeeze and touch, and he was moaning and gasping into your mouth like he’d been suffocating and you were his only source of oxygen, and then it didn’t matter anymore if you were jealous, because you couldn’t think.

The first thing he wanted when he came home from work was you. How could you ever complain?

“Something fucked up happened at work today.”

Um. Not really what you’d wanted to hear when Eddie got home, but okay. It was supposed to be one of your date nights, but then he came home from work looking…forlorn? Distracted? Nervous? You couldn’t tell.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just went straight to his room, and then to the shower. He used showers as therapy, basically. That’s what you’d figured out over the course of your lease thus far. Anyway, one of the perks of dating a porn star was that, when your partner came home looking sad like that, your first thought wasn’t “oh God, he fucked someone else.” Cuz, ya know, duh. That came with the territory. You hadn’t really talked about what cheating would entail, or if your relationship was exclusive, but he wasn’t seeing anyone outside of work, and you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him.

He satisfied you more than enough, so…

There was, of course, the one thing that did worry you. You were still feeling that burn of jealousy in your stomach about that video of him with your look-a-like. You repressed the feeling as much as you could, but it was still there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his mood was related.

“What happened?” you asked. He shrugged, and you noticed his wet hair was leaving spots on his old t-shirt.

“Well, it was -” he stopped himself, palming the back of his neck. “It was while I was - uhh, you know. With someone else.”

You swallowed. “I figured,” you said.

Okay, it was gonna come to this eventually. He’d never been explicit with you about his work, and that was fine. Obviously you weren’t completely in the dark, thanks to your secret night-time habit, but he never told you about what it was like to be with someone else. It wasn’t like you were offended, it just wasn’t something you needed to know. You weren’t sure how you’d feel if you did know, and now you realized you were about to find out.

“Is it weird for me to tell you about it?” he wondered.

You stared at him, and you were pretty sure your expression would have been funny if you were looking at yourself and not panicking on the inside.

“I’m not sure,” you responded. “Probably. Tell me anyway and let’s find out.”

There was a shared nervous smile between the two of you. You couldn’t wait for the tension to dissipate. You had to know what was making him act like this.

“Okay, so -” he began, pacing the living room floor and avoiding eye contact. In all the time you’d known him, he rarely avoided eye contact. It was actually incredibly intimidating how much he stared deeply into your eyes when he talked to you.

Aaaand incredibly hot when he did it while having sex with you. Anyway.

“I couldn’t get off,” he continued. “And I’ve told you that happens pretty often for me, but this was even worse than usual. Like, I was nowhere close. So, that was frustrating, and then I - I started thinking about the other night. I started thinking about…you.”

He stopped pacing, but his gaze remained on the floor. Your eyes widened.

Oh.

“Did it work?” you asked. Something in your voice must have tipped him off that you weren’t angry - and you weren’t - far from it, actually. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the tension in the room shifted to that of a different kind.

“Like a fucking charm,” he replied.

Oh.

If someone had told you before you met Eddie that this kind of thing would have gotten you hot and bothered, you would have been confused. You still would have been confused as you were feeling it, but you were too turned on to even focus on the confusion.

It was bad enough that you sometimes enjoyed watching him with other women, and now you were wet at the thought of him fucking someone else and having to think about you to enjoy it?

Wait, no. Actually, you were pretty sure that the second part was objectively hot.

“Well, you were right. That is fucked up,” you said. For a moment, his face fell. His eyebrows scrunched together, and concern flooded his expression again. He walked toward you to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips.

“I know,” he said, kissing down your wrist. “Fuck, I - I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry -”

“No, no,” you interrupted, sliding your hands from his grasp up to either side of his face. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t really understand what I’m feeling, but for whatever reason I’m very, very into this.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nodded, hungry.

“Uh-huh.”

What you had was electric and powerful. It was like you were magnetically drawn to each other. Your lips quickly found his as your hands tangled in his wet hair, pulling it the way you knew he liked. You bit and nipped at him, resenting that you had to be gentle. You didn’t want to be gentle this time. You wanted nothing more than to ruin him.

Because you had ruined him, clearly. You’d ruined all other women for him. You both knew it.

You felt possessed by something so much bigger than the two of you. A deep, instinctual desire - an unstoppable desperation. You walked him backwards until you reached the couch in the living room, then pushed him until he was sitting down. He stared up at you, slack-jawed and panting, his swollen lips pink and shiny, his eyes dark and wide.

You slipped your shirt off over your head and let it fall to the floor. He reached for you, but you shook your head. You wanted to undress for him, this time. Your fingers slowly trailed down your exposed stomach and to the button of your jeans, working them undone. He watched your every methodical, deliberate, tantalizing move, and you could see the shape of his hard dick growing beneath the fabric of his pajama pants. He palmed himself as you slid your jeans down your legs and kicked them off. Next came your bra, and then your underwear.

You were standing fully naked in front of him, which would have been enough to drive him insane, but then you slowly got on your knees.

“Ohhhh, Sweetheart,” he drawled, his breathing getting more and more erratic. “What are you doing to me?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you teased, tugging at his pants until they were past his hips. It took some squirming on his end, followed by giggles between the two of you, but then you were pushing his legs apart to get between them and leaning over to suck him off.

“Fuuuuck me,” he whined as your lips found his tip. His head fell back, his eyelids drooping.

“I will,” you replied, coy. “But I want to try something first.”

The first time you’d hooked up, he’d told you he’d always wanted to try degradation and being a bit more of a sub, but since then you’d only ever fed into the kind of stuff he did at work. He focused a lot on your pleasure - and he always enjoyed himself too, but still. You wanted this time to be different.

You wanted to own him.

“Anything,” he muttered. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He was taking to being submissive quite well, wasn’t he? And you were doing pretty well at the soft dom thing.

(You may or may not have done some research on the subject)

“I’m the only one that can make you come, right?” you asked as you teased his cock with gentle licks and kisses. He groaned and moaned at your touch, then nodded viciously. “Okay. This time, I don’t want you to come until I say you can. Deal?”

He nodded so fucking fast you worried he would get whiplash. It was kinda cute how red in the face he was. He looked as if he was going to burst.

And then he said something you didn’t expect.

“Am I - am I dreaming?”

You pulled away from him and sat back on your knees, looking up at his face and waiting for him to break and explain the joke, but he didn’t.

“What?”

“Am I - fuck, never mind,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t fucking care if I’m dreaming, just - just don’t stop, baby, please. I - I - don’t stop.”

God. His begging really did something to you. You smiled, and then your smile turned to a smirk as you decided to resume your work. The lust within you took over again, and suddenly you were climbing on top of him, straddling him, grinding against him until his eyes rolled back into his head.

It felt good for you too, of course, but that wasn’t what you were worried about.

Degradation. That was the word he used when talking about what he was interested in. You also knew that sometimes, fantasies didn’t feel the way you thought they would when they actually played out. You were slightly worried about this next part, but figured it was worth a shot -

“All those women and I’m the only one that can get you off,” you said as you continued rocking your hips against his erection. “You’re not even inside me and you’re a fucking mess.”

His mouth was open in a silent scream, his eyes fixed to the ceiling.

“Please fuck me,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Please, please fuck me.”

You’d gotten tested for STI’s the day after you and Eddie agreed to keep dating, and everything came back clean. He was routinely tested as well, so…no need for condoms, really. Especially with you on birth control. The main reason you still sometimes used them was for easier cleanup, but considering how often you two had sex, it was far more convenient to go without and suffer the consequences as they came (pun intended).

You lifted yourself high enough to line him up with your entrance, then slowly sank back down. Immediately, he was melting beneath you, which only made you wetter for him. You slid him into you until he bottomed out, then stilled.

“Remember,” you whispered against his lips. “Don’t come until I say so. I wanna come first.” Immediately, his hand dove between the two of you as his fingers went to find your clit, but you grabbed him by the wrist. “No, I want to do it myself.”

And so, Eddie watched you. He watched as you touched yourself while bouncing up and down in a steady rhythm, progressively getting faster and deeper until you were clenching around him. It took everything in him not to grab you and fuck into you harder and faster. Never in his life had he tried so hard not to come, and that’s why this was all so pleasurable.

When your moans sounded just the way he liked them to and he felt you get warmer and wetter around him, he nearly lost it. He almost spilled into you, but managed to hold off by digging his nails into the meat of his thighs.

For your second orgasm, you let him use his fingers while you rode him, telling him exactly what to do. And after you’d settled, and your mind centered back in your body, you realized you’d put him through enough.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “I got mine.”

Eddie was so completely fucked out. He looked like you probably should have, but you still felt in control. It was a nice contrast to all the other times he’d had you screaming and whimpering his name. He didn’t even react - he seemed to have no idea what to do next.

“Aww,” you said, running your hands through his hair. “Did I fuck the thoughts out of that pretty head of yours? Come on, I know you know what to do next.”

“You want me to -?” he began. His voice was weak and hesitant. “You want me to fu - I mean, now?” Instead of answering, you slid off his lap and got on all fours beside him.

He was fucking you within probably about three seconds.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you into him, thrusting into you over and over again, faster and harder and causing all kinds of noises to echo in the room. The sounds of skin and desire, all culminating into something that sent you spiraling into orbit.

You almost didn’t notice when he spoke again.

“Tell me to come,” he pleaded. “Tell me I can come now.”

You were well past the point of teasing him, so instead you gave in.

“Do it,” you permitted. “Come inside me.”

So, he did. He filled you and continued fucking you until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up so your back was against his chest, then left desperate kisses on your cheek, neck, and shoulder - wherever his lips would reach. You felt his heavy breathing, the rise and fall of his ribs, the warmth of his skin. He wished the feeling would never end - he wished he could spend eternity doing just this, and then he wished he had several other eternities to spend doing nothing with you. He loved every moment. He was so far fucking gone into loving you. Perfect, beautiful, intoxicating, you.

There was a box of tissues on the coffee table, which ended up being a lifesaver in terms of cleanup. Of course, the two of you had to work together to reach over and get the box without toppling over. Then, you both wandered silently to your room, knowing that you’d be far more comfortable cuddling on a bed.

He held you so close to him it almost felt more intimate than sex.

“That was -” he began, his tone calm and warm. “That was the first time I’ve done that.” You giggled, angling your neck to kiss him quickly before returning to lay your head back on his chest.

“Was it as good as you hoped it would be?” you asked.

“I still can’t really think straight, so yeah,” he replied. You laughed again. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

You bit your lip, the anxiety returning just a little bit.

“There’s a lot of great info out there on the internet,” you responded. He chuckled, then kissed the top of your head.

“I know, I’m involved in a lot of it,” he said. And then he said something else, and your heart stopped. “You know, when you said - ‘Did I fuck the thoughts out of that pretty head of yours?’ - I was thinking about how that question was kind of familiar.”

You were so glad your ear was to his chest and it wasn’t the other way around, because he absolutely would have been able to hear your pulse rising.

“It’s a common thing for people to say when they’re doing the degradation thing,” you quickly replied, hoping he’d drop it but knowing he wouldn’t.

“Oh, I know,” he continued. You could hear a smirk in his voice. “I’ve used that line a lot.”

Now your heart was beating so fast, you wondered if he could feel it pounding in your chest somehow. You sat up, noticing the way he was looking at you as if he was saying - Gotcha.

“It wasn’t -” you sputtered. You weren’t sure why you were even attempting to keep this from him anymore. “It’s not like you came up with it, Eddie. It’s - that’s - it wasn’t -”

“Baby,” he said with a light laugh. “I’m just teasing you. But, your reaction is veeeeeery suspicious.”

You were blushing so hard it burned your cheeks. Meanwhile, he was completely amused by the whole situation.

“Okay, so I’ve watched more of your videos!” you confessed, probably too loudly. And then, the words kept flowing before you could stop them. “Sue me! My boyfriend is fucking other women and sometimes I get curious, and sometimes I think it’s hot - although, to be fair, I only focus on you, obviously. Except for when you’re paired with the woman who’s basically my twin, and then I just get - ugh, whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

He was grinning, practically giddy, and it drove you crazy.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, chuffed. You rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, you’re obviously my boyfriend,” you shot back immediately. “Is that seriously all you got from my whole confession?”

“What do you think I am, your priest?” he teased. He put his arm around you to pull you back into him. “Don’t get any ideas, by the way. No way I’d ever do religion roleplay. That’s off limits, even for you.”

You had to admit - the phrase even for you gave you butterflies.

“You’re not into the whole, ‘forgive me, father, for I’ve been a bad bad girl’ kind of thing?” you asked, allowing yourself to tease him back. He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

“Ah, so you do watch porn that’s not me,” he replied. You couldn’t help but smile at his joke, but you playfully smacked him on the arm in retaliation.

“Of course I do,” you answered. “Not that kind though, don’t worry.”

“Hey, I don’t kinkshame,” he said, putting his hands in the air. “But that’s one you’d have to go find with someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” you said back. Your words were decisive and stern. “Come on, let’s just be honest. I like you. I want to be with you. And I really try not to get jealous, and I don’t want to be jealous, but sometimes I am. Because I want to be the one for you. Like, that’s why I jumped you today. I know it’s your job, and I don’t want you to change your life for me. But yeah, I get jealous sometimes. And, like, this is less serious, but I wanna be able to bite you and not think about whether or not I’m leaving marks for someone else to see. For your partners or thousands of viewers to see. I just - I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

Eddie’s hands returned to your hair. He sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of disappointment or anger - it was something else.

“You wanna mark me up, huh?” he responded. “Tell me more about that.”

You hated it when he got evasive like this. Lately it had been happening more and more.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been holding back, you know. I’m a biter.” Eddie’s eyes lit up.

“You’re reeeeeally fucking with my refractory period, baby,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Eddie, focus,” you told him. “This is serious.”

His last wall came down. You could practically see it happen.

“I know,” he said at last. “I know it’s serious, and - and I don’t want to be with anyone else either. Like, I’ve been really struggling with work and thinking about how I can get past it, but I can’t. And then they paired me with someone who - yeah, it’s freaky how much she looks like you, I agree - but I promise it was just weird for me, because she wasn’t you. No one is you. I don’t want to be with aaaaanybody else, honest to God. I just - I love you, okay? I’m in love with you.”

Of all the things he could have said - of all the things you wished for - all the things you hoped he’d say - this was better than all of them. This was - this was everything.

“You’re in love with me?” you echoed, your voice small and quiet.

“Afraid so,” he replied with a slight smile. “Genuinely, it’s terrifying. I’ve never - Sweetheart, you’re it for me. You gotta know that.”

For a minute, you didn’t know how to respond. You wondered how long he’d loved you - how long he’d known that you were what he wanted. You thought about yourself, and how your feelings for him were clearly there, but love? You hadn’t considered being in love with him, and yet the moment he told you he loved you, it was as if all the puzzle pieces came together.

“I love you too,” you told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You continued cuddling and talking after that as you discussed what you were going to do next. More specifically, what he was going to do next. He’d have to take a pay cut and switch to solo stuff, but he had enough saved up to get by. There was also the option of you joining him for a video, but that was a question for another day.

You had time to think about it. In fact, it was possible you had your whole life.

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #resensitized

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absurdthirst · 2 months

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Property of Dave York {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Voyeurism, video surveillance, masturbation, kidnapping, threats of violence, coercion, dub-con, derogatory language, gun play, spanking, oral sex (male receiving ) rough sex, choking, guilt, forced cuckolding, cream pie, anxiety, break up texts, murder, fingering, pussy slapping, sex toys, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, aftercare, forced imprisonment

Comments: Carol's offer of the York family cabin for a romantic weekend away for you and your boyfriend turns dark and deadly when Dave shows up. Unhappy with how you are being fucked and deciding to take you for himself.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of coercion, dub-con due to deadly threats, murder, imprisonment - do not read if this bothers you🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Are you sure?” You ask Carol, eyes wide as she offers to let you use the family cabin for the weekend.

“Absolutely. I'm heading out of town to see my mom with the girls. Dave will be here and we want to reward you for all of your hard work. You’re so good with the girls and do so much above and beyond. We want to reward you.” Carol offers you a sweet smile.

You shake your head, “I don’t know what to say.” You admit and Dave smiles, “just say yes.”

You nod, overwhelmed by how good the Yorks treat you, “th-thank you.” You reply and they both smile. It’s a reward beyond your dreams to get to spend the weekend in the woods with your boyfriend at the York family cabin. Little do you know that Dave hates the idea.

You were hired about a year ago to be the live-in nanny to the York family. At first, they seemed like any other suburban dream but you began to notice small details that tipped off the fact that maybe Dave isn’t the man he says he is. The blood stained clothes on the floor in the mud room late one night and he told you he cut himself yet that was too much blood for an injury you couldn’t see. Then the random calls which meant Dave would disappear for days on end after.

The weirdest thing is the man’s internet history. When trying to search the computer for Molly’s schedule, you accidentally came across a page that detailed the internet history of the house and you, being curious, clicked on some of the links. Porn. But not your average vanilla stuff. This was bondage, it was BDSM. It was rough. Fuck, that must be Dave. The time stamp was the middle of the night and you know Carol can’t survive without her sleep.

You hate to admit it but you touched yourself to thoughts of Dave treating you like that. He’s so sexy, authoritative, and secretive. Maybe that makes him sexier. Well, certainly when compared to Johnny, your sweet boyfriend who won’t even so much as spank you. Still, you can’t get involved in any way. This is your boss and you’d be risking your job and home and a mortifying rejection since you know Dave doesn’t want you like that. No, you’ll enjoy the cabin this weekend with Johnny and maybe you can get off thinking of dirtier things while your boyfriend sweetly goes down on you.

The smile on Dave’s face is a very practiced one. One that doesn’t show the anger, that only flashes for a brief second in his eyes before he blinks it away. Carol hadn’t talked about this with him and he wants to snatch the keys away from you as his wife holds them for you to take. Instead, he smiles. “Just say yes.” He watches as you sputter and take the keys to the cabin he had bought and was normally a weekend getaway from him and the girls. Often when he needed to recuperate from a rough mission or a job had gotten too close. Why the fuck had Carol decided to give his fucking cabin to the nanny for the weekened ot use as a fucking sex room? That dipshit you were dating wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Could he even build a fire? He scoffs to himself and grinds his teeth, furious as he thinks about that fucker touching you. It’s bad enough when you have weekends off and you come home smelling like sex and cheap ass beer like you were at some frat party. Probably had been. “You know how to get there, right?” He asks you, knowing he hasn’t told you where the cabin is although Carol might have.

You nod, “Carol gave me the coordinates. Johnny is pretty good at navigating so we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s okay if I take him, right?” You ask, biting your lip. Fuck, Dave wants to say no but he knows that won’t help him. Carol can’t get suspicious of his desires otherwise you’ll be gone and he can’t allow that. “Of course you can take Johnny.” Carol promises and you grin.

“Thank you so much.”

Carol nods, “don’t think anything of it. It’s all set, right Dave?”

He swallows down his annoyance, “it’s all set.” He offers you a sickly smile that has your stomach knotting and Carol pats his hand, “excellent.” She winks and you grip the keys, eager to tell your boyfriend about the weekend away.

****

“You girls be good for your mother, and grandma and grandpa, okay?” Dave winks at Alice and reaches out to tug on one of Molly’s pigtails.

“Daddy!!!” Molly shrieks, batting his hand away as she giggles and he chuckles.

“I mean it.” He raises his eyebrows at them before moving up to the driver’s side window where Carol is already behind the wheel. “Drive carefully, honey.” He urges, knowing that while he might not love her like he probably should, she is important to him. Plus he wants his girl’s to be safe. While he feels like there is something missing inside him, not able to really connect with his wife, he loves his children. “Call me when you get to your moms.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers quickly before he pulls away. His plans for the weekend have changed and he needs his wife to leave on time, so he had helped her pack up the Mercedes.

****

“Wow. This place is sweet.” Johnny grins as you enter the cabin. He’s carrying your travel bag and you admire the decor of the cabin. It’s simple but rustic and you love it. You love being out in the woods, the sound of nature, and of course, being there with your boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and everything you should want and this weekend you’re going to try and remind yourself of that. Johnny sets your bags down, reaching for you to pull you close, his hands squeezing your ass. “And the best thing is not having to sneak around. We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want.” Johnny kisses along your neck and you smirk, knowing he’s eager to touch you. Has been since you left the York house.

The rustic charm of the house hides the sophisticated camera system. Hidden discreetly in areas that won’t be noticed by anyone who isn’t a trained operative. Carol had never noticed. Now, Dave watches you, glaring at the screen of his laptop as your boyfriend gropes your ass and slides his hand up to cup your tit as he tries to steer you back towards the sofa. “Asshole.” He hisses, jealous that you let this fucker touch you. His cock twitches, making him reach down to palm himself through his pants as he imagines himself with you on that couch. Showing you what getting fucked should be like.

You let Johnny lay you down on the sofa and he’s quick to remove your shirt, tossing it down and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits unknowingly to Dave’s gaze until Johnny takes your nipple into his mouth, making you moan. “Fuck. That’s good.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks but it’s not hard enough, not rough enough.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, reaching up to slide the end from the belt buckle. His cock throbbing in his pants and he’s already decided that he’s going to jerk off, watching you get fucked by this pathetic excuse for a boy. There’s nothing really wrong with Johnny, Dave hates him solely because he wants you. Wants to use you and show you what you really want when you look at him with those searching eyes. Pulling his hard cock out, Dave spits in his hand and starts to smear it over the sensitive head.

When Johnny slides inside of you, he’s asking if you’re comfortable and you want to roll your eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses in pleasure at how wet and tight you are and you want him to squeeze your throat. You want him to fuck you like it’s your last day on earth. You want him to ruin you but he won’t. You wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” Johnny groans and you want to be spiteful and tell him you were thinking about Dave being in this cabin, imagining him fucking you, wrecking you.

Dave strokes his cock, hard and fast as he imagines how tight you would be. The squeals he would pull from you would be much better than those damn fake moans you are putting on for him. “You would cry for me.” He grunts, watching you wrap your legs around him. He wonders if Johnny actually buys your moans, if he believes that you are actually enjoying yourself. His cock is slick in his hand, gripping it harshly as he jerks off.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You cry, throwing your head back as you grip him inside of you, faking yet another orgasm. You moan, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out another fake moan as you wait for Johnny to cum inside of you. He’s grunting, his face buried in your neck, and you whimper, “cum for me baby.” You try to egg him on, squeezing his cock in your walls and you moan his name.

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums.

Dave grunts, holding his breath as he starts to cum. Ropes of his sticky seed coating the towel he had covering the steering wheel of his car as he cums. Stroking himself through the high and watching you as you lay under Johnny limply, helping him ride out his orgasm while very obviously not experiencing your own. He wouldn’t let that happen. Milking the last drops of his release before he sits back in the seat and pants, making up his mind on what he will do next.

You are cooking when you hear the noise. Confused by the clicking sound and you turn the stove off and on again, wondering if that’s the noise. “Johnny?” You call out, wondering where he is. He isn’t usually this quiet. He’s usually annoying you by now, wanting to incessantly talk about his video games or the latest thing he read on Reddit. You turn off the stove, the pasta sauce is cooked anyway, and you will probably find Johnny lounging on the sofa. “Johnny, baby. I-” You scream, finding Johnny tied to a chair and a gag in his mouth.

A hand comes around your mouth, covering it and hot breath washes over your ear. “Ah ah ah, no screaming baby, not yet.” Dave hums in your ear, grinning at the furious expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Your boyfriend didn’t even lock the fucking door. Anyone could have wandered into the cabin.”

Your eyes widen at hearing Dave’s voice in your ear. Your heart pounds in both fear and arousal. His body is pressed against yours and you shiver against him. Your hands are gripping his wrist but it’s no use, he’s stronger than you. “Be calm and nothing bad happens.” He coos and lowers his hand from your mouth.

“Please. Let - let us go. We will leave. I- I am sorry Mr. York.” You promise, aware to an extent of what he is capable of.

“What are you sorry for?” Dave asks you, “fucking on my couch? Or faking your orgasm.” He shakes his head. “It was pathetic, watching you moan like a whore when we both know you were counting down the seconds until he came and rolled off you.” He tuts and watches Johnny huff and tug against the ropes tying him to the chair in amusement. “So I decided I’m going to show him how you should be fucked.”

Your eyes widen even more and you step away from Dave. “Wha-what? I- Dave. I- don’t understand.” You shake your head and step towards Johnny. “I- I swear to you baby I had - I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You try to assure your boyfriend who is tied up and Dave chuckles, reaching for your wrists to grip them in his.

“Don’t lie, baby. That’s not nice. You gotta tell him the truth. He doesn’t make you scream. He doesn’t make you writhe. I’ve seen it. I know it. You don’t soak his cock with your cum.” Dave declares and your cunt clenches at the deep words, the truth you’ve been too scared to say. Johnny laughs around the gag again and you wonder how the hell he’s so oblivious.

“He’s not wrong.” You confess in a whisper.

Dave smirks and looks over at Johnny smugly. “Strip off your clothes.” Dave orders, squeezing your wrists before letting go. “First, I’m going to punish you for letting this boy touch you. You could have just asked and I would have bent you over my desk every night after Carol and the girls were asleep. Or maybe the washing machine in the basement. That way you don’t wake them up with your squealing.” He chuckles as he steps back and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You cleaned his cum out of your cunt, didn’t you?”

You nod, knowing this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. You can’t fuck Dave in front of your boyfriend. “I- I showered.” You confess and swallow harshly at the sight of Dave shirtless, several scars litter his skin from his past and it attracts you to him even more.

“I told you to strip.” Dave orders and you shake your head, “I can’t do it.” You choke, knowing this is wrong. Dave shakes his head, reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun.

“If you don’t strip, I’m gonna spread your boyfriend’s brains over the carpet and no one will ever find him.” Your eyes widen, looking at Johnny’s frantic, scared look, and you know Dave doesn’t fuck around. You reach for your shirt, starting to strip off with shaking hands.

Dave watches as your plain bra is revealed, smirking when you reach behind you and shakily unclasp it. “Those are nice tits.” He hums. “Your boyfriend should have sucked on them more. Bitten them and pulled on them.” His cock twitches in his pants and grunts, “I will. Maybe I’ll get some clamps out for them. Make them really sore.”

You whimper at his words, avoiding the glare from your boyfriend who is shaking his head. He never sucks on your tits, always gets right to fucking you. Sometimes he will go down on you but it’s too sweet. It doesn’t make you gasp and writhe. You toss your bra down and hook your fingers in your leggings, pushing them down and kicking them aside so you are left in your panties.

“Ah ah ah. All of it.” Dave tuts as he pulls his belt through the loops. You look at Johnny as you push your panties down, the gun is still in Dave’s hand so you kick the underwear aside to stand bare before Dave.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dave turns his comment towards Johnny. Shaking his head in disappointment. “She shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone make dinner after you fuck her.” He slaps the belt against his palm and smirks. “Shouldn’t be able to move.” He flicks open the button of his pants and motions to the couch. “Bend over. I’m going to spank you for fucking on my couch.”

You shake your head, glancing over at Johnny and Dave tuts, pointing the gun at the younger man. “Do you want me to blow his brains out?” You shake your head frantically and move over to the sofa, kneeling on it as you shiver in anticipation for what Dave is going to do to you, knowing it’s so wrong to already be turned on.

You shake your head, “please Dave.” You beg and he smacks your ass again.

“Call me sir.” He demands and you nod, “sir.” He hums in delight and rubs your ass, making you arch your back.

“Fuck. I need more.” You tell him, finally letting your desires escape, the ones you’ve concealed for so long.

He pauses for a second, grinning in triumph. “I knew you were perfect.” He groans, pulling his hand back so he can whip your ass with the belt, “you need me. Not some pussy.” He hisses, striking your ass every other work in quick succession.

You cry out. arching your back at the pain, but fuck if your cunt doesn't clench at the sensation. "Oh shit." You pant, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your ass. You inhale deeply. ignoring the pained look on Johnny's face as he helplessly watches.

“You like it, don’t you?” Dave asks as he draws back for another slap of the belt against your ass. “Don’t lie.”

“I love it.” You confess, unable to lie to him. He’s tearing you apart and you are unraveling for him, telling him your deepest darkest secrets. You cry out when he hits you again with the belt, your skin is on fire and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Dave groans, smirking as he flicks the belt against your ass again. “Knew you would love it.” He hisses, his cock twitching in his pants. “You’re fucking dirty, my little whore.”

You collapse forward onto your elbows, ass aching. And you struggle to breathe, knowing it’s true. You’ve always been his. “Yes, I- I- fuck. I’m your dirty little whore.” You whimper, closing your eyes to ignore the hurt look on Johnny’s face, concealed by the gag.

Dave chuckles and drops his hand, reaching out and caressing the welts that are on your ass. “Get on your knees.” He orders you rightly, “I want you to suck my cock. Show you me how much you regret him touching you.”

It’s getting impossible to deny him, the guilt pushed aside by arousal as you shift onto your knees and hiss at the sting when your thighs press against your ass. You look up at Dave as he fumbles to pull his cock out, gun still in one hand, and when he manages to get his hard length out, your eyes widen. Fuck, he’s huge. Your mouth falls open in shock and he grips his length, playfully swiping the head along your lips until you take him into your mouth.

Dave groans as you take him deep, rolling his hips forward. “Fuck.” He hisses, watching as your lips stretch around his cock. He loves it, your eyes starting to water slightly as he pushes himself deeper.

You choke but he doesn’t pull back, continuing to push his cock down your throat, and he grabs the back of your head to stop you pulling off of him. “Take it all.” He demands and you gag but inhale deeply through your nose, concentrating on taking all of him.

You swallow and struggle but you manage to press your nose against the curls above his cock. Making him groan happily as he holds your head there for a long moment before he pulls back. Wanting to fuck your throat, use you for his pleasure, although he’s not filling your mouth with his seed. No. He’s saving that for your pussy. Wanting to replace your loser boyfriend’s seed with his and watch it drip from your folds.

You choke on your breath when Dave pulls his cock back, barely able to catch it as he pushes deep down your throat again. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He hisses and you are dripping onto the floor as you watch him with watery eyes, loving the way he clenches his jaw. The gun is still in his hand. He looks deadly and that turns you on more than anything Johnny has ever done.

He can tell this excites you. The way that you lean into his thrusts into your mouth and the way that your thighs spread tell him how much you love this. In a few minutes he will be able to see your cunt drooling into the floor, your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down like the little slut that he knows you are.

You whimper around him, saliva dripping down your chin, and when he hisses your name, you slide your hands up to caress his thighs. He allows it, watching you with those dark eyes you’ve dreamed of far too often and you whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth after several moments.

“Get up and bend over the couch.” Dave growls, slapping his cock on the side of your cheek. “Want to cum inside you. after you’ve screamed my name so much that your throat is raw.”

You scramble onto the sofa, desperate to feel him inside of you, to get fucked the way you desperately want to get fucked. You look over at Johnny who has tears in his eyes and you mouth “I’m sorry.” It’s useless but you still want him to know how sorry you are. You’re an eager whore for Dave but he didn’t deserve to get caught in the mess.

Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and kneels behind you. The barrel of the gun slides up your drenched slit and he chuckles when you stiffen. “I could fuck you with this gun. Click the safety off and shove the barrel in your cunt,” he coos, loving how you whimper. “But I’d rather feel you around me first.” He pulls the barrel back and presses it against your puckered hole. “Maybe next time.” He guides himself to your cunt with his other hand and only pulls the gun completely away when he snaps his hips forward and fills you up.

Your gasp echoes in the cabin, shocked at the abrupt way he fills you, stretching you out, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Equal parts painful and pleasurable. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Oh fuck.” You choke, unable to breath as he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust around him before he’s pulling out to set a harsh pace, pounding into you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Dave hisses at how tight you get, pressing his hand on your lower back when you arch it up. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you love this don’t you?” He chuckles and glances over at where Johnny is sobbing in the chair. “This is what you should have done. You should feel how fucking tight she gets every time I rock into her.” He smirks. “But you won’t, because you can’t fuck her like I can.” He slaps your ass and thrusts harder into you, the slapping of his hips against your ass filling the cabin.

You cry out, his words shouldn’t turn you on but they do. It’s true. Johnny has never fucked you like this. It’s animalistic and you’re fucking breathless, panting as he slams his hips against yours over and over again, gun still in hand as he runs the barrel along your back.

“That’s it, taking it like the little slut you are.” Dave growls, enjoying the way you clench down around him. “My slut. Your cunt needed a real cock inside it. A man who isn’t afraid to hurt you, wants to hurt you.” He groans when you squeal and concentrates on that angle as he plows into you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes deep inside of you, making you fall forward onto your elbows as you can’t remain upright on your hands anymore. “Yes. You. Needed you.” You know it’s wrong but you’re lost in the haze of lust and you can’t see Johnny’s heartbroken look as you wantonly moan for Dave.

Dave growls, loving how you just admitted that in front of your pathetic boyfriend. “You look so good.” He pants out, “split open on my cock. Be a good girl and cum and then I’m really going to make you squeal.”

You can’t hold back, even if you tried, you cry out when he smacks your ass again and you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him. You bite your lip, trying to smother your moan because you know Johnny is still watching you.

Dave growls, pissed that you would try to muffle your moans, and he reaches back to grab your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t you fucking bite your lip.” He huffs. “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend and the last thing he will ever see is you cumming on my cock,”

You hate that his words make you clamp down even more on his cock. He’s so commanding, it makes you soak him, and he grabs your jaw, forcing you to release your lip. “I’m sorry.” You gasp, to both Dave and Johnny. The fact that you are getting fucked by another man in front of your sweet boyfriend has your heart breaking but your body is aching for Dave.

Dave huffs. Sliding his gun hand down as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the barrel nudging your clit and he smirks when you gasp and your body reacts. “No you aren’t. You love this. You wanted my cock for so long.” He tells you. “You don’t think I didn’t know you searched my history? Saw what I was into? What I imagined doing to you?”

You would be mortified that he knew you’d seen the videos but he’s making your fantasies come true right now and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the way he fucks up into you, the cold barrel of the gun nudging your clit enough to make you moan again. “I- fuck - it was so filthy. The - the choking. The spanking. I- I want that so much.” You admit, knowing Johnny wasn’t capable of giving that to you.

“You’re gonna get it.” He promises, feeling your cunt start to relax and he pulls out of you to turn you on your back. Throwing your legs back up into his shoulders, Dave wastes no time slamming back into you to start pounding you into the couch like he imagined when he was watching Johnny fucking you, folding you over to make sure he can plunge deep.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You squeal, he’s so deep inside of you. You feel like he’s in your guts. “Fuck baby. Oh fuck.” You sob, sounding authentic, not faking it like you did with Johnny. “Oh my God.” You whine, cupping your tits as he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so slutty.” Dave hisses, loving the way your cunt just floods his cock with your juices, every time he thrusts into you more coats him. It’s dripping down his thighs and his balls. Reaching up, he slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt you. “My whore.” He growls, grabbing your throat and squeezing like he had imagined so many times. He could never do this to Carol, she didn’t like anything but basic lovemaking, but you are different. You will give him what he needs.

You grip his forearm as he fucks into you, making you moan and writhe. He grips your neck a little tighter and it cuts off some of your air, making you choke but your cunt squeezes his cock. You love this. It’s filthy and everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You love this.” He coos mocking, grinning over at where your boyfriend has his eyes closed. “Open your fucking eyes.” He orders, pointing the gun back at Johnny and his pace falters slightly. “Watch her get fucked. Every second of my cock inside you, you watch. Knowing you can’t give her this.”

You gasp, hating that you’re so turned on by his authority, and you whimper when he hits something incredible inside of you. Johnny opens his eyes, the look in them is heartbroken and it kills you to know that it’s over between you. He’d never want you now and you don’t know if you would want him after experiencing Dave. “Shit. Shit. I’m gonna cum.” You squeal, feeling how close you are.

Gritting his teeth, your squeal just makes him rock into you harder. Wanting to see how hard you cum, Dave holds the gun up to your head and pulls the trigger.

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But you cum when he pulls the trigger. The way your life flashes before your eyes as you wonder if he’s just killed you only to hear the click of the trigger and nothing else. It’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to you and you gush, soaking him with your cum as you sob his name.

Dave groans, feeling your cum soak him. Making him hiss, flexing his finger and dropping the gun as he lunges forward. Folding you over as he presses his lips to yours and buries his cock deep as he can get it, coating your walls in hot ropes of his seed.

You pant against his mouth, hands wrapping around his shoulders, and you pull him even closer, “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You whine into his mouth, his cock twitching inside of you and he pushes his cum out of you with each rock of his hips.

He practically grins against your lips in satisfaction. Feeling you pull him closer is his personal triumph, getting you to admit that you need what he gives you. Riding out his orgasm before he pulls back to see your body just sag into the couch as he admires his cum starting to well up in your abused pussy.

You open your eyes, looking up at Dave as he shifts off of you, leaning back to admire his cum after pulling out of your cunt. “That’s how you’re supposed to fuck her. That’s how she should look. Wrecked. Ruined.” Dave tells Johnny who is crying, blinking to stop himself from closing his eyes, fearful of Dave despite the gun being set aside.

Dave stands, starting to pull his clothes back on and picks up his gun. “You drove up here, so I’m going to take Johnny down to the bus station.” He tells you. “Safe to say he won’t be staying.”

You are too dazed to really think about it. You nod, knowing you will have to call Johnny and break up formally but you doubt he will ever talk to you again. "I'm sorry Johnny." You whisper, watching Dave untie him from the chair but not ungag your boyfriend who looks equal parts disgusted and scared. You know Dave will send him on his way and then you have no clue what will happen next. You can only hope that he fucks you again.

“Stay here.” Dave shoves Johnny towards the door but doesn’t give him a chance to stop and look at you. Opening the door and pushing him outside before locking it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Dave chuckles quietly as the other man starts to struggle against the rope around his hands. “I won’t leave her alone too long.”

You sigh, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The guilt is creeping up on you but the ache in your body pushes it aside. You’ve never been so satisfied and you’re eager for Dave to return, wondering what the next steps are. Part of you worries if he will kill you. You know he’s capable of it. Part of you wonders if he will simply leave you out here to make your way home.

Dave drives Johnny five miles away from the cabin, turning down an old dirt road that leads to an abandoned property. “You don’t have to worry.” Dave chuckles as he parks the car. “Everything will be fine.” He gets out and rounds the car, pulling an increasingly frantic Johnny out. “Shut up.” He hisses, pushing him up against the car and searching for his phone. He smirks when he pulls it out of his left pocket. “You are going to break up with her. Tell her that you never want to see her again.” He chuckles and puts the now loaded gun up to his temple and urges him away from the car. “Let me show you where I’m going to dump your body.” He taunts. “There’s a very nice, dry well. Perfect for you to rot in.”

Johnny cries, sobbing as Dave pushes him towards the well and he knows he has one chance to fight. He spins around, trying to knock the gun from Dave’s hand and he succeeds, deciding to run. He sprints, his hands still bound, and he can barely breathe with the gag in his mouth. “Fucker.” Dave hisses, scrambling to pick up the gun to run after the younger man. When he catches up, he aims and shoots him in the head, watching the body fall to the ground. “Had to make it messy, huh?” Dave huffs as he drags his body to the well. No one would find Johnny.

After he’s unlocked Johnny’s phone with the Face ID, he shoves the body into the well and smirks as he flips through your texts. Frowning slightly when he sees the exchange where he had been trying to convince you to leave your job with the girls, wanting you to move in with him. “Asshole.” He hisses, angrily typing out the breakup message to you, signaling the end of your relationship permanently. After he sends the message, he blocks your number and shuts the phone down, throwing it into the well, along with his body and hums to himself as he walks back to his car. Now he just needs to deal with you.

You stumble from the bathroom, having peed and cleaned up, when you hear your phone ding. Picking it up, you frown when you see the message from Johnny and open it.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Knowing you’ve been his whore and let him fuck you shows what kind of person you are. You are disgusting and I never want to see you again. I hope he satisfies your slutty needs and he’s gonna break your heart. Good luck.

The message makes you tear up, not able to refute his claims that Dave will break your heart. You know that. He’s probably on his way back now to do just that. You pull on your shirt and panties and sit on the sofa, typing a message back.

I’m so sorry, Johnny. I do love you. He just gave me what I needed. Can we please talk? I don’t want to end things like this. You hit send and the message never says delivered. He’s blocked you. That makes you cry, mourning the safe, yet boring relationship you had with Johnny.

Pulling back up to the cabin, Dave is happy to see your car still there. Scoffing to himself because Johnny had been happy to let you whisk him away rather than him doing it to you. Knowing it’s slightly sexist, but he doesn’t give a shit. You need a man to take care of you, and Dave is going to be that man. “I’m back.” He announces, walking back into the main room and frowning when he sees you crying. “What’s wrong?”

You sniff, wiping your eyes when you see Dave. “Johnny broke up with me.” You gesture to your phone and Dave wants to roll his eyes.

“And that’s a bad thing?” He asks and you bite your lip.

“I- I don’t know. I feel guilty. I- I fucked you in front of my boyfriend and now he’s - oh God. Carol. And the girls. I- shit.” You start to panic, realizing how wrong this all is.

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head, sitting down and reaching out for you. He doesn’t care about what you are feeling but he has to pretend like he does. “Fuck that loser, or- don’t fuck him. He couldn’t make you cum. And Carol isn’t going to find out about this.”

“How do you know? I - I can’t look her in the eyes when we go back home. She- she’s gonna know. I can feel it. Oh God. This was so wrong. You shouldn’t have done this. You were supposed to be at home and now I- fuck.” You cling to him, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Hush.” Dave insists, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. Some people just can’t have a poker face and you are one of them. Not that it matters. His hand slides down into your panties and he pinches your clit. “Don’t think about it.” He growls. “Think about what I’m going to do to you right now. In my bed.”

You choke on your sob, his fingers rubbing your clit has you whimpering. The alternations between pinching and rubbing make you moan and your tears run down your cheeks but you stop sobbing. “Fuck. Dave.” You whine, turning your head to kiss his neck.

“That’s it, concentrate on how much you want it.” He groans, his flaccid cock twitching. He always has wanted to fuck someone after he’s killed and he’s going to get to, the gunpowder still fresh on his skin. “You need it. You need what I’m going to do to you.” He bites down roughly on your shoulder, sure that his teeth will leave impressions through your shirt.

"I do. I really do." You gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. He smells like smoke, something you can't put your finger on, but you love it. It smells like Dave. "More. Need more." You whine and cry out when he slaps your cunt with his palm.

"Patience." He demands and you whimper, "please Dave."

Dave smirks, enjoying how eager you are for him. He pushes a finger deep inside your cunt and curls it up. “When I am here, you are to wear nothing.” He orders harshly, pumping his finger before adding another. “You will be ready to take my cock in whatever hole I want to fuck.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready. I’m yours. Have been yours. Just - I need more.” You beg, lost in the pleasure to really take note of his words. You reach out to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting more of him.

Dave growls, rocking his hips up, “take your fucking shirt off before I cut it off.” He demands, wanting to bite and suck on your tits. Eager to leave his teeth marks on your skin. To make you feel him when he leaves tonight. He pushes his fingers deep and rough. “Now.”

You scramble to follow his order, pulling the shirt over your head to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He surges down to bite down on your nipple, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers curl deep inside of you and you’re so close. He unravels you impossibly fast until finally, you clamp down on his digits, his teeth buried in your breast.

Dave groans in delight, feeling his teeth break the skin and the coppery tang of your blood floods his taste buds. Not enough to really do damage but from the way you clench around him, you love it.

You pant as he slows his fingers, letting you enjoy your orgasm and your eyes are still closed when he tells you to look at him. “You’re mine now.”

You nod, “I’m yours. I- I always have been.” You tell him truthfully.

“Good.” Dave pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them into your mouth, nearly gagging you. “Now, your going to go into the bedroom and spread yourself on my bed, I need to get the toy you will have in your cunt while I fuck your ass.”

You shouldn’t shake with anticipation but you’ve never done anal before. None of your boyfriends were interested in the prep work and you wonder if Dave is the same. If he’s gonna just try to stick it in. You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your knees to display your cunt and puckered hole.

When he had come into the cabin, he had dropped a duffel bag near the door. All the supplies he needs inside, he unzips it, removing a toy, a bottle of lube and the handcuffs. The collar and chain are left in the bottom, along with the padlocks he had brought to secure the cabin. Taking them into the bedroom, he grunts in satisfaction when he sees you kneeling. “Has anyone every fucked your ass?”

You shake your head. “No. No one has.” You admit, hissing when he smacks your ass over the welts that are still sensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “You can. I want you to. Just - just be gentle.” You plead, knowing he won’t but maybe he will consider it.

He snorts, pulling your hands behind your back and slapping the cuffs on them. “Depends on how good you are for me.” He won’t be too rough, he wants you to anticipate him fucking you rather than trying to shy away. Leaning over and grinning, Dave spits on your puckered hold and reaches out to massage it into your skin.

"Shit." You hiss at the new sensation. No one has done this to you and you already fucking love it. "Fuck Dave." You pant when he pushes his finger a little deeper inside of you. "I'll be good." You promise, arching your back and your abused cunt clenches around nothing.

“I know you will.” Dave coos, pulling his finger out and coating it with lube so he can push it back inside you. “You know what I’m capable of. What I could do to you.” He chuckles when your tight hole clenches around his digits. “You like that I’m a killer.”

You can’t deny it. It turns you on to know what he’s capable of. “Oh fuck baby. Yes. Yes I do.” You confess, “I love it. I want you to be the one to fuck my ass.” You tell him breathlessly and you gasp when he adds another finger to stretch you out.

The sounds are slick and you aren’t pulling away as he starts to pump and scissor two fingers inside your ass. Making him groan at the sight of your clenching cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are nice and filled up.” He grins, picking up the dildo he had formed from his own cock using one of those kits. “My cock will be the last one you have inside you. Even a toy.”

You hear him squirt lube onto the dildo and you gasp when you feel the silicone press against your cunt. You moan when he starts to push the toy inside of you. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, trying to relax around the girth and you realize that the toy is as thick as Dave.

He chuckles, admiring the way your lips stretch around the toy. “You look good like this, even better when my cock is in your ass.” He taunts.

You pant as he works the toy in and out of you, his fingers scissoring your ass open and you collapse forward, resting your cheek on the sheets, your fingers flexing in the handcuffs. “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles again and pulls his fingers out of your ass. “You’re ready to be full, huh?” He slaps your ass, leaving the toy inside your cunt as he slathers his cock in lube. He wants it to be slick, for himself and for you taking his cock in your ass for the first time.

“Yes.” You whimper, making him smirk as he slaps your ass and shuffles closer.

You pant as he presses the head of his cock against your puckered hole and you hold your breath as he starts to push inside of you. It hurts, but you can handle it. His hand caresses your back, “breathe.” He orders and you exhale shakily, inhaling deeply on the next breath. He’s so thick it stings but you want this. You try to relax so you can take as much of him as possible.

Unlike the first time he pushed inside your cunt, Dave takes his time. Works himself an inch at a time. Aware that this is new, plus you still have the toy filling up the other hole on the other side of the thin skin. He can feel the ridges in the silicone and he groans as he rocks into you. “Fuck- fuck you’re going to be so good for me? Taking this cock and a toy aren’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

You nod, “yes. Whatever you want. I love - I love it.” You tell him, groaning when he starts to move inside of you. “Yes. Oh yes baby.” You pant when he starts to move faster and he’s gripping the toy, working that in and out too. It’s more than you’ve ever felt and you are already on the edge.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so-“ Dave groans, gritting his teeth and biting off his words when you spasm around him, close to cumming already. “Shiiiit.” He hisses, rocking his hips faster, slapping them against your ass as he works up to a frantic pace.

You squeal when he picks up the pace, pushing into you over and over again. “Yes. Yes! Keep - keep going. Keep going. I - fuck. You’re gonna make me - Dave. Oh Dave!” You clamp down on the toy, squeezing it inside of your walls and you squeeze Dave, shaking as you sob into the sheets at the intensity of your orgasm.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut.” Dave groans, slowing down and rocking his hips a lot slower than before. He wants you exhausted by the time he is done with you. He needs you to sleep while he closes up the house. “That’s good baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” He praises, caressing your spine. “Want you to cum again. You’re gonna come for me again.”

You recover against the bedsheets, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your spine, until he starts to fuck you again. This time, he’s slower. Not as rushed as he rocks his hips, and you try to grind back onto him, arms aching from the handcuffs but you daren’t ask him to remove them.

Looking down, he watches his cock move inside you. Aware that he is recording this very moment on the camera system to keep and watch back whenever he wants. “Gonna fuck you every week.” He groans, twitching inside you. “First you’re going to suck my cock. Kneel down and take my cock down your throat while I finish up work.” He tells you, like he’s explaining how things will go. Because he is. “Then I’m going to fuck your cunt full.”

"Oh God." His words make you burn and you want that, you want him. Every fucking day. "Yes. Yes. My pussy is yours, Dave. I belong to you." You promise, tears stinging in your eyes as your wildest dreams come true. "I need you. I need this."

“You are mine.” He groans, rocking his hips faster and he reaches around you to slap your clit and rub it harshly. “Forever. You’re mine. Mine. You’re going to give me more kids.”

You wonder if he’s just babbling or if he means it. It’s hard to not give into the fantasy. You want him to knock you up, claim you in every way. But you know that if you were lucid, you would be terrified to get knocked up by a married man. “Yes. Yes. Gonna have your babies. As many as you want.”

He snarls, closing his eyes and gripping your hips harshly as he starts fucking into you harshly again. Rubbing your clit in a desperate effort for you to cum again. His control slipping at your acceptance of what he has planned for you. “Yes, fuck, yes, cum for me.”

You can't deny him, clamping down on the toy that is still inside of you, while his cock pushes deep and his fingers play with your clit. "Oh my - fuck!" You scream, almost blacking out from the pleasure. This is what you've wanted, what you've craved since you started working for the Yorks. Now you've got it, your entire body is on fire.

He feels your body give out, collapsing against the bed and flattening out so he just follows you. Still fucking into your ass like a man possessed and his hand trapped between you and the bed, rubbing your clit. He growls out your name, burying his cock deep and filling you with another load of his cum, pulsing deep inside the other hole he had claimed.

You can't open your eyes, you can't move. Knowing he's cum inside of you again, and the way he growled your name, it's more than you can bear. "Fuck. I- I love you. I love you. I love you." You sob, knowing he won't reply but you want him to know.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t. Not when he has the girls and Carol and all the shit that he does. But he does want you. You’re his. He rides out his high and starts to slowly ease out of you once he’s done.

You sigh when he pulls out of you, slowly removing the toy too and you feel so empty. His cum drips out of you, and you want him to take the handcuffs off and cuddle you but he won’t. He will probably uncuff you and then send you on your way. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing how good this was and you know you’ll need him again soon.

Dave caresses your ass for a moment before he moves towards the bathroom. He needs to clean you up. “I’ll uncuff you in just a second.” He promises, grabbing the toy and bringing it with him.

You watch him come back in with the rag, hissing as he cleans up your abused holes, and you sigh when he unlocks the cuffs, rubbing your wrists. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask him softly, wanting him to have loved being inside of you.

“Obsessed.” Dave answers with an honest smirk. He knows that you are going to want reassurance and intimacy so he motions for you to get under the covers and pulls them back to get into the bed with you. “I’ll be thinking about it when I’m not inside you.”

Your eyes widen as he slides into bed beside you and you are surprised when he wraps his arms around you. You smile, shifting back to snuggle into him, breathing him in. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but you have him tonight. He strokes along your stomach and you are lulled into sleep, exhausted from the sex and the events of the day.

He waits until you are softly snoring, slipping out of the bed and picking up your phone to type out another text message, one that would be sent to his phone. Smirking to himself as he hits send, removes your SIM card and erases it. He’s had your password for a long time and now he’s used it. Redressing and stepping out with the bag and padlocks to start shuttering the cabin windows. With you inside.

****

You blink as you wake up, confused by your surroundings until you remember that Dave had fallen asleep beside you. You sigh and turn over in bed, frowning when you feel the cold sheets beside you. He’s gone. You knew he would leave but a small part of you hoped he would stay. You get out of the bed, shrugging on your robe that you’d brought with you, and you frown when you see the cabin is in darkness. You walk over to the window to open the curtains and you gasp when you find it shut up. Starting to panic, you go through each window, finding each one boarded up, and you rush over to the front door. Screaming when you find it locked, you tug on the handle with no use. You’re locked in. “Dave! Dave! Dave!” You shout, praying he’s still here and this is some kind of joke. You rush around the cabin but he’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my God.” You panic, chest heaving as you come to realize he’s locked you in.

Watching the screen, Dave sees you panicking. He picks up his cell phone to dial the cabin. He’s set it up so that only he can dial in, there are no outgoing calls to be made. He watches you jump when the phone peels and you rush over to it. “Dave! What- what is going on? What - why are you doing this?” You cry, making him exhale slowly, keeping his patience for now.

“You said you’re mine.” He reminds you quietly. “You didn’t want Carol to find out. So this is perfect. You will stay here, I’ll be up to see you every couple of days and bring you supplies.” He rasps into the phone. “I can see you on the cameras and I’ll call you once a day. Tell me if you need me to bring you anything. And when I come, you can have me just like you said you wanted.”

Your hands shake as you look around the cabin, trying to spot the cameras and you think you see one in the corner. “Please don’t do this. I- I wouldn’t tell Carol. It would be our little secret. I don’t - please Dave. I can be a good girl. I won’t tell anyone. Just - just come and let me out. Please. I - fucking let me out of here!” You shout down the phone, losing your cool as you start to have a panic attack at the fact that he’s locked you in the cabin.

“Ah ah ah.” Dave tuts disappointedly. “A good girl wouldn’t yell about her situation.” He tells you. “I’ll be back in three days, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll bring those cookies you love. And you don’t have to worry about Johnny.” He decides to tell you the truth. “I killed him. And you texted me, telling me that you were quitting to move in with him. So Carol won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

You sob, hearing the truth that Dave killed Johnny. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. You nearly drop the phone, covering your mouth to smother your sob but know Dave can see it on the camera. “Don’t be sad. Now we can be together. When I want. I’m gonna have you forever. You’re mine now.” Dave declares and hangs up the phone.

You frantically try to call back on the phone but the line is dead. You press the numbers over and over with no response so you finally slump down onto the floor. Dave killed Johnny and now you are his prisoner. Your selfishness has ruined everything, Dave has destroyed everything. You cry for Johnny, for your future, and you know you won’t make it out of here alive. Dave won’t let you go now. You’ll be his. Forever.

#pedro pascal #dddne #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x nanny!reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #dave york fanfiction #dave york imagine #dark!dave york #tw murder #tw imprisonment #consensual noncon #tw dubious consent

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 3 months

Text

'Til Death Do Us Part║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

| 'Til Death Do Us Part | fourth and final part of the Whistle in the Dark limited series ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x married!fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 20.2k 👀 | CONTENT: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, deranged Horny Demon Hours shit, cuckolding!, erotic gore, feticide/miscarriage, acts of service: extreme mode, bodily fluids in places they shouldn’t be, torture, brutality, inappropriate use of handheld tools, mental manipulation through violence, menstruation-centered erotic acts, cumplay?, kidnapping, the vibe of the pottery wheel scene from Ghost except violent, discussions of verbal/emotional/physical abuse, so much blood from multiple people, bloodplay, lots of things with a knife, WHAT!TOWN?!Joel

| SYNOPSIS: The tangled web of Matthew's deceit and manipulation have ensnared you and crafted a dismal end.

Please be aware that this installment in particular might be potentially triggering for SA/DV survivors who have dealt with the legal system and its many, many failings for the most vulnerable populations. Please read with care. 💜

You hear the dull rumblings of voices. The cadences vary from deep to soft to rushed and even some hazy amalgamation of all those things. Your head is pounding. Everything sounds like you’re underwater. Your lungs hurt like you’re underwater, too, like you’ve been submerged too long and haven’t taken a proper breath in ages. You’re stiff. You’re sore.

You’re alive.

The voices are becoming clearer - or maybe just louder - as they try to speak over one another. You can make out the sound of someone’s pitched, anxious whispering before a flurry of responses –

“ —don’t give a flyin’ FUCK what any of ‘em hafta say.” “—protocol that can’t just be ignored.” “—obviously not what’s goin’ on here, Joel.”

Your head is throbbing with indecision over whether or not you want to try moving a limb. You manage a twitch of your fingers on your nondominant hand. That goes okay, so you chance some movement from the wrist up. Instant stiffness and discomfort. You whimper. The voices continue.

“—takin’ the law into your own hands–”

“—fuckin’ makeshift town at the end of the world. Ain’t no fuckin’ laws anymore, Tommy.”

“—always been a weak spot for you, Joel.”

The overhead lights sear your vision when you finally work up the strength to open your eyes. The blinding rush acts as some sort of sensory accelerant, a deluge of sensations hitting you from all sides at once now. Almost all of it is painful and prickling. Your eyes snap shut. You’re hyper aware of the fabric laying against your skin, rubbing and gritting against you even though you are still. The dull, tired thrum of your heart beats in time to some lost song. The escalating volume and tension of the argument happening at the end of your bed – what you assume is a bed, anyway – makes your head feel worse.

Sound comes easier and clearer from one side of your head, the side that Matthew didn’t pummel.

Matthew.

Nebulous recollections leap into your consciousness, sharp and clear. The memory of him striking you makes you jerk. His taunts, his promises of your death and possibly his own if things didn’t go his way…

Matthew was going to kill you and then probably himself, all while Joel watched. The stimulus to cry comes over you, but no tears come. Exhaustion won’t allow it.

You hear a voice directly above you. “Baby?” It’s Joel, but he sounds off. He sounds worried. But Joel didn’t worry. That wasn’t like him. He just handled whatever came his way and moved on. This antsy, apprehensive voice belonged to a different Joel.

The sticky accumulation of grime and dried spit made it hard to move your mouth to respond. You wince at something wet and warm being gently dabbed against your lips.

“Hold still, honey. Just a minute now,” he soothes.

You peel your eyes open with immense effort and wait for the blurred shapes to come into focus.

Tommy. Maria. Joel.

Hushed, sniping whispers shoot back and forth. You blink away the haze and take in your surroundings. It looks like the clinic. If you had any energy left for humor, you’d laugh at the irony of it all. The last time you were here was when you and Joel were treated for injuries you sustained on patrol together. It was the same day you’d walked home after being patched up only to discover Matthew and Natalie together in your bed. Your thoughts turn to ruminations of how this could’ve been avoided if you’d just told everyone the truth about Matthew right then and there. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you wouldn’t have put people’s lives in danger.

“M’sorry,” you wheeze. It hurts to talk. You wonder how long you’ve been out.

“Don’t you dare,” Joel warns, stern and unwavering.

“Take it easy,” Maria calmly suggests. You aren’t sure if she means you or Joel. Probably both.

“Been through the wringer,” Tommy adds quietly. “No need to push yourself too much.”

You move your moistened lips back and forth a few times to prime yourself for speaking. “Where is he?”

The room is quiet as if they were all hoping it would take longer for you to arrive at that question.

“He can’t hurt you,” Joel insists. “Locked up. Can’t hurt nobody. Not anymore.”

“He’s being held at the correctional center until a clear narrative of what happened can be established,” Maria supplies, sounding almost clumsy in her terse delivery.

“He-He came into—was too fast–couldn’t–”

Your explanation is cut off with a cough. Your mouth is scratchy and dry. Joel helps you to sit up straighter, drawing a hissing groan of pain from you, and tilts a cup of what you assume is water onto your lips. You gently sip in small increments.

“How long?” Your voice is thick with sleep and pain.

“Been here a few days is all,” Tommy answers. “Been comin’ and goin’ but mostly just sleepin’. Got you some medicine onboard to help with it all. Been worried. ‘Specially this one.” He juts his chin towards Joel, who scowls in their general direction.

You’d grimace if you could stand the discomfort of it. You’d roped Joel into your bullshit just like you’d dreaded. Your mind warpspeed shifts to Ellie. Ellie. You startle in your weakened state. Joel seems to understand.

“She’s okay. Knew somethin’ was up before she even made it through the door. Smart kid.”

A heavy sigh of relief escapes you. With the situation as dire as it had been - and still is - Matthew only managing to harm you was the best case scenario. You maintain a neutral face as Joel fills in the blank spots in your memory. How Ellie had come back home to gather some clothes for her sleepover. How she’d felt something was off when she sensed the unnatural stillness of the house. How she spotted Matthew hovering over your unconscious body and thought he’d killed you.

Your heart wrenches at the thought of her seeing you like that. Ellie didn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this. You’d brought pain onto her and Joel both. As Joel recounts how she’d run to Tommy’s for help, your lungs feel like they’ve shrunk. Apparently Matthew had been taken by surprise at her appearance, forgetting that she even lived there.

Leaders in the community spoke with Tommy. Spoke with Ellie. Even spoke with Joel and Natalie’s dad, after it came to light that Joel had sparked something in this entire collapse. Matthew had scrambled like a coward once Ellie outpaced him and went running for help. He was apprehended within the hour, and you were whisked away to the clinic even sooner.

Ellie showing up to get those clothes had probably saved your life. Your stomach gnaws and shreds itself with that piece of knowledge. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d wanted to avoid, and here you’d put so many through so much unnecessary hurt in such a short span of time.

Your stomach only felt all the more gutted as you listened to Tommy and Maria explain that interviews had been going on all while you’d been unconscious and Matthew had been in a retaining cell. Several of Matthew’s “conquests” had heard of all the news with his newly pregnant partner and the inappropriate conduct with a minor. They’d been called upon to share their testimony as to whether or not Matthew had ever suggested or carried out violent and abusive behavior towards them. They all truthfully attested that he had never been anything of the sort.

Joel shot Maria a nasty look when she volunteered the information about a few of them floating the idea that you had probably injured yourself and somehow lured Matthew to talk with you so that you could claim he’d done all this damage to you.

An idea that you were so desperate for revenge and to ruin his life that you would concoct an elaborate sort of story where such a thing would’ve happened. It was just the natural outflow of the groundwork he’d laid over the weeks about how you were supposedly physically aggressive, how you’d put hands on him before, how you weren’t the same person behind closed doors, how he’d finally put his foot down and left you.

It wasn’t just the town gossip Angelica that had been feasting on the morsels of lies that Matthew had been steadily feeding to sources that were sure to pass along such salacious information. Unfortunately for you, Matthew had always been a manipulative smooth talker, always ten steps ahead of you. He’d been setting the stage for this sort of situation, smart enough to assume at least a few of his past lover’s responses to the questions would lean towards this bastardization of events. So before anyone had even testified yet, he’d already fed the story to the leadership council. He fabricated some story about how you’d asked him to talk, and he felt sorry enough for you to agree to it.

Joel tries to shut the conversation down when he sees the tears brimming along your lashline, but you shake your head and insist on hearing it all. You have to know what you’re up against, and as Maria continues, you realize just how much of a monster you’re facing.

As it stands, his account of events is the sole firsthand statement on the situation, and it’s just as pernicious and artful as you would anticipate from a man like him. By his version of things, you’d begged him to talk to him, and he’d pitied you enough to oblige, meeting at Joel’s house as planned. When he came upstairs to find you, he discovered your intentional, self-inflicted injuries along with an already disrupted room, all meant to signal a struggle had taken place. You’d taunted him for walking right into your trap, insisting that Joel would be home soon and would react to protect you once he saw the scene you’d created. You’d laughed in his face about Joel fighting for your honor, willing to kill to protect you. All of it an elaborate ruse you’d arranged just so you could physically assault him and threaten his life.

He’d enacted just enough self-defense to prevent you from fatally attacking him, avoiding your blows whenever possible because he didn’t want to fight back and hurt you somehow in the process even though it would’ve been in his right to do so. Ellie’s surprise appearance was “an intervention from the Lord above,” or so he’d thought at the time. When she discovered him standing calmly over your unmoving body, he realized she’d fallen right into your plan as well, running off thinking he’d been the perpetrator in all of this. Fearing that she was running to find Joel and bring him back to the house - just what your masterplan had been all along - he’d fled.

He didn’t deny the large kitchen knife he’d had on his person in the house, claiming he’d gone to grab it at some point when he’d finally managed to subdue your attacks. It was the only self-defense he had if you woke up and started attacking him again. His entire narrative was one of self-defense, of fearing for his life, of fleeing on foot once he feared either Joel or his brother Tommy were going to return with Ellie and retaliate for the perceived attack.

You feel frozen to the spot as you listen. The icy sense of dread crept through your veins as it all sunk in.

The boxes from unpacking had been strewn about and a mess as you’d tried to work through them. Coupled with the upturned items in the bedroom, it presented a space in disarray. It backed up his version of events.

His body was riddled with defensive wounds from his fight with Natalie’s dad. Even with the word from John that he had in fact had a physical altercation with Matthew, it made it impossible to determine when and where his injuries had been sustained since no one else had seen Matthew between that encounter and his encounter with you. It backed up his version of events.

For all the ways he’d wronged you, he’d shown love and tenderness to a constellation of lovers, all of whom had truthfully testified that he had never once laid a hand on them, been verbally aggressive, or shown a hint of a temper. It backed up his version of events.

Your history of coming from a violent upbringing, of how you’d grown up in a world where it was normalized, was perhaps the source of your “continuation of that cycle” simply because “you’d never known anything else.” It was a particularly cold-hearted blow, and it backed up his version of events.

The knife in his hand, the weapon for his own protection if he were put in a dire spot because of your insistence on physically assaulting him, could’ve easily been used to murder you. But he didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to do it if that had been his intent, so why was he instead just “hanging around”? Why, if he had gone there to assault and murder you, hadn’t he just done it? It backed up his version of events.

He was not striking you, harming you, or aggressively engaging with you in any way when Ellie came home. She’d only seen him calmly waiting with your unconscious form. Her insistence that “it obviously didn’t seem right” fell on deaf ears. She’d only been telling the truth when she testified that she didn’t personally witness any attacks from either party. It backed up his version of events.

With a “beautiful baby on the way” and the path to “finally making decisions for a better life,” the legitimacy of his motive was questionable at best. You on the other hand had been left “bitter and jilted” by his decision to break things off and move on with someone else. He had everything to live for, everything going for him. You’d lost everything and been “left behind.” It backed up his version of events.

Each intricate, sinister lie entwined delicately into the next, so well explained and proactively contradicting to your version of events - the truth. Each fictitious strand clung to the next until a tapestry of deception had been woven, blanketing any hope you’d ever have in refuting each of the claims. He’d gotten ahead of the narrative, all because you were drifting in and out of consciousness from the battered state he’d put you into, no less.

He’d already won. He’d already won, and you hadn’t even had a chance to speak a word of truth.

The strict orders from medical staff to “take it slow” were laughable. A handful of residents were calling for your own stint in a retaining cell until all the investigation had been completed. That handful grew over the next several days while the council continued gathering all the information about the situation, getting witness accounts starting from when you got back from the patrol trip. It was a lot of information to go through and determine what was true and what wasn’t, what was embellished or glossed over.

You never strayed from the truth when you gave your piece to the Council, but it felt like it didn’t even matter. It had already been whittled down to a “he said, she said” situation. You wanted so badly to keep the faith that Council was simply doing their due diligence in getting all the facts prior to making such a huge decision as whether or not Matthew would be asked to leave Jackson…. or perhaps you. After you’d been placed on house arrest in lieu of a retaining cell - thanks to Maria’s shrewd intervention - you knew you’d truly lost.

It didn’t matter that Maria had convinced them – lied on your behalf — that you weren’t medically stable enough for the holding cells and would require frequent medical supervision. It didn’t matter that she’d gently coached you on the importance of delivering your official testimony without the visual of Joel next to you. It didn’t matter how she’d pressed the importance of not reacting to anything too abruptly unless you wanted to paint yourself as the violent, volatile assailant that Matthew had claimed you were.

None of it mattered. You’d been abused for so long. You’d been through hell with Matthew. You’d lost so much. He humiliated you. He beat you. He intended to take your life that day. And yet, here you were, sat in the same room with said man who looked deceptively forlorn and stressed. You had to watch and calculate every action and reaction of yours today so that you were a believable victim, a credible picture of a woman wronged, the embodiment of the innocent hostage to an opportunistic man. Nevermind the fact that the man in question had nearly killed you and would attempt it again if given the right opportunity and was only a glance away from you this very moment.

There wasn't a large number of people present for the hearings. The town Council. Founding residents. Longtime respected pillars within the community. All were called upon to hear your official testimonies of your version of events. Matthew went first. He tucked his body into itself, looking smaller and more unsure. He didn’t look at you. You couldn’t look away.

“I-I was trying to do the right thing, is wh-what I thought. Ya know, talk to her even though I knew she wasn’t too happy about me ending our relationship,” he sniffs pathetically. “I just.. I didn’t think, even after all she’d done to me, I didn’t think she’d do this. I mean, the whole set up. Framing me? Trying to trap me into a place where I’d lose everything because - I don’t even know - I guess that’s what she felt I’d done to her?”

He shakes his head and laughs humorlessly at his hands that he fidgets back and forth nonstop. All a carefully curated and executed display from a master manipulator.

“I’m not gonna sit here and say I’m proud for all my actions. I know messing around with somebody who’s close to 18 doesn’t mean they’re an adult yet. She was the only one I’d ever — I never went after somebody just because they were younger. It was a stupid, stupid decision. I was just– I was just so lonely.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, mouth opening and closing like he can’t quite believe things had “gone this far.” When he shifts in his seat, you notice several others in the room readjust their own posture, maybe out of discomfort or maybe just subconsciously mirroring Matthew’s body language. You keep your teeth clamped together to stop from worrying your lip so hard it bleeds.

“After all the constant verbal takedowns and abuse from her—” he glances your direction for only a moment, just long enough for others to follow his line of sight and see he is talking about you, to you “—I was just broken. I-I wasn’t even myself anymore. I started making choices that aren’t me. I started getting with any woman who’d have my company. I was desperate for it. Desperate for anything other than the hell that was waiting for me at home.”

He shakes his head again, producing big tears to gather and fall down his face. He hitches his breath and sniffs louder now.

“I made bad choices, and I own up to those. But the idea that after finally being man enough to leave that type of situation…. To finally make a home and start a family with somebody who loves me and cares for me… It just doesn’t make sense. Why would I throw all that away? What, because she was with someone else? Of course not!” he laughs in that same humorless way again.

“I just only hoped he wasn’t gonna get it bad like I did all those years. I hoped and prayed she’d find peace with him - with anyone. If she could find some peace, maybe she wouldn’t need to do all of that, you know? To find whatever it is that she’s looking for, because god knows I’m not it.”

He pauses to wipe the palm of his hand roughly against his cheeks to clear away his tears. “I wished for so long to be able to be the guy to help her. I didn’t know why I wasn’t enough, I just knew that I never was.” He hangs his head in his hands for a moment before looking upward as though seeking divine guidance.

“I just ask that the council please take into consideration her upbringing. The day I met her, she was getting beat to death by her own damn flesh and bone. Her father and brother were set to kill her. Can you even imagine that? That type of evil? How can someone coming from that know any better? She needs help. She doesn’t need to be kicked out of this place. I know what she’s done is horrible, but please, if there’s anything that can be done to-to, I don’t know- to rehabilitate her or therapy or something. Please don’t send her out those gates to die. Please. I may have decided to break things off with her, but I still care for that woman so deeply. Please.”

You feel close to retching. He’s made a strong case for himself all while casting a shadow of doubt and fault in your direction. You can feel the eyes of every Jackson resident called to attend the hearing falling squarely on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at them anymore. What if you don’t convey the right emotion? What if your efforts to not empty the contents of your stomach onto the floor right now somehow read as guilt or remorse? What if your nerves and body language and facial expression and sounds and posture are interpreted as some admission of wrongdoing?

You can’t stare at your hands any longer if you want to avoid appearing like you’re hanging your head in defeat or regret or fault, so you settle for pushing through the queasiness and scanning the faces of the Council in front of you. A few faces remain stony or neutral, but just as many if not more have softened or, worse, looked away from Matthew at the discomfort of seeing a grown man weeping so openly. If it isn’t seen as an authentic act, that would have to mean he was some brutal, manipulative monster to fake such a moving display of grief and pain - a monster they’d allowed to live right under their noses this whole entire time. Admitting that’s who he really was would be in part admitting their own fault at not keeping Jackson safe.

The lie is working.

Midday break is called, and the air in the room feels like every particle of oxygen is dampened and weighted with the inevitability of your downfall. Matthew was going to walk away from this situation unscathed, and then he was going to kill you.

You just have to sit and wait for him to kill you.

The tremble in your hands is such that you can’t get a firm enough grip on the doorknob to get into the private adjunct room where you’d be spending break. Ellie reaches around you and turns it quickly, giving you a gentle nudge inside with Joel following closely behind. The door is no sooner shut than you double over a bin and start heaving. Joel doesn’t make a face or comment on the odor. He just helps you get straightened up before taking out the soiled container. The smell of your ruination lingers as you collapse into a nearby chair and break into sobs.

Joel returns with food you can’t imagine stomaching and water you reluctantly sip. He doesn’t speak, just pulls you close against him.

“He’s gonna kill me, Joel,” you shake out. “They believe him. He’s gonna walk away from this, and then he’s gonna kill me.” The last few words dissipate into a hitched octave, full of fear and defeat.

“No he ain’t,” Joel corrects sternly. You can only shake your head and cry, at a loss for words in this surreal situation.

“They can’t actually be buying that story!” Ellie argues. “Nobody would believe that shit! Right, Joel?”

When Joel doesn’t rush to corroborate her assessment, Ellie seems to deflate a bit. “You-you’re not serious. People think he’s innocent?”

Her tone of comprehensive disbelief is as fitting now as ever. You can’t believe this is happening, but at the same time you also know deep down this was always the only way this would go.

“We know the truth, Ellie,” Joel sighs. “People are weak. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you can’t count on people to do the right thing.” He finally pulls back to look at you. Your face crumples when you catch his apologetic expression. He’s as powerless in this situation as you are.

“But what about all those times she saved your life on patrol? And taking up for everybody’s shifts and covering people’s asses? How the fuck is that a bad person? Somebody that would plan something awful like that? Like, what? There’s no fucking way!” she sputters.

You blink unfocused at the floor, unsure of what to say or do. You want to comfort Ellie, but you don’t want to lie or get her hopes up. You know how this story ends.

“I don’t even give a shit if you did do something bad to him. Fuck it! I don’t believe him. I believe you. And he deserves every bit of what he gets, and then some!” Ellie asserts in a passionate appeal.

Despite everything, you smile to yourself. Ellie and Joel might not be blood, but they are certainly family in the way that it counts. And these two staunch supporters were in your corner, so you must be doing at least one thing right.

Joel cups your face in his hands and directs your attention to him, all fiery eyes and steely expression. “No one is going to hurt you. He’s not going to hurt you.”

He says it with such firmness and conviction, you want to believe him. You brush away the fat tears slipping down the curve of your cheek. It’s silent again in the room, and Joel goes back to just sitting with you and holding you. He’s quiet and a little detached. It’s probably for the best. If he starts distancing himself now, it might make it easier on everyone when this too good to be true dynamic comes to an end.

The end of break comes and goes without anyone arriving to collect you for the afternoon session. Ellie points it out, the first person to speak in what seems like forever. Just as Joel starts to get up to see what the delay is, Tommy scoots into the room. He gives you a sympathetic, curt bow of his head and glances at Joel.

“Listen, I think there’s some funny business goin’ on with Matthew. I don’t know exactly what the hold up is, but I’ve seen a few of the higher ups come and go outta his room.”

“What the fuck is that s’posed’ta–” Joel starts as the door opens again.

Maria and another Council member squeeze into the ever shrinking room. It’s one of the members who had looked away while Matthew forced himself to cry. The air feels thinner with all the crowding and news of Matthew’s odd behavior. Somehow you still hold enough space for worry that they will be able to smell the remnants of your vomit from earlier.

“Alright, folks, sorry for the delay. Looks like we’re gonna pick up tomorrow morning from where we left off today. The, uh, other party isn’t in much condition right now to carry on, so we’re gonna adjourn for right now,” the Council member explains.

You don’t even have to turn to Joel to know his nostrils are flared and fists clenched. No one says anything, and the palpable tension in the room hangs awkwardly in the space.

“He put forth a request for additional time to collect himself after the ‘emotionally draining’ testimony that was given this morning. Given his disposition we all saw and the fact that it’s not our intent to put anyone into a position of distress during this process, Council has granted his request on a one-time basis,” Maria adds.

You bite back a scathing remark. You have been nothing but distressed. You just didn’t have the luxury of letting your emotions run wild lest you portray yourself as some volatile, unstable person - the type of person who would do all the things Matthew has charged you with. You can’t afford the negative attention that a big show of emotion would likely garner, so you just do all that you can: keep it calm and keep it moving.

You wish that you’d been able to get the first word. You wish you’d been able to get ahead of the narrative so that it benefited you - benefitted the truth. You wish that you could also be seen as brave and raw and moving if you cried in front of everyone. But Matthew had got the drop on you and delivered his “authentic devastation” to a panel of sympathetic ears. His inability to control his emotions was not a point of instability or weakness in their consideration like it might be if the roles were reversed.

Maria catches your eye. Her frown morphs into a tight lipped line, like she wants to say something to you but can’t. She looks at Joel for a moment before focusing on her counterpart.

Tommy clears his throat to dispel some of the charged climate. “Alright. Thanks for lettin’ us know. You need any help gettin’ him back to the retainer, Cliff?”

The Council member shakes his head. “Appreciate you offering, but I think they got it handled. He’s pretty out of sorts at the moment. Don’t think it’ll be much trouble getting him back.”

Tommy nods an acknowledgment and turns to Maria. “I’ll see to it she gets back to the house.” He tips his head your direction. Maria gives a quick thanks and heads out behind the other Council member, giving a tepid, short goodbye.

The walk back to Joel’s house is a disjointed, hazy blur. You’re inside, although you don’t have a clear notion of when that happened. Joel helps you out of your jacket as you stare blankly ahead. You hear Tommy murmur something to Joel that sounds something like “she alright?”

“Hey.” Joel’s voice is grounding and firm. You blink a few times and lock eyes. He’s grasping your arms like he’s holding you up. He might be. You’re not entirely sure at the moment. Every ounce of energy has been zapped from you. It all feels like a waking nightmare.

Low words are exchanged, and Ellie leaves the three of you in the kitchen. You settle clumsily into one of the chairs at the table and rest your head in your propped up arms. Joel and Tommy continue a conversation you drift in and out of.

“Considering he’s goin’ back to a retaining cell, there’s not a whole lotta reason people are gonna find to assume he’s just fakin’ it all. Ain’t the most lavish of places ‘n all that. Council meeting space is a lot more comfortable than that, so ya can’t say he’d be in some big rush to get back there,” Tommy reasons.

“Piece of shit just wants everybody to sit with his bullshit statements from this mornin’. Sleep on it and get his lies all embedded in their heads,” Joel scoffs.

“I don’t doubt that,” Tommy agrees gently. “I’m just sayin’ that you gotta keep in mind how things look, is all.”

“Are they going to ask me about his testimony?” you rasp.

The two brothers turn to you in sync. Joel is the first to pull a chair up next to yours. Tommy opts to stand at the end of the table with one hand mindlessly picking at the tablecloth.

“What do you mean, honey?” Joel asks softly.

“He talked about stuff. Today. And if I’m supposed to… defend myself, or whatever, I just– I want to know what sort of questions they’re going to ask me,” you explain.

Tommy and Joel exchange a look. You lick your dry lips and force the words out.

“Am I– Do I have to talk about my–about my dad and brother?” you choke out in a whisper.

Tommy scratches the back of his neck and looks away in much the same way as others had done to Matthew this morning when the discomfiting outpouring was too much. “I, uh, I reckon they might wanna follow up on some of what he shared, yeah. To get your side of things.” His expression pinches into an uncomfortable frown.

Your face falls when he confirms what you already knew: you were going to have to speak publicly on the most horrendous times in your life, and for no reason other than Matthew had purposefully brought it into the fold. You wrap your arms around yourself and rest your forehead against the table as you begin to cry for the millionth time today.

A strong hand from either side rests on your shoulder and back. Joel rubs small circles while Tommy gives a supportive squeeze. The tears flow freely as your fate comes into the clear. You were never going to be able to pull off being more believable than Matthew. You were never going to be able to remain composed enough to make it through this. Matthew was going to win, and then he was going to kill you.

“We’re gonna figure somethin’ out. I promise you that,” Joel vows.

“I can have Maria come by later to get a better idea of what we’re workin’ with exactly come tomorrow mornin’,” Tommy adds.

Joel pulls you against his side and wraps his arms around you. “Do you trust me?”

You blubber that you do, but it’s a mess of tears and snot as you try to explain that you’ve underestimated Matthew too many times to not have learned your lesson by now.

“Not this time,” Joel disagrees. “We’re gonna stay a step ahead of him. No matter what.”

You let him herd you into the bedroom that he’s completely rearranged so you’re not reminded of what happened here not that long ago. You’re sure Matthew prides himself on leaving you with that particular mental scar, the sacred comfort of you and Joel’s shared bedroom now tainted with memories of one of the scariest moments of your life. Joel had offered to move you both into the guest bedroom across the hall, but you declined. It felt like giving in, giving Matthew another win.

Now you aren’t so sure it really matters.

You settle into the cold bed, trying your best to focus on the scent of Joel on the sheets, and let your eyes flutter shut when he presses small kisses to your temple before going back downstairs to talk with Tommy.

The mellow sunlight filtering through the window suggests you slept longer than intended. Your muscles are sore. Your movements are stiff. How long had you been asleep? The whole hearing process must’ve truly exhausted you. Surely Joel would’ve woken you up if Maria had already arrived.

The smell of eggs wafting up the stairs leads you to the curious sight of breakfast on the table. Panic sets in once you register that you not only slept through the afternoon and the entire night, but you’d also missed Maria’s visit and advice. You hadn’t prepped at all. Joel assures you he’s got it covered and asks you to just take a breath and eat something.

You aren’t sure you can eat, but he coaxes you into some bites. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept. He promises you that he talked with Tommy and Maria and feels confident he can lead you in the right direction. You have no choice but to trust him. Ellie stays home today at Joel’s request. You ask how he managed that given how passionate she was yesterday. He shrugs and gives a noncommittal answer. You don’t press him. In all truth, you’re grateful that she won’t be present for today’s proceedings.

Prying eyes follow your every step to the Council building on Main Street. You refuse to meet any of them. You’re ushered by a standoffish attendant into the same small room where you sat for break yesterday and wait to be called into the main room.

You mention to Joel how odd the attendant was acting. He agrees but doesn’t seem all that surprised. Just as you’re getting the sense that Joel isn’t saying everything on his mind, the same Council member from yesterday enters the room.

“Cliff,” Joel greets curtly.

Cliff nods back in lieu of social niceties. “So it seems that Matthew was going through something more than we realized. We have reason to believe that, uh, that he has left Jackson indefinitely.”

Your shock propels you out of your seat. “What?!”

Joel stands quickly beside you and echoes your disbelief. “Who the hell let him leave?!” he thunders.

Cliff puts his hands up, palm side out, as if to allay the sudden uproar. “We’re gathering information as quickly as we can. We were alerted just this morning about all of this.”

“He tried to fuckin’ MURDER HER, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know where he is?!” Joel bellows at a slowly cowering Cliff.

“We are doing everything within our power to sort this out, and I assure you that you aren’t the only one who is invested in getting to the bottom of this!” Cliff asserts with a put-on bravado.

“How do you know he left? Who let him past the gates? Who saw him?” Joel demands, rounding on Cliff.

“I’m not able to answer every single question you have, Joel,” he sputters. “I already told you this is a fast developing situation, and we’ve only just started piecing things together. It’s best if everyone just keeps a level head, alright?”

Joel doesn’t look much satisfied with Cliff’s offerings. “Keep a level head? KEEP A LEVEL HEAD?”

“Joel!” Maria barks through the door as she rushes in and shuts it behind her. “Enough! You’re so loud I can hear you down the hall!”

“What kinda establishment you got here, huh? Fuckin’ would be murderers just waltzin’ outta their cells as they please and nobody is any the wiser?” he spits.

You wrap a hand around Joel’s arm, and it thankfully seems to calm him a little.

“Joel, she just brought the letter to us a few hours ago. We’re trying to keep a hold of the situation, and you going off isn’t helping,” she chides.

“What letter? Who?” you choke out. You cling to Joel’s arm to steady yourself as the realization that Matthew has escaped starts to sink in.

Maria’s face softens as she turns to you. “Rachel. Rachel Harmon. She discovered a letter on their kitchen table early this morning. It was addressed to her with a portion written to the Council.

“The dipshit stupid enough to get knocked up by that psychopath?” Joel snips.

You give his arm a gentle squeeze. He glances down at you. You give a small shake of your head. Not now. He understands and chews the inside of his cheek against his molars.

Maria shuts her eyes and sighs, exercising some self-control in the charge of Joel’s anger. “His pregnant partner, yes,” she firmly corrects. Her eyes shift back to you. “I know it has been a difficult process, but if you could look at the letter and possibly verify whether it is his handwriting…”

“You manage to fuck up the VERY SIMPLE TASK of not letting a fuckin’ wannabe murderer escape, and now you’re askin’ his latest victim to help you? I don’t fuckin’ think so!” Joel thunders. He puts himself between you and the others.

“With all due respect, Joel, that’s not your decision to make,” Maria snips back in the same level tone as before.

“I’ll look at it,” you agree. Everyone turns to look at you as you stand there, shaking and trying to hold it together. “I can tell you if it’s his or not.”

“No. The reason Rachel can’t verify his handwriting — the fuckin’ father of her baby — is because Rachel doesn’t fuckin’ know him. Nobody does in the entire godforsaken place,” he finishes with a scowl thrown towards Maria and Cliff. “She knows him better than anybody – and she’s been tryna tell y’all the truth about him – but y’all wanna play this pretend court of law bullshit where there’s supposedly some kinda due process. As if she didn’t end up black and blue from that prick. Y’all seemed to forget all about that with his little waterworks yesterday, huh?”

Cliff looks appropriately chastised. Maria fixes Joel with a stern frown. “If you’re done showing your ass, we have work to do.”

You tug at Joel to get his attention. His angry face meets yours and deciphers the resignation written into every frown and troubled wrinkle.

He huffs and glares at Cliff and Maria. “Bring the letter.”

Cliff volunteers himself to fetch the letter, probably in an effort to excuse himself from Joel’s wrath. Maria holds steady and suggests everyone take a seat and take a breather. You slump into the chair. Your adrenaline is shot. Your mind feels like all the crucial cogs have hit a rut and won’t turn the gears. All the backup machinery of your mind is trying to keep up with things well beyond its capacity. When Cliff returns with the letter, it takes a moment to focus on the document placed before you. Your eyes adjust to read its contents.

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕,

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠" 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜.

𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚠��𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

Your stomach bottoms out as you scan the lines of text. “That’s his writing,” you confirm with a feeble shake of your head. You can’t understand how he escaped or why. It didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t like him. Your tongue feels thick and heavy as you try to find the words to express these concerns.

“Doesn’t explain how he managed to escape,” Joel clips.

“We believe his, uh, emotional difficulties yesterday were enough of a distraction to the attendants that they didn’t notice him taking the key off them,” Cliff explains with a notable pink flush on his cheeks.

“So you got swindled, and now a murderer is on the loose?” Joel sneers.

“Joel, if you can’t keep it civil, then I’m going to have to ask Tommy to see you out of here,” Maria warns.

“You want to keep things civil, but you can’t even keep one asshole in a cell?” he bites back. “You’re tellin’ me nobody noticed he was gone in the middle of the night? How in the fuck did that happen, huh? Somebody sleepin’ on the job?”

Cliff adjusts in his seat and sits a little taller. The rosy flush morphs into a deep red and spreads down his neck. “He, uh, he arranged his bedding to look like—”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Joel snorts in disbelief. “He bundled up some blankets to look like a body? Like in the fuckin’ movies? And you fell for it?”

Cliff clears his throat and can’t quite meet you or Joel’s eye. Maria huffs, clearly exasperated by Joel’s condescending ire.

“Sounds real fuckin’ convenient, doesn’t it? That he managed all this by himself?” Joel challenges in a low, dangerous voice.

“Watch it, Joel,” Maria cautions. “If you’re suggesting there’s some sort of foul play or outside help, you’re dead wrong, and I’d be careful going around making such bold, suggestive claims.”

Joel laughs without a trace of amusement and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. Maria’s jaw clenches tight with annoyance. Joel had told you before how his and Maria’s relationship was rocky at best, and this entire situation was just oxygen to a flame. You respected Maria greatly, but it felt good to have Joel stick up for you so fiercely.

“We’re done here. Until y’all get your shit together, don’t come botherin’ her. I’m walkin’ her home, and I’m gettin’ a rifle from the patrol station. You have my word if that asshole shows up, I’m shootin’ him dead on the spot.” Joel’s nostrils flare, hands slamming onto the table as he abruptly stands.

Much to your surprise, neither Cliff nor Maria take him to task on any of it.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go home,” Joel says softly to you, extending his hand for you to take.

True to his word, Joel obtained a firearm and made no attempt to downplay his intent to use it if necessary. He kept by your side, gun ready at all times, as the days pressed on. Tommy stopped by a few times a day, sometimes with updates and sometimes with nothing. By the time day three rolled around, you hadn’t learned anything that made sense of the ordeal.

Matthew had managed to steal his cell key from an attendant, leave his cell with a decoy blanket body in place, get into his and Rachel’s house to write and leave the letter, sneak into reserves and stables to gather up supplies and a horse, and, perhaps most daring of all, getting past the main gates. All without being seen or caught.

It wasn’t that he was incapable of such deceit. It’s that he left when he was already winning. That’s what bothered you the most. He was winning, and Matthew would never forfeit an opportunity to get the best of you and put you in your place. When you’d mentioned this to Joel and even Tommy, neither seemed too concerned with this crucial piece of the puzzle. Joel himself had said that you knew Matthew better than anybody, and it was starting to wear on you that even he wasn’t taking your concerns seriously. He insisted you just needed to keep a low profile and rest. Your pure exhaustion meant you didn’t put up much of a fight to his insistence.

Rachel gave her account to the Council regarding her and Matthew’s previous discussions around leaving Jackson. She tearfully recounted the few times he had spoken to her about “needing to get out of town in a hurry,” but she “never thought he meant like this.” You believed he’d had these talks with her, but not in the context of starting a new life somewhere else. You knew with every fiber of your being that he had spoken about leaving Jackson in a rush in reference to murdering you and either taking himself out with you or fleeing before facing the consequences, whichever came to be the right choice at the time.

It was coming up on five days since Matthew left. You provided your testimony yet again to the Council but didn’t share anything you hadn’t already. It was just under 15 minutes when they’d called everyone back into the room to announce you were considered absolved of any potential wrongdoings as it was impossible to confidently confirm which party had committed what actions. You were given a stern warning that any “untoward behavior” would result in immediate cause for dismissal from Jackson. You agreed to the terms, knowing that you had never been and never would be a problem.

Despite your partial exoneration, it felt like a hollow victory. You still fret to Joel about when Matthew returns and in what capacity. You’re worrying yourself sick with the looming fear of his return. If he was able to evade watchful eyes and escape, he was more than capable of getting back inside the settlement and doing god knows what. What if he didn’t find anything out there? What if he decides to come back and stay? What if he changes his mind and insists that you should be made to leave Jackson instead of him?

You sleep to get away from reality, but your dreams are plagued with nightmares of Matthew above you, choking the life out of you. You can hardly eat. Joel seems so calm somehow. You don’t know how he manages it. It might just be a show of strength to make you feel safer, but all it’s done is make you feel more frustrated. Why doesn’t he seem concerned? Why doesn’t he have the same energy about “staying one step ahead of Matthew” that was so fiery just a short time ago? A week out from your gift of grace from Council, you can’t take it any longer. Matthew has been gone for almost two weeks, and you want to tear your hair out.

“Why don’t you listen to me?” you whisper. Talking any louder guarantees you will break into a fit of tears. You’re afraid. You’re sleep deprived despite sleeping almost constantly. You’re hurt that Joel seems so detached and unbothered from the situation.

Joel’s head snaps up from his task. He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean, honey?” He sets his things aside and moves towards you.

You take a step away and hug yourself, shaking your head. “I-I keep telling you that something isn’t right, but you don’t seem bothered at all. I feel—I feel so alone, Joel.” So much for not crying. The hot pinch in your eyes spills over as you bury your head in your hands.

Joel is quick to snatch you up into a tight embrace. “No, baby. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

He rocks you side to side and shushes you. You can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t on the same page as you. A sickening thought tears through your mind, one you hadn’t felt since that day when Matthew gave his testimony.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Are you… Do you want me to go?” Your eyes go wide in dismay. Of course. You’ve been so distracted with everything going on that you didn’t even stop to consider the obvious: Joel wants out. This is too much for him. Too much for Ellie. This isn’t what he signed up for, playing personal bodyguard to you 24/7. He wants his life back. You can’t even blame him. Why would he choose this? Why would he choose you?

You’ve already accepted it before Joel can reply. You feel completely numb. Matthew was right. All those times he tried to tell you that no one would want you, and you decided to believe otherwise.

“What?” Joel scoffs. “What the hell? No, I don’t want you to leave! What the hell are you— Why on earth would you—” He shakes his head like he’s offended you’d even suggest such a thing. He’s gobsmacked into silence as he searches your face for some sort of clarity.

“But you—you’ve been so distant with all this Matthew stuff. A-And I just, I know it’s too much–I’m too much, and—” You ramble and try to control the flood of tears cascading down your face and neck.

“No. No, honey,” he says flatly. He shakes his head again like he can’t understand how you’d come to that conclusion. He sits you on the couch and pushes himself between your legs. He cradles your face so that you’re eye to eye with each other.

“I’m in love with you,” he states with conviction. Not a hint of reluctance or hesitation is in his voice. You can’t understand it.

“What?” you choke.

“I said I’m in love with you. I love you. It scares the hell outta me, but I do. I love you. I don’t want you to leave, not ever,” he continues. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead to yours.

“You? You love me?” you repeat.

He nods firmly a few times and pulls back to look at you. “Yeah. I do. I really, really do.”

“I–Joel—” you break. “I-I love you, too, Joel. I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so much time now. It’s been so much time, Joel. I never said it. I thought I was going to die before I could tell you—thought he was going to kill me before I could—”

Joel cuts you off with a deep, biting kiss. Your breath comes ragged and frantic with the reciprocal admission and overwrought nerves. You can’t stop crying, and you’re not even sure you know why you’re crying or what you’re crying about at this point. Everything has come to a bottleneck, and there’s no stopping the outpouring deluge.

Joel draws back for a moment to catch his breath. He considers you with a contemplative gaze for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied that I wasn’t pickin’ up on how alone I was makin’ you feel.”

You swallow and ask a question you aren’t sure you want the answer to. “What’s b-been keeping your attention?”

Joel’s lips form a thin line. He holds your searching eye and finally nods. “I haven’t been honest with you. Been waitin’ until it was the right time. I guess now is the right time.”

Your mouth turns down at the vague explanation. “Joel, I don’t know what—”

“Tonight,” he interrupts. He sounds resolute, like he’s finally decided on something. “Tonight I’m gonna show you. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to sleep after all of that, but you try anyway.

You’re quiet as the horse carries you and Joel through the dense wooded areas outside the settlement. You’d exited through the cover of a passage at the edge of the barrier you didn’t even know existed, but you didn’t ask questions. You just sat quietly and waited to see what Joel was going to show you, what the answer to all your questions was going to be.

The moonlight slipped through the branches, the dapple of a dull glow lighting the path forward, wherever that may be. You hug close against Joel and rest your head on his shoulder as the horse meanders further, past the dam, past the typical patrol points. You hold on tighter at his instruction when he turns off into a steep, obscured ravine. It levels off at the bottom, and you’re beginning to wonder just how far into the outlands this clandestine destination is. Joel slows the horse to an ambling gait and veers into an overgrown pocket of woods.

“This is it,” he announces calmly as he dismounts. He assists you off the horse, and guides it into a concealed alcove already housing three other horses. The only indication that this is even frequented by travelers is a dug-out firepit some several yards away. You start to ask where you’re going now when he points out the telltale edge and turn of a man made structure in the compact stretch of greenery and woodlands. You’re almost a stone’s throw from the camouflaged house before you recognize it, hidden in the distance to anyone not already familiar. He holds firm onto your hand as if you’re one surprise away from being scared off completely. He guides you through the entrance of the house after brushing aside well-placed bits of facade and coverings.

You have a million and one questions, and a singular unknown has been halfway answered when your eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior. Two of the horses must belong to Tommy and Natalie’s father, John, who each sit on aging furniture in what you think was once a sort of living space. They offer a quick greeting, one that you’re too flummoxed to return. They don’t seem surprised at your unannounced arrival. You realize Joel must’ve already looped them in. You know it’s all in due time, but it’s difficult to not grow impatient and nervous as to when exactly all your questions will be answered.

“I’ll holler if we need anythin’,” Joel informs the pair before grabbing a flashlight from a crooked end table and leading you down a dark hallway to the left. He stops in the middle of it, checks over his shoulder that you’re out of earshot, and runs his eyes lazily over your features. “You doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess I’m alright. Just sort of feel, I dunno–” You aren’t sure why you’re whispering, but it feels appropriate for conversation in the mysterious, dark hallway of the secret, hidden house. “I trust you – I do – but I’m just getting more and more nervous with every—”

Joel grazes his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t need to feel nervous, pretty girl. Not anymore. Never again. I told you I got you, and I do. So now I’m gonna show you, okay? Can you let me do that? Just hold on for a little bit longer for me?”

You swallow down your fear and concede to his plea. “Yes. Okay. I can. I mean, I will.” A deep, grounding breath, and then, “ I’m ready. I trust you.”

Joel shoots you a lopsided grin. “There’s my girl. Pretty thing.” He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you chase his lips when he draws back. “Plenty of time for that soon enough.”

He walks you to the end of the hallway and stops short of the solid paneled wall. He runs his hand down the edge of the decorative molding, stopping on some unseen point and pressing into it until a soft click sound is heard on the other side of the wall. “Hold onto my shoulder on the way down, okay? Don’t want you fallin’.” He nudges the bottom of the wall, and the entirety of it swings forward, revealing a small opening and staircase.

“Ready?”

Your eyes go a little wide, jaw a little slack, but you just nod and grab onto his jacket as you both descend into the murky space. You duck your head a few times whenever Joel does. He’s clearly been here many, many times to be so well-acquainted with every low hanging beam and jutted bit of framing. You reach the bottom and pause again. He raises a hand to the side, flicking some other out of sight thing, and a camping lantern washes light over the room.

The damp air fits the visual of the area, but it lacks the musk of an unused space. Evidence of human movement and activity are visible here and there despite it being mostly bare. “Hidden basement? Was it always here? This has always been here, or–?”

“Yeah. Came up on it by surprise a long time ago now. The work of some doomsdayer, probably. Took us a long time to find it. Got real good use out of it lately, too.”

You scan the room for some indication of what he could mean. A long folding table lines one wall, filled with random supplies and curiosities. Odd pieces of furniture are scattered here and there. A closed door leading to who knows what. Rolled work blankets, tarps, and crates lie in organized piles.

“Is it some secret outpost or something?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel fiddles with your hand in his. Buying himself some time before–

“Why’d you bring me down here?”

He continues across the space with you and hesitates outside the closed door near the back of the basement. He waits until you meet his gaze before saying anything. “Listen to me good now. We’re gonna go in there, and I need you to promise me if you need to get outta there you’ll say somethin’. No judgment from anybody if you do, alright?” His stare could bore holes into your head with the intensity of it.

“O-Okay,” you agree. You don’t know what’s inside that would potentially be too much for you, but you know he wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t think you needed the preemptive permission of an out. He nods, searches your face with an inscrutable look, and leans down into a soft kiss. He slots his mouth against yours in a slow rhythm, siphoning the jittery anticipation from you with each pass and pull of his tongue against yours. Your weight slowly gives way to his clutch, and you give and give and give your anxieties over until you feel significantly calmer.

He pulls away, appears content with your pacified demeanor, and rests his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve got you, honey. Just remember that.”

He eases the door open, pushing it wide so you can see inside without having to enter. There’s already a few sources of light, but Joel flips something that powers a long row of bulbs. Matthew’s panicked eyes lock onto yours, a frenzied recognition taking over, and he strains against the rope bandings that hold him in place. He’s bound to a chair in much the same way as the first time Joel tied him up during your first time together. His muffled pleas and screams aren’t entirely intelligible past the wad of fabric shoved in his mouth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight of him, a little roughed up but mostly just looking terrified.

“This hopefully clears up why I wasn’t seemin’ too concerned with whether or not he was comin’ back to Jackson,” he supplies quietly.

“You-You mean…” You glance up at him, dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

He nods his head and watches you carefully, searching for some sort of upset or anger or disgust at seeing your ex-husband being held captive and worse for wear.

“But that day at the meeting! You were-You were so upset! You… was it all…..” You struggle to verbalize a logical train of thought. Joel had been pretending to be just as in the dark as you actually had been all this time. An apologetic frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“After that first day of the hearing, I knew we couldn’t count on those people to do the right thing. I told you I was gonna protect you. Keep you safe. I already failed you once. I wasn’t gonna fail you again.” He fixes you with a soft, remorseful look.

“Joel,” you choke. “You-You went and–after it— but, how?”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself like he’s been waiting to finally tell you the truth, to impart this secret he’s been keeping from you for your own good. “He’s pissed off enough of the guys in Jackson that finding a few helping hands wasn’t too grand of a task,” comes his simple explanation. He glances over to Matthew with a look of pure disdain. “Had a few that owed me a major favor. Knocked his dumb ass out and took him out the back. Tommy already took the supplies, and I met him with the horse at the back passage. John lugged him on the horse here.”

You blink slowly, trying to absorb all this new information and connect it to what you already knew - or thought you already knew. You’re in such a state of shock that you don’t catch Matthew’s increasingly desperate, stifled calls for help. Joel rolls his eyes and shuts the door so the conversation can proceed in peace.

“But the letter,” you sputter. “How?”

Joel looks at the ground and knocks the toe of his boot against it a few times before looking back at you. “Might be for the best if we don’t get into that.”

“No, Joel,” you say with a tremble. “I want to know. I deserve to know.”

He shakes his head in agreement and reaches out for your hand, which you readily place in his. He hesitates a few times before speaking. “I- I don’t want you to be- I don’t want you to be afraid of me, honey.” His head lists back and forth, his eyes locked on where your hands are clasped together. “Done some bad things in my life. Not proud of all of it, but not really too sorry for it, either. I just… don’t want you thinkin’ I’m somebody you gotta be afraid of.”

With what seems to be a great amount of effort, he looks at you again. You hold his stare, a steady and unconditional hope and confidence meeting his look of insecurity. “I trust you,” you remind him firmly. You gather his hands together in yours and press them against your heart. “I trust you more than anything. I trust you with my life. I’m not afraid of you.”

He wavers for a moment before steeling himself. “I threatened to hurt Rachel and the baby. That’s how I got him to write that letter,” he admits. “Had to get him to talk, and quick, and I knew threatenin’ that would get him to write whatever I told him to.”

Your brow pinches together in an unasked question: how could you leverage something against him that he doesn’t actually care about?

“Yeah, it’s a little more’n what it sounds like. I–” he pauses for a beat before starting again, once more sounding uncertain of himself “–I don’t want you to see me different, when I tell you. Don’t think I could take you feelin’ scared of me or scared that I’d do anything to you – ever.”

You could understand his reluctance to bare these dark parts of himself. You’d spent most of your life in the long shadow of fear, the torrents of violence delivered by the mouths and hands of men you should’ve been able to trust. It was all too predictable that Joel would just become another perpetrator in the long line that existed before him, fitting into the established pattern.

Except Joel wasn’t like anyone you’d ever known, was unlike any man you’d shared space with. He jumped the circuit that had been assigned to you - the circular loop of pain and fear - and became the break in the sequence. The disruptor of the inevitable. The arm that links to yours instead of bending it backward until compliance is yielded. Joel had decided that the cycle of your suffering stopped here, and god help anyone who got in his way.

“Scared? Of you? Joel, the only thing that scares me is whether or not I can ever be for you what you’ve been for me.” The words slip out gently, like they aren’t all sharp edges patched together with threads of hope. He moves to cut the conversation from its trajectory, but you press on before he can stop your moment of timid confession. “I don’t want pieces of you, Joel. I want it all. Just like you say you want all of me. So– I’m asking you to-to trust me with the truth, the way I trust you with the truth.” You level a firm, probing gaze and watch as his reservations abate.

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I-I know what him being here– I know what it means.” You straighten taller, pushing and pressing yourself to show the faith you have in yourself and in Joel - in the two of you. “I know that he’s– I know he’s not going to-to live. I know he’s not going to survive this. He’s not going to walk out of here.”

“That ain’t up to anyone but you,” he corrects. Before you can ask what he could possibly mean, he clarifies. “Told ‘em it wasn’t anybody’s decision ‘bout what happens to him but yours. Weren’t too happy with me about it. Wanted to kill him the first night – especially John – but ain’t nothin’ gonna happen that you don’t want to happen.”

The weight of his words settles slowly, a viscid cloud that ripples and sweeps through you. Matthew’s far off, muted cries for help are the only sound other than the pounding pulse in your ears. He took your life and bent it to his will, and now he was at your mercy. His fate lies in the palm of your hand because Joel stopped others from taking that decision from you. Because Matthew had hurt you more than anyone. Because Matthew had taken the most from you, wanted to take everything from you, it should be you to decide what happens.

Because Joel wanted to give you something you’d never had before: the power to dictate your life.

Your lip quivers with the comprehension of it, the magnitude of the gift he’d gently laid at your feet, as if it weren’t the most profound gesture anyone had ever bestowed you. Your lungs pull for the inhale that will balloon your chest against the constricting cage of your ribs. You have to get it together. You have to let him know he can tell you anything, can tell you everything, all without the fear that it will be too much and be the reason you walk away.

“Because you love me.” It’s not a question. It’s an answer. An explanation of why this man in front of you would do all of this.

“Because I love you,” he echoes. His lips press into a tight line. Consideration. Resolution. And then–

“I said I would—” He falters again, searching your face for the fear he so dreads will take hold and fester in you, the fear of what he is capable of, even if it’s done with the intent to shield you from harm. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I told him I’d drag her here, blow her brains out, and rip his kid from her stomach. Make him hold it until it didn’t move anymore. Kill off the future of him if he didn’t write what I told him to.”

You gulp back a gasp. “A-And would you have…? You would’ve done that?”

“Didn’t need to,” he replies instantly, skirting the question.

You press his hand firmer against your chest. “Would you have done that, Joel?”

“Yeah,” he finally admits. “If it meant gettin’ Matthew away from you, if it meant protectin’ you, then yeah, I would’ve.”

You gently nod, swallowing down the ebbing jolt of his confession, and bring his palms against your cheeks. You pivot to kiss them each in turn before looking up at him. “These hands are for– they’re for loving me. And protecting me.” You tilt towards him to emphasize your belief. His shoulders sag with relief, your sanction of his ill deeds loosening the tight nieve of guilt around him.

“And I know whatever happens in there–” an aside glance back at the door and back to Joel “–it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, because you’re with me.”

He gives you a pointed nod and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I got you. I’ve always got you from here on out. I need you to understand, honey.”

“I do. I understand.”

“Then let’s get to it, sweet girl.”

With that, he opens the door again and drags in a heavy blanket from the other side of the basement. The distinct clink and clatter of metal can be heard even through the thick fabric. He motions for you to follow him into the room and close the door. You push it shut and watch as he hauls a cushioned chair from the corner of Matthew’s room and sets it up a few feet away from him, dead center.

Matthew’s eyes dart wildly between the two of you. You jump at the unexpected slap Joel lands against Matthew’s head. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” Matthew quiets down instantly and stills. “I’m gonna tell you this one time: do not speak unless spoken to. You will listen to her. You will answer whatever question she has. You will not lie to her. If you lie to her or start gettin’ outta line, I will gladly set you straight.”

He rips the fabric gag from Matthew’s mouth and throws it on the floor. His breathing is audible and strained without the obstruction. Joel wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you down onto his lap, sitting in the armchair he’d arranged directly across from Matthew.

He leans forward, hugging you against him. I’m here. You’re not alone. Take the power you should’ve always had. Get answers to the questions you deserve to have answered. His hands splay wide across your chest and belly, an anchor to him. He runs his nose along your neck and hairline, presses his lips gently against your ear. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

Matthew has been sitting silently as instructed, waiting on your permission to engage. Something turbulent and mirthful stirs in your gut. You can feel it spreading through you like a beast intent on carnage. It takes a few moments to recognize the feeling for what it is: power. The expression “drunk on power” finally made sense. The feeling of confidence, strength, and command makes your head buzz. It occurs to you that while this is your first time wielding such authority, it is likely Matthew’s first time experiencing the other side of things, not having any control over what’s going to happen next.

“How do you feel?”

Your question catches them both off guard, although Joel doesn’t show his surprise other than tensing for a split second underneath you. Matthew’s eyes squeeze shut, his frown deepening as he shakes his head side to side. He takes your line of questioning as a sign of possible mercy – all that understanding and patience you’ve been leached of your entire life.

“I’m fucking scared!” he croaks. His voice sounds weak and tired. “Every time they come down here I don’t know if it’s gonna be the time they kill me! Please just tell them to let me go! I’ll fucking go, I will! You’ll never see me again, I swear it.” He leans as far forward in his chair as he can manage, his desperation for your leniency coming off him in spates.

“What about Rachel? And the baby?”

Again, they both show their surprise at your choice of question. Matthew’s face flashes an answer before he can speak: what about them? Of course. Why should he care about the woman he’d impregnated out of spite? She was nothing more than collateral in this entire thing. His rooted seed in her belly nothing more than a guarantee of his lineage, a point of ego.

He works his expression into more of the calculated veneer he’s perfected over the years. “I-If you would– Listen, of course I care about them both, of course I want to take care of them both—”

You don’t bother listening to the rest. His words slacken to a halt as you turn your head towards Joel. “He’s lying to me, and you told him not to,” you say softly. Something eager and electric sparks in his eyes. “Yeah, I think he is, baby. I don’t like that one bit. What do you think?”

Matthew stutters but keeps himself from speaking, rightfully afraid of Joel’s correction.

You rest your hands atop his where he cradles you against him. “Do you remember in the cabin when you told me not to feel bad when bad people get what they deserve?”

He holds back a smirk. “I do.”

“Do you remember what I told you I liked seeing and wanted to see again?”

He doesn’t downplay the depraved grin spreading across his face. “I think I do, but I sure would love if you reminded me anyway.”

You turn to face Matthew and swallow down the delight at his anxious urgency to understand what is happening. Your expression is cold, unfeeling. “I liked it when you cried, Matthew, and I like it when Joel makes you cry—” you turn to Joel again, whose face has darkened and acidified, the drip of a lethal edge pooling at the verge “—so, I want you to do it again. I want you to make him cry, Joel. Make him cry for me.”

His smile is infectious. “Thought you’d never ask.” When he tilts you closer to his face and kisses you gently, it’s your turn to be surprised. “I love you.” A tender reminder, something free in the way he says it now that it’s already been said before. Like he wants to say it as many times as he can. Like you’ll understand how much he means it the more you hear him say it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

You both ignore Matthew’s break in protocol as he rushes to explain his sincerity. Joel is in no hurry, knowing that his leisure only works Matthew into more of a frenzy. He walks calmly to the blanket he’d brought in earlier, unwraps it, and studies the contents for a moment. Opting to forgo anything in the selection, he saunters over to an ever distraught Matthew. The glint of a small blade from Joel’s back pocket catches the light.

“NO NO NO,” Matthew starts chanting, an octave higher reached with every utterance.

You flinch when Joel swings his arm up, barely stopping the momentum of it in enough time for the sharp edge of the blade to tamp directly against Matthew’s cheek. The room is quiet again. A slip of crimson trickles between the bulge of his flesh and the blade. His jaw trembles with the effort of keeping still so as to not deepen the cut.

“The only reason you ain’t laid out and bein’ beat to death right now is because of her, so I suggest you count your fuckin’ lucky stars that she’s the one callin’ the shots,” Joel growls. His fingertips are white from where he grips the hilt of the blade so tight you can practically see the itch to drive it further in.

Matthew’s eyes lock onto your face. Like the rabbit whose leg has been snapped in steel teeth, he feels the walls closing in around him. Something about your presence makes this all the more real somehow, you think. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling uncertain if you only liked the idea of Matthew suffering and might not be fit to actually witness it. As if sensing your thoughts, Joel flicks the blade closed and returns it to his pocket.

“Now listen real close,” he drawls. Matthew’s face pouches out in little pockets of flesh between Joel’s stretched fingers where they grip his skull. The dig of Joel’s thumb into the new sliced divide of flesh triggers a string of pained gasps. “My girl wants to see you cry, so you’re gonna give her some tears. If ya can’t squeeze ‘em out during some heartfelt somethin’ or other, I’ll just hafta think of somethin’ to motivate ya.”

Joel watches you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to take the lead when you’re ready. He senses your uncertainty at commanding the situation just yet and continues. A fractured cry pierces the air as Joel wedges his finger deeper into the cut. “Lucky for me, I’m feelin’ real creative today.”

Matthew shakes his head, although you’re not entirely sure which part of it he disagrees with. Joel doesn’t seem to notice or care and continues on. “So how about you start bein’ honest and start from day one. I wanna hear all the fuckin’ mistakes you made and all the shit you took for granted. And god help you if ya start lyin’ or fakin’ some crocodile tears.”

You find Matthew’s eyes again, settled with a defeated acceptance, and he looks scared enough that you think he might actually just tell the truth for once.

“W-When we met– the first time we met–” he sputters. He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s closing himself off from his current predicament, as if he can separate himself from the lies he’s told and his obligation to now recount the story in truth rather than through his lens of manipulation. “When I saw you, I just– I did think they were raiders. Your dad and brother. I did. But. I just thought– I knew I could catch them off guard and take them both out. I just–”

His eyes slip towards Joel, a mistake warranting censure. Joel grips his head in one hand and forces his focus towards you again. “You’re tellin’ her, not me. So keep your eyes on her when you’re talkin’.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to kill you, too, or see if maybe you could be useful to me in some way,” Matthew confesses in a bungled rush of words.

“What do you mean?” You swallow down a sick feeling and aren’t sure you want to know the answer. He’d been a liar since the very beginning, and it took you so long to see it. You’d been such a fool for so fucking long. Knowing the extent and depth of the deception only magnified the hurt stemming from this level of betrayal.

“He means he kept you around for a warm, wet hole to stick his dick in,” Joel snarls.

“It wasn’t just that!” Matthew pleads. His eyes nearly slip back to Joel, but he recovers at the last moment. “I swear! If-If it was just that I could’ve just raped you! You were already so beat down it wouldn’t have been hard!”

Your stomach sinks hearing him share this alternate version of events, something so perverse from what you’d always remembered it as. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that, Matthew?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly. You hate showing weakness, especially under the circumstances.

At least Matthew looks appropriately chastened. “I’m telling you the truth! You said you wanted the truth, and I’m doing that! PLEASE!” His lip trembles with unfettered panic. “Maybe I wasn’t some-some knight in shining armor like I had you believe, b-but if I didn’t actually want you I would’ve just dumped you sooner! You have to see that I’m telling the truth about that! I did like having you around!”

“Having me around for what?” you bite back. The look on Matthew’s face says Joel’s assertion about being a “warm, wet hole” wasn’t very far off. “So that’s really it then? Just somebody to use? Somebody to make you feel good? To be, I mean– to be, what? Forever in your debt? Someone who-who was so fucking–” you cut yourself off before the heat pinching in your eyes forms tears. You shake your head side to side to collect your resolve. “Someone who was so fucking grateful to be out of their situation that they wouldn’t even notice all the fucked up parts of their new one?”

Your voice has grown shaky and hoarse at the effort of holding back tears. Matthew’s face twists into something akin to an indignant sneer. “You can’t blame me for every little thing, you know. You didn’t have to follow me around like a lost puppy. You were plenty grown enough if you wanted to—”

The sneer morphs into a grotesque contortion of pain as Joel drives his knife straight into Matthew’s lower thigh and twists. The shocked scream erupting from him is almost as jarring as the brutal drive of the knife springing up blood through his pants.

“Let’s try that again,” Joel drawls. He yanks the blade from Matthew’s leg. The claret drips fall like a quiet rain against a window, and it makes you feel unfamiliar with yourself when you register the sort of calm it brings. The gentle pitter patter of rain against the pane. The soft spill of Matthew’s blood onto his clothes and the floor. Something contentious and changing, something ready to cleanse away the before.

You sit up straight on the edge of the chair and grip the arms, looking on in revulsion and enthusiasm. The ire churning in your gut unfurls into licking flames of white heat. “A lost puppy you were more than happy to keep on a leash,” you warble back. The edges of your vision blur in equal, indignant fever. You shove yourself up from the chair, legs shaking with the surge of emotion you no longer attempt to subdue. Hot bands of wet splinter over your cheeks, a fit pair with the jagged breaths you pull in. “How many?” you snap. “How many women were you with after you told me you loved me and cared about me?”

Matthew’s mouth hangs open as if it awaits the strangled sob in his throat to dislodge itself soon. “PLEASE,” a gasp of a prayer for your mercy.

“Ain’t a quick learner, are ya?” Joel laughs to himself, calm as ever while he jabs the flat side of his hand directly against Matthew’s windpipe.

He sputters and coughs before quickly choking out an answer. “I don’t–cough–I don’t know. I have to think!” He tilts his head back, his eyes chasing an answer along the ceiling somewhere. “I-I’m think–jesus christ I don’t know. It has to be….” He trails off with a small rocking motion as he tallies his indiscretions. “I think thirteen,” he finally decides.

“Can you even name them?” you challenge. He makes it through the first handful quickly, but his memory is hazy from when he’d finally given in to the practice of unabashed, serial infidelity. With a promise of “help” from Joel to remember the rest, Matthew manages to focus and list off names that amount to a grand total of seventeen. Seventeen others he’d sought out and prioritized over you, over his commitments and promises to you.

“Why?”

Matthew squeezes his eyes shut tight again in anticipation of the response to his truthful but less than palatable answer.

“Because I could.”

He waits for the strike or the blade to come and peels his eyes open when it doesn’t. You can see Joel’s entire frame taut beside him, fuming at the gall and arrogance. You signal for Matthew to continue answering.

“I-I knew you’d never do anything about it. I knew you were too scared no one would want you. I knew you wouldn’t ever think of crossing me.”

A physical pain roosts in your chest. He was right. You never did anything about it - not until Natalie. Even after Natalie, you remained boxed in by your own fears of having to present yourself as enough for somebody else, as if anyone would want you. You’d never crossed Matthew because he was something rather than the terrifying prospect of nothing. But none of that mattered when he made you feel so alone anyway. It didn’t matter when he isolated you from even knowing yourself.

“Joel, can I have your knife please?”

His eyebrows shoot up, hands deftly placing the weapon in your open palm. “Gonna show me some techniques, baby?” His smile falls a little when he sees the fearfulness pulling at you again. “Or are you gonna let me join ya?”

“Together,” you agree.

Matthew thrashes in his bindings. Pitiful calls for you to just wait and hold on a minute fall on deaf ears. Joel kicks his chair to the ground and gives a hard push with his boot to position him onto his back. You motion towards the gag, which Joel shoves back into place. You brace yourself over Matthew’s feet and remove his shoes and socks. The sinew of his muscle flexes as he tries in vain to get away from you. Joel kneels behind you and steadies you in his arms. Matthew’s neck is craning, eyes bulged with horror, as he watches helplessly.

“Can you…..?” you trail off, not sure how to ask what you want to ask.

Joel follows your line of sight to the arch of Matthew’s foot. He holds you in the cradle of his arms, back to chest, as he places his hands over yours and the knife clutched there. “I’m right here. You go on ahead, sweet girl.”

He guides your hands forward, releasing his grasp on one side to hold Matthew’s foot in place, and you hold your breath as you both plunge the blade into the soft bend of Matthew’s foot. His screams become clearer through the bunched fabric in his mouth. Your stomach turns at the high pitched agony. Joel frames your body closer to his and talks close to your ear. “You’ve got it, honey. You’re doin’ it. I’m right here. You just keep goin’. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

The glittery silver disappears into reddening, wet flesh. Before you can pull it back out, Joel turns your wrist to the side and slows the extraction to a brutal crawl of blade against bone. Your hands shake as you enact the most ruthless savagery you’ve ever rendered. Joel’s hushed whispers of encouragement feel nauseating and thrilling. When the blade finally works its way out completely, you release a hard, shaky exhale.

Matthew is sobbing and writhing, his torment discernible even through his restraints and gag. Joel is unphased, passing praising kisses against your neck and cheeks. “Did so good. So proud of you.”

“I did okay?” you shake out.

He leans forward so you can see each other’s faces fully. “Did perfect, sweet girl. Perfect.”

You take a deep breath and center yourself. “Can you help me do it again?”

Joel grins, a sort of fervid vestige of a bedlamite, and says of course he’ll help you do it again and adds that he’ll help as many times as you want, baby. After you repeat the same measured, excruciating puncture on Matthew’s opposite foot, Joel asks a question you’ve only just decided the answer to.

“How many times you wanna cut him, honey?” He nuzzles against your earlobe, ever patient and calming. You know if you said you wanted to stop all of this and just walk away, he’d do just that. It makes you want to do it even more.

“I-I think that, um,” you mumble hesitantly. You try to block out Matthew’s heaving shrieks. “I think that some smaller ones for the rest. I think, maybe, fifteen smaller ones should make it–”

“–seventeen,” Joel finishes with a sinister chuckle. “Knew I had me a clever one. You’re really somethin’ else, sweet girl.”

You almost chicken out as you start to feel ill inflicting your twisted punishment, a slice into his flesh for each time he strayed from you. Joel as always helps you through it and steadies the blade to create fifteen superficial but sizable slits across the expanse of Matthew’s body from bottom to top. By the final cut, his eyes are far off and fixed on a spot above your heads. Joel jerks the chair upright and wrenches him out of his dissociative escape.

“Wake up, prick,” he snaps. A smack of his palm against the side of Matthew’s head gets his eyes focused on you again. Somehow there’s still the resonance of hatred in his gaze, a burning, putrid animosity held for you. The vitriol that comes into the centrifuge of his sight on you makes goosebumps ripple over your skin.

What feels like hours has in reality only been minutes. The encumbrance of violence has tired you quickly, and you briefly wonder how on earth people can maintain rabid, cruel tendencies for years, even decades. How they aren’t shriveled into a heap after 5 minutes of it. Then you remember, some people thrive on it. For some, it’s the only thing that swells their blood. People like Matthew who can’t seem to stray far from it without it coming back tenfold in its consuming appetite for destruction.

Your stomach burns and clenches. This is not the path you are meant to travel. There’s something decidedly wrong about it all, and you wish you could focus more on Matthew finally getting what’s been a long time coming. Instead, you avert your eyes from his, away from the splinters of torn tissue you’d carved into him.

“Hey.” Joel’s soft voice calls you from your freefall. You look over to find him already watching you, carefully pinpointing each minutia of emotion you can’t keep from breaking through. “C’mere.”

You readily shrink into his middle, his arms coming up to cage you into him. A few deep breaths of him block out the heavy, stale air of the room that’s whirling with the metallic daub of fresh blood. You let him guide you to sit in the lounge chair in his lap. You slump against his warm, broad body. Your head lolls to the side. You feel like you could just shut down right now and sleep for four months straight.

“Lemme help you relax.” The words barely register until the paired action of his hand skimming underneath your waistband catches you up immediately. Your body tenses as you turn your head to look at him. A soft, playful smile graces his lips. His fingertips dip down lower. Your lids flutter closed. Why did this feel so good in such a gruesome environment? How did this feel so germane after all the atrocities you’d just committed against another human? Nevertheless, Joel’s touch is a calming weight, settling over you in an instant.

“Gonna take these off, honey.” The scratch of denim and cotton against your legs is the beginning of your body fully switching over into corporeal awareness instead of the tumultuous sea of your mind. A whiny choke gets caught in your throat when you feel Joel’s hands against your bare skin.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. He spreads your legs across his lap, knees hooked over his thighs. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you wonder what Matthew’s face looks like.

Cold. Callous. His eyes keep flashing to the cradle of your thighs, spread and displayed.

“Messy baby,” Joel hums with a spark of humor. You aren’t sure what he means until you see the bright blood on his fingertips. “I like you messy,” he grunts, cupping your pussy against his palm.

“Joel,” you start to protest. As you stare at the menstrual blood glistening on your inner thighs, you realize the gut cramping and sick feeling you’ve been experiencing over the past hour could only partially be blamed on all the torment you’d been inflicting on Matthew.

“Knock it off,” he warns, sounding stern and resolute, when you squirm against him. You whimper and give in immediately. There’s not much fight left in you when it comes to Joel, not with all the pinpricking blooms of revenge taking to you so steadfastly. He groans against you as he sinks his fingers inside your entrance. His other hand has skirts underneath your top, toying lazily with your hardening buds.

“Gonna let him watch just like that first time,” he husks. His excitement is palpable against you, seeping into you like an osmotic, erogenous stimulant. You can feel him thick and ready beneath you. You lift yourself higher for his fingers to go deeper. He wordlessly complies and drinks in your feeble moan.

“God do you remember how fuckin’ smug he was that day? Now look at him.”

You heed his invitation and focus your hazy attention on Matthew. His eyes are glossy and bloodshot. His nose is dripping. There are patches of bright new blood and auburn, oxidizing blood all over his body. There’s a mixture of dried and fresh tears streaking his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Joel laughs under his breath. He hooks his fingers into you and moves his hand back and forth in quick motions, his palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your legs clamp together reflexively, but Joel pries them back open. You pin the weight of your shoulders against his chest, arching up from where you sit in his lap.

“Give it to me. Come on, baby. I can feel it. You’re right there–yeah, come on–there you go.”

A white heat scorches through your lower belly just as you reach your peak. You’re a writhing mess against Joel, who holds you loosely against his chest. A warm pool of wet gathers on his hand and fingers, bright red mixed in with your slick. Your chest feels hot and prickly as you catch your breath. Already so awash in your afterglow, you list to the side where Joel props you gently against the back of the chair.

The entire front of his pants are flecked in smudges of scarlet. He twists and turns his hand in the light, admiring the catch of it against the mixture of fluids. He smiles to himself, stands, and saunters to Matthew, whose eyes grow larger the closer Joel gets. Thick bright red blood coating his hand is all the more evident when he flexes it into a fist.

“Bet you thought so many times about seein’ blood pour outta her,” he muses in a dangerously calm voice. “Bet you wanted to be the one to make that happen. Crack her in the skull. Cut her open. Shoot her. Huh?”

Matthew is still as a statue. You find yourself hanging onto Joel’s every word as well, mesmerized and head crooked to the side to witness whatever was going to happen next. Dissatisfied with his question going unanswered, Joel takes his clean hand to grip around Matthew’s sweaty, grimy hair and yanks him to the side. “HM?”

“Yes!” Matthew coughs and begins to cry again. “Yes, I thought about it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Joel's entire broad frame is rigid with fury. “You wanted her blood so bad, you can have it.” The high pitched impact of Joel’s drenched hand across Matthew’s cheek practically echoes in the enclosed space. Fresh tears carve a clean line through the smear of your blood on his face. Joel slaps him again. Again and again and so many times you lose count. His face is covered in you.

Matthew had wanted you dead. He’d wanted your blood on his hands. He felt that’s what you owed him. Joel saw to it that the “debt” was repaid, just not how Matthew had envisioned it. It was a due reward for what he’d craved, and it sent a surge of righteous anger through every nerve ending in your body. Joel pauses for a moment to check in on you.

You bend your head slowly in approval. “More,” you whisper.

The million kilowatt, manic grin that brightens Joel’s entire face makes you smile shyly in return. There was something akin to pride there, something that made him swell with it just from you taking control of the situation and taking ownership in this act of vengeance. He loosens some of the restraints binding Matthew to the chair and frees his arms and legs.

With every ounce of energy he has available, Matthew lunges at you, an ineffective movement with his injuries slowing him down. It’s a stumble and a longshot. You’re not even sure why he attempted it. Joel doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. In fact, he looks like he was hoping Matthew might do something so incredibly stupid just to have a reason to further maim him. He snatches him up and sends him flying into the closest wall, crumpling into a heap. Just when Matthew manages to brace himself against the wall and sit upright, Joel’s boot slams square into his back, knocking the air from his lungs.

He twitches and gasps for breath that doesn’t come. He still hasn’t caught his breath when Joel finishes stripping him bare, a constellation of slices and gashes and bruises across his body. Joel kicks him again into the middle of the room, pins him to the floor with a knee between the shoulders. The deft movement of his fingers is mesmerizing as they work over the freshly tied knots around Matthew’s elbows and wrists. Alleviation doesn’t come when Joel stands, fully clothed with a hard foot planted into Matthew’s naked back. Something about this exhibition sends a wave of heat between your thighs.

“If you try that shit again, I won’t be as patient. You understand?”

“Yes,” Matthew sputters against the ground.

“Now, keep your arms out in front of you just like that, and if I so much as see ‘em twitch I will get to flayin’ you with a blunt knife, startin’ from your fingertips.”

Matthew makes a noise that you think can only convey a distraught understanding. You inspect the loops and knots across his body, never truly trusting that it’s enough to keep him contained. Before you work yourself up with worry, Joel walks past you to the pile of tools, plucks one of them up, and returns to your side with it. A flash of light catches against the head of a hammer.

“Let’s show this bastard what puttin’ his hands ‘round your neck gets him.”

Just like he had with the knife, Joel braces himself against you and positions you over Matthew’s outstretched hands, cupping the handle of the tool in your grasp. A visible tremor shakes Matthew’s entire body, but he doesn’t dare move his arms despite knowing what’s coming. To his credit, he doesn’t scream too loud with the first several blows of the metal tool against the delicate bones in his fingers. They bend in unnatural contours after each strike, bits of stark white peeking through gnarled, ripped sinew and flesh.

The shrill din in your ears drowns out his suffocated gasps. Even when Joel helps you stand again, your knees stuck in a tremulous lock, you barely make out his instruction to drive your foot down as hard as you can. His arm curls insistently against your ribcage, holding you upright, coaxing you into delivering the violent stampede of your sole into Matthew’s already ruined appendages. The faint, sickening crunch with each strike, the soft gurgle of blood and liquid as his bone tears through where it hasn’t been crushed already. You start to feel lightheaded and sick when Joel finally pulls you away and sets you in the chair again.

Sound comes slowly back into focus, but you don’t hear what sorts of things Joel is saying to Matthew as he crouches over his pitiful, slumped body. You can only imagine it’s the adrenaline keeping him going right now. Your expression pinches when you see Joel free Matthew of all the ties he’d carefully formed not too long ago. Or maybe it had been longer than you thought. This entire room existed in a vacuum as far as your mind was concerned. It felt as though nothing existed outside these four walls. All that existed was here and now in this moment of wrath and retribution.

Joel’s hands are warm against your face. “Hey there,” he says softly, quietly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s bent in front of you, eyes traveling across your expression and taking in every indication of your wellbeing. “Remember if it’s too much, we can–”

“No,” you grit out. The resolve to see this through gives another wind of life. “Keep going.”

Joel’s eyebrow ticks up. “You sure about that? You were lookin’ a little pale back there.”

You shrug. “Not used to this. That’s all.”

He gives you a sympathetic grin and rubs his hands along your bare thighs. You’d forgotten you were only half-dressed. “You promised you’d tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not if I’m with you.”

His whole face softens, tender and visceral in the way it reaches out to you and pulls you closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You rest your hands over his where his thumbs rub small circles. “So tell me what we do next. Help me finish this.”

And with no pretense, he ushers you up from the seat and slowly over to where Matthew lays quietly on the floor. “You wanna know what I told him?” he breathes into your ear. The wet of Matthew’s eyes glisten from where he looks up at you. The fabric gag is in his mouth again, although he is entirely unbound. You wonder what it is that Joel said to have him not daring to move again. “Told him he had to come first or I’d start breakin’ the rest of him, piece by piece, bone by bone.”

“Come first? What do you–”

“Hold onto me,” is the only warning you get before Joel is crouched behind you, reaching a hand between your legs and pulling you backward against him. Your body naturally falls open, limbs askew, as you lean into him. His fingers are thick where they breach into your bloodied entrance, still wet with your earlier release.

You quickly figure out he’s working you at such an odd angle with a distinct purpose. The pleasant but unmistakable friction against your g-spot has your legs shaking in anticipation.

“Better get to work. She’s already gettin’ close,” Joel taunts.

To your horror, Matthew drags his mangled hands across the soft length between his thighs in some warped deference to Joel’s warning that he has to reach climax before you do. The gag in his mouth isn’t substantial enough to drown out his anguished sobs. A harsh pinch to your nipple snaps your attention back to Joel. “You focus right here, sweet girl,” he husks. “You show me how good I make you feel, huh?”

You squeak out a moan when he rolls your other nipple between his nimble touch. “Ohmygod,” you breathe.

“Mmmhhmmmm,” he chuckles low against your temple. “ Mmmhhmmm, yeah, there she is.”

His fingers work you faster and harder until you’re right on the cusp, closed off the rest of the world with just Joel’s voice goading you to finish. You come with a hard jerk and grab onto his solid forearm as he positions you over Matthew. It comes out of you in steady spurts, the debauched splash of your fluids landing onto Matthew’s bare body and into the valleys and gashes you’d carved into it.

He seizes up, eyes slipping into the back of his skull. You don’t have a moment to consider the acidity of it in his open wounds, how it must make it burn and aggravate the already sensitive gashes, before Joel’s hands are everywhere on you. His voice is urgent when he says he has to have you right now. You say yes because even though your body can’t take any more of it, you want whatever he’s willing to give. You want all of him, to be swallowed whole by his want, to cave into the summon of his body and his mind.

The metallic clink of his belt and rough shove of fabric. You’re practically floating. He lines himself up and pushes in, already panting and sounding close. You cling to him where you can as he begins thrusting. The split of him stings in all the best ways, and you welcome the anchoring sensation of it. “Feel so–hhngg god- feel so fuckin’ good,” he chokes.

Your feeble moan only encourages his steady pace, filling you and spreading you and molding you to him. “I want it inside,” you whimper.

Joel gives a pained groan at your request, his hips stuttering for a moment at the visual. “Yeah? Want me to come inside you again? You like that? Like being full of me?”

You make some unintelligible noise that you hope conveys your affirmation. His gravelly moan works you towards another climax, but the roll of his hips begins to falter. You know he’s close. His body drapes over yours and pushes you both closer to the ground, nearer to the strung out stare that Matthew has in between squeezing his eyes shut tight as they’ll go.

“Oh fuck, please, Joel.” You want to be marked by him, want to be hued by the color of him spilling over into you, the tones and shades of him bleeding into you and staining into one flush of congruency. “Please, I need you,” you cry out.

He empties into you with a ragged moan as you clutch to him and find purchase with your other hand against the erratic rise and fall of Matthew’s chest. The warmth of Joel surrounds you and spills out of you with each sloppy thrust until he’s laying a path of lax, wet kisses along the column of your throat. “Love you. I love you.” He says it over and over like a mantra, breathless and in reverence that you’re his.

And you love him back more fiercely than you might ever be able to put into words. You look down at the man who’d wronged you all the while feeling the protective presence of Joel behind you. This is how it was meant to turn out, you think. A bookend to the first time you and Joel came together. A thought about that first time strikes you.

“I wanna do it like that first time,” you whisper with a turn of your head.

Joel hums in approval and gathers you closer to him. His hand slips lower in silent understanding, cupping your sex as he drags himself out of you. The mixture of his cum, your slick, and your period blood rush out of your entrance and into his curved palm. Joel flicks it, and you watch as it lands with a wet slop against Matthew’s face. Far from the fearful retreat you’d dwelled in so long, a righteous indignation swells in your chest. You lean into it with Joel’s help, letting him guide you into this new side of yourself, one that’s safe to explore and execute with him by your side.

You don’t feel the need to slap Matthew more than once with the handful of fluids. Joel is only satisfied once he’s struck him several times more and spit in his face for good measure. You aren’t sure if Matthew has finally given up or if the blood loss is starting to catch up with him. His responses are coming shorter and weaker.

Joel gets himself situated again before helping you get dressed. You’re sure it’s a sight to see, all the blood and grime and fluids covering you and your clothes. When you tell him you want Matthew brought outside, Joel gives you a dubious look but doesn’t question it. You look on as Matthew hobbles naked up the stairway, down the hallway, and past a curious John and Tommy who follow along outside. You glance around for what you need, finding it on the most level table in the front living area, and head into the cool night air.

No one asks about you and Joel’s disheveled, bloodied state. All eyes are on you for direction. What happens to Matthew is your call, just like Joel said. He holds Matthew at gunpoint, almost comical in the level of overkill. He’s bleeding, naked, and struggling to stay upright. Even if everyone understands he’s not going to survive, you and Matthew both know that the last thing he can keep is his pride and die alone without anyone around to witness such a pathetic ending.

“I know that you are probably going to die out there.” You look up the side of the steep ravine and off to the side where darkness and wilderness lie in wait. Everyone shifts at the insinuation that you will give Matthew the gift of privacy in his defeated, lonely death. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t asked for my forgiveness. So, I’m offering you the chance to make that right.”

Matthew whimpers, not yet free to die alone and away from prying eyes.

“Beg,” Joel snaps – a singular, harsh warning.

Matthew meets your eye. He looks genuinely remorseful. “I never–I never deserved you.” You give him the time he needs to power through. He’s already lost enough blood to make just speaking and holding himself upright at the same time physically taxing. You can’t imagine the mental toll. “I know if you told them to kill me, they would.” He pauses to glance Joel’s direction. “I could’ve become a different person. A better person.” He sputters and coughs again. “ You could’ve done that for me - helped me get there.”

Tears flow. Real tears. Sincere tears from a monstrous man. A man who seems to have finally come to realize things could’ve been different if he wanted them to be. He sniffs and coughs and whimpers.

“I can’t ever change how I was—” he pauses to take a wheezing gulp of air “—I can’t go back and undo it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, fat lines of tears splashing off his face.

“I know your heart is– it’s the biggest– you have so much love—”

He pauses again and steadies his labored breaths.

“If anyone had enough heart to forgive someone like me, I know it’s you.”

He holds your gaze, steady and unwavering. He means it.

“Please, please. Forgive me.”

You look at the brutalized, broken man before you, weeping and begging for your exoneration. You glance at Joel who is already watching you with a pensive expression. You look back down at Matthew. He hasn’t looked away from you as he awaits his fate.

“You haven’t earned my forgiveness, and you never will.”

Your scathing verdict hits colder than the nighttime air. Matthew’s eyes bug out, wide and terrified. You think you hear Tommy laugh. “Put him in the pit,” you command. You jerk your head towards the unlit firepit at the edge of the dense treeline.

John and Joel happily cart Matthew, flailing and fighting with the vigor that is somehow miraculously still fueling his will to live, as Tommy trains the gun on him. They heave him into the hollowed out recess and await your next decree. Matthew is screaming and clawing at the walls. You think if he weren’t so badly injured he would be able to easily get himself out. His current state, however, renders him confined to the small circular space. Your hands shake as you reach into your pocket for the item you grabbed on your way out. A silent mass butts up against your back and steadies your hand. Joel.

“I got you,” he reassures you quietly, softly.

He holds the package in place in your left hand and guides the match in your right hand across the raised pattern of the strike pad. A flash of white settles into a warm orange burn on the end of the match.

“I’ve got you, baby. Go ahead.”

You lean over the pit, over Matthew’s desperate calls for you to not do this, and drop the flame. John grabs something from the side and hands it to Joel. Accelerant. He concentrates the first few spurts onto Matthew’s body before dashing a smaller amount over your flame. He pulls you both back as the fire swirls and shoots and swells from the pit. You close your eyes and lean back into Joel as you all stand and listen to the agonized screams coming from the bottom of the cavity.

Joel pulls you closer to him, pulls you down with him to rest on the stump nearby. The sounds of Matthew’s demise come slower and slower as the blaze consumes him. You turn your body, cradling into Joel’s embrace, and nestle your head against the crook of his neck. It blocks out some of the noise. He dips his head and fills your mouth with the slip of his hot tongue. You drink him in, open wider for him, let him into whatever space of yours he wants. It’s all his. You’re both each other’s. The kiss slows until it’s just lips grazing back and forth. A quiet comfort. A soft soothing. A safe embrace.

“Did I do okay?” you ask in a hush. Joel hears what you’re really asking: Did I do the right thing?

“You did the best you could with what you had, darlin’.”

You nod, mulling over his sage take on your decision to end Matthew’s life. “And was my best good enough?” The last bit comes out in a sort of choke, your emotions getting the better of you.

“You are good enough,” Joel is quick to emphasize. “And it’s high time you started livin’ the life you deserve.”

“I only want that if it’s with you.”

“And I’m up for the challenge of makin’ up for lost time,” he replies with a soft smile.

The tortured cries have died away, lost into the high pitched sound of the wet spots being scorched from the insides of the logs.

“But what about Rachel and the baby?” You fiddle with the button on your shirt. Even though they were better off without Matthew, you still felt the guilt of leaving her with the burden of birthing and raising a child on her own. When he doesn’t respond right away, you turn to Joel. His body is tense with the knowledge of something, another hidden truth.

“Tell me,” you urge him in a hush. “We’ve made it this far. You won’t scare me. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

He pulls you closer, some form of self-soothing perhaps, and relents more of the endless dedication he holds for you. “He has no business havin’ a bloodline.” He’s quiet for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finding the right words. You wait for him, just like he always waits for you. “Won’t be too long now before she turns up to the clinic to find out she’s lost it.”

Lost it.

Lost it?

“You… what does—”

“She won’t know any different. Prolly chalk it up to the stress of everythin’. And she wasn’t hurt in the process, neither, so don’t go thinkin’ I’d–”

“Who did it?”

Joel finally looks at you. “Somebody in the greenhouses owed me. Got a knack for medicinal herb stuff.”

“So–So, what? They made her take something–”

“Nobody made her do anythin’,” he’s quick to correct. “It was mixed in with her food rations. Had the main dose of it prepared in a cafeteria meal she had, too, just in case.” He shrugs. “ Wanted to be sure.”

You swallow hard, not letting the mix of emotions bleed through to your expression. You don’t want Joel to think you don’t trust him, that you’re scared of him, scared of someone who was capable of such a thing - not after everything you’d been through.

“So, you– whoever it was, they gave her something to make the pregnancy fail?” You already know the answer, but you want him to say it.

“Yes.”

You nod, awash in your thoughts and mixed feelings over this splintered arm of a fucked up situation. Joel is unmoving beside you, waiting in anticipation of your blessing or reprimand.

“No part of him exists anymore,” you say. It’s a plain observation, but you both sit in the spoken impact of it. “No part of him exists anymore, and the world is better for it.”

Your body feels weak and raw, but it’s unlike the weight of stress and danger that’s been plaguing you for so long. No, it’s the fragile heap of newness, the tentative foray of new life. Joel holds you close, coddles you, as you both stare wordlessly into the blazing fire. He watches you from the corner of his eye, only shifting when you meet his gaze. Thoughtful. Quiet.

“You ready to go home?”

Home. You smile at the thought of it, the house you now share, but know that home is truly wherever you and Joel are together. He grins back in understanding.

“Yeah,” you softly sigh, content and sleepy. “Let’s go home, Joel.”

Thank you thank you thank you for all the love and patience with this series! I've poured so much into this to get it right and tell the sort of story I feel deserves to be told. I am so proud of it (and that I finally finished it!), and I hope that it can heal parts of you as it did for me when I was writing it.

Many thanks to @jupiter-soups and @ghoulettesinspace for beta'ing and helping see this story come to a close.

Thank you for reading. I love you all. 💜

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

tagging: @csarab615 @maryrhodalouandted @wrathofcats @fckyeapedrothots99 @spookyxsam @purplesucksbutts @untamedheart81 @electriclasso @pedroficrecblog @ladyscarlettdixon @fan-of-encouragement @blackvelveteen1339 @defijones @ploddingalong @clickergossip @akah565 @rose-with-few-thorns @miraclesabound @elegantmusicdragon @amneris21 @oldmanfromthewoods @sabbs118

@bowie-sunbaenim @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @uudelally @urlocalcr4ckwhor3 @drunk-and-capable @vickywallace @gaiahypothesims @lilipads @ashleyfilm @hiddenbabynyc @marvelouslyme96 @sleepyinspiration @reneerocks3617 @biast @sweetly-yours-and-mine @voguementhols @imperfectspatula @h0neyb3ars @whatsliferightnow @fuckthatbazinga @bigbutchenergee @mysticalsuitkryptonite @weepingkittybear

cont'd in comments

#fic: whistle in the dark #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #cuckolding is romantic #tlou #joel miller tlou

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emotionally-cuckolded · 4 months

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And as you watched her get ready, you could sense her nervousness and excitement -- and you were nervous and excited too. You both knew this cuckolding might be different from any of her previous dalliances -- that your boss was obviously very attracted to her, and she to him, so there was a good chance that this would be just the start of a long-term romantic relationship between them.

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hotwifeky1 · 4 months

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Alpha Males, Sperm competition, and Cuckoldry

(our kinks from an evolutionary biology perspective)

The phenomenon where males experience an increase in desire and fertility when observing their mate engaging with another partner, is often referred to as "sperm competition risk"

From an evolutionary biology perspective, this behavior can be understood through several theories:

Sperm Competition Risk:

Increased Ejaculate Volume: Males typically respond to the perceived risk of sperm competition by greatly increasing the volume of their ejaculate. This is thought to function as a form of displacement, increasing the chances of their sperm outcompeting that of potential rivals.

Increased Sexual Arousal and Fertility:

When males perceive or observe their partner with another mate, particularly when chance of sperm competition exist (other males trying to fertilize the same egg), this triggers an adaptive response in the form of greatly increased sexual arousal, desire and fertility. This is thought to be an adaptation to compete effectively in situations where multiple males are vying for the opportunity to father offspring.

Potential benefits

From an evolutionary perspective, the heightened desire, arousal, focus, and drive provide a large competitive advantage. If there's a chance of sperm competition, being sexually impassioned increases the likelihood of the observing male's sperm fertilizing the egg. The continuous denial of sexual interaction further amplifies these benefits. By maintaining a state of heightened desire without immediate release, the observing male sustains an elevated level of reproductive readiness. This prolonged state of arousal becomes an advantageous strategy, potentially increasing the male's chances of success not only in reproduction but also in various aspects of everyday life. The surplus of energy, focus, and drive may contribute to success across different domains, aligning with the overarching goal of evolutionary fitness.

Cuckoldry Detection and Response:

Adaptive Jealousy:

Evolutionary psychology suggests that males who exhibit jealousy and distress over potential infidelity may have had a reproductive advantage.

This emotional response acts as a mechanism to deter a mate from engaging with other males, reducing the risk of cuckoldry.

The cuckold male may also gather information by observing the mating behaviors of potential rivals. This is thought to be an adaptive strategy to understand the competition and adjust his own behaviors accordingly.

Paternal Investment:

In species where males invest significantly in parenting, there is an evolved response to protect their paternal investment. The greatly Increased arousal along with increased romantic and sexual interest in response to perceived mate infidelity is a strategy to safeguard resources and parental care for their own genetic offspring.

The alpha male typically refers to a dominant and high-status male in a social group. The alpha male generally has preferential access to mates and reproductive opportunities.

Alpha Male Cuckoldry reproductive strategy:

Within the context of cuckoldry, the alpha male strategically reserves exclusive access to mates. Cuckoldry occurs when the non-dominant male knowingly or unknowingly raises offspring that do not carry his genetic material.

This reproductive strategy is advantageous for the both the alpha male and his mate, allowing him to pass on his own genes while minimizing resource-intensive parental duties. The female benefits by mating with a genetically superior male while sharing parental responsibilities with the non-dominant male.

By ensuring that the non-dominant male invests in raising offspring that carry the alpha male's genetic legacy, this reproductive approach aligns with the collective goal of the female and alpha male, maximizing his reproductive success within the social structure. The alpha male's dominance and preferential access to mates become central elements in shaping the dynamics of cuckoldry as an evolutionary strategy.

Often, the non-dominant male, in his role, finds personal satisfaction in having his sexual and reproductive desires denied as he plays a crucial part in perpetuating the genetic lineage of the dominant alpha male rather than his own.

#evolutionary biology #bnwo #alpha man #selective breeding

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yourfatherlucifer · 6 months

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You Smell Divine (PSH/JWY)

Fallen Angel!Seonghwa x Afab!Reader x Gumiho!Wooyoung

Warnings: "Baby I'm Preying On You Tonight, Hunt You Down, Eat You Alive, Just Like Animals."

Warnings: MDNI, cuckolding, voyeurism, biting, tail pulling, dom!wooyoung, superhuman stamina, , mischievous woo, superhuman speed, superhuman smell

AU: supernatural

Genre: Smut

WC: 1.4k

Rating: R

Taglist: @k-hotchoisan @wooyoungqueen @stardragongalaxy @min-inu @staytinyville

Nets: @cromernet @kflixnet @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @pirateeznet @wonderlandnet @monsterfvckersunited

Thanks @wooyoungqueen for the ideas! Hope you enjoy my first Wooyoung fic! <3

part one | part two

"When's the last time you cleaned up this place, Seonghwa? It looks abandoned." You were standing in front of a very dirty looking cabin in the woods.

Seonghwa scoffed as if he was offended, "First of all, rude. The inside is very clean and maintained, this is where I resided before I met you and fell."

"Besides, you'll love it, Y/N." Seonghwa grabbed your hand and brought you inside, he wasn't wrong either. The inside was very well organized, not a spot of dirt on site.

You could smell some kind of cinnamon with vanilla, and several candles lined the living area. He had flowers on the floor, Seonghwa must have put in an effort to make it romantic for you.

A smile plastered on your face, "What is all of this for?"

"Its for you, to celebrate our love, because I am happy to meet you." He wrapped his hands around your waist, smiling with such loving eyes.

"Oh, Seonghwa." You brought your lips to his.

Seonghwa brought you to the couch, but sitting down first so you could straddle his thighs. His hands wander up the inside of your shirt. You moaned when he cupped your breasts, then deepened the kiss. As you ground your hips into his lap, an animalistic growl could be heard outside the front door. Seonghwa's wings shot out of his back and wrapped around you, in a protective manner.

"Stay here." he quickly released you, his demeanor quickly changed into something sinister as he stared at the door. The growling only increased as if mocking whoever was on the other side of it. As you hid behind the couch, Seonghwa yanked open the door.

"Wooyoung??"

The growling ceased but then howling laughter replaced it, "Hi Seonghwa! It's been awhile since I last smelled you here. I also smell something delicious~"

Wooyoung popped his head over his elder friend's shoulder, "Oh! What's this? You got a girlfriend? Since when!" his friend rambled on, excited.

You stood up, now curious, "Seonghwa, who is this?"

Seonghwa facepalmed before throwing his head back. After inviting his hyperactive friend in, "This is Wooyoung, he's a gumiho, in other words, he's a fox spirit, guardian, nine-tailed fox, whatever."

"Wooyoung, this is my girlfriend, Y/N."

Wooyoung smiled, "Ah! You must be the one that made his wings go black then."

"I guess." You stepped back as he tried to grab your hands in his own.

You could see a fluffy large tail sway behind him, and ears pop out of his head.

He took notice of your staring, "Did you wanna touch them." He smiled, revealing his canines.

Seonghwa smacked his friend on the back of the head, "Leave her alone, Woo."

"Fi-" Wooyoung began sniffing the air like crazy, smelling something so sweet, it was overwhelming, his dick hardened immediately, "Don't tell me, were you two about to get down and dirty?" He smirked.

Your face had reddened as you hid behind Seonghwa, "What are you on about Woo?" He said.

"I can smell her arousal, Hwa."

"Too bad, she's mine you fox."

"Keep the attitude, Seonghwa and I'll eat her liver."

"You will do no such thing!"

"Fine, I won't do anything, just as long as I get to have a piece of her, but you get to watch only." Wooyoung stepped up to his elder, eyeing him with a sharp grin.

Seonghwa tipped his head to the side, "Hm, alright, deal."

"Y/N, bedroom, now." Seonghwa demanded.

Your feet quickly dragged you down a hall and into a room on the left, somehow finding the bedroom, which you didn't know the location previously.

There was a neat queen sized bed in the middle with white sheets, and a matching white recliner in the corner across from it. Marching your way to the bed, quickly sliding off your shirt and bottoms.

You could hear the footsteps of both men walking down the hallway so you threw yourself up onto the bed.

Wooyoung slipped into the room, the grin still on his face, "Oh? She's all ready for me!"

Wooyoung practically ran over to the bed, pulling his shirt over his head.

Seonghwa sighed, "Be careful with her, Wooyoung, or you'll be done for." He sat himself on the recliner, getting ready to enjoy the show.

Wooyoung hovered over you, pressing his covered and hardened cock into you, "You feel that? Yeah, you feel my hard dick on you? You feel how you're making me feel?" He leaned down and growled into your ear, "fuck, you smell so delicious, in my centuries of being alive, never have I smelled something so divine."

While he was distracted whispering filthy words into your ears, you took that as an opportunity to reach behind him and grab his tail. He yelped in surprise, a lengthy but whiny moan followed after. His strong demeanor falters for a second before returning back to a hard stare.

"Oh-ho-ho, you really messed up." He growled again. Wooyoung flipped you onto your stomach, pulling down your underwear and laying a few smacks onto your bare ass before squeezing each cheek in his palms.

"Ah! Wooyoung!" you yelled out.

Seonghwa was in the corner, palming his bulge.

Wooyoung shoved down his pants in a quick manner.

"Should I even prepare you? You were so bad, I should really just shove my dick inside of you."

"Wooyoung." Seonghwa warned.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved him off.

Wooyoung ran his fingers up and down your wet hole before pushing them in, "I'm gonna have so much fun with you."

You whined as you gripped the bedsheets, anticipating for what was to come, you wanted to look at Seonghwa, but knew this is what he wanted, he liked seeing you stuffed full of other mens cock, preferably non-human cock. He really did love seeing you come undone for the supernatural.

Wooyoung bared his canines as he watched himself pump his fingers in and out of your aching cunt. He leaned down to bite your shoulder, seeing yet another bite mark, “What’s this?”

He pulled his fingers out of you and glared at the mark, “Seonghwa, you don’t have fangs, what happened?”

Wooyoung sat on his knees and turned back to look at him.

Seonghwa sighed, getting aggravated his show was interrupted, “Demon. Now continue. I need to see her come undone more. Corrupt her. Now.” His eyebrow twitched.

Wooyoung cackled like a hyena, unlike his fox persona, “Ooo, so demanding, spooky.” He wiggled his fingers at him. He turned his attention back to you who had your face in the pillow.

Wooyoung yanks down his boxers, his reddened cock springing free, ‘Now this is what I am talking about.” He pulled your hips to him.

Rubbing his cock on your clit, “Get ready.”

He shoved his cock into your hole, moaning at the sensation of you squeezing around him,

“Fuck~” His moans reached in pitch, creating such a delicious sound from him.

His hips falter for just a second before creating a rough pace, slamming your hips into his. His speed reached inhuman heights. Seonghwa pumped his own cock from across the room, watching your fucked out face.

Wooyoung flipped you back over, not pulling his cock out even for a second. He reached down for your lips, before he heard Seonghwa growl himself, “Don’t even dare, fox. I will kill you if you kiss her.”

“How’d you know?” He grinned evilly.

“How’d I know you want to steal her vital energy? Because I am not stupid. Now fuck her like your life depends on it!”

“You got it~” Wooyoung placed both hands on the sides of your head. His hips created bruises on yours by how fast he was going. You couldn’t even breathe for a second, “Please!” You cried out.

At this point tears were pouring down your cheeks, you had already orgasmed multiple times, wondering just how this man hadn’t himself.

Your arms wrapped around his back, your nails scratching down his back. He was enjoying the pain. “Feels that good, huh? I bet he can’t fuck you like this, can he?” Wooyoung whispered in your ear.

“Maybe you should be with me~ I could give you everlasting pleasure, just give me your life.”

Seonghwa could hear everything, despite what Wooyoung thought. He was tempted to throw him into the wall and teach him a lesson but he was too busy chasing his own release.

Wooyoung leaned down to your breasts, licking them all over before pulling a nipple into his mouth, “I am so close, human.”

You were too far gone to even respond, but could feel his warm cum spill into your walls, “Oh, fuck!” His hips stilled into yours.

Seonghwa stood up, now pulling his friend off of you, “That's enough, I didn’t say you could release in her.”

Wooyoung grinned, “Oops~”

#cromernet #cultofdionysusnet #k-labels #kflixnet #pirateeznet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #x reader #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa

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juneknight · 7 months

Text

One and One and One

Kink: cuckolding

Layla/f!reader/Marc

Features: cuckolding, cumming untouched, strap-ons, oral sex, mentions of safewords.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Marc murmurs beneath his breath as you cuff his hands behind his back to the slats of the chair. One of his ankles are cuffed to the chair legs—though why he and Layla only have one cuff, you have no idea. This is the closest you’ve ever been to Marc. Close enough that you can see his every eyelash, the different dark hues in his irises, the little indentation in the tip of his nose. As close as you are, you know that he is scrutinizing you as well, dark eyes sweeping over the plains of your face. You wonder if he can feel the heat being thrown off by your cheeks.

“I didn’t talk you into this,” you remind him shyly. “Layla did.”

Marc’s mouth—full and pink and so fucking soft looking—quirks upward at the edges. “I can’t believe you let her talk you into this.”

“Me either,” you admit dryly.

You can’t, really. You and Layla had been friends for so many years—and yes there had been a few nights when you were younger that you had explored each other physically and romantically, but it had been so long. When she came to you and admitted Marc had this fantasy, and that her only caveat was that you be their partner. Did she know about your (harmless!) little crush on Marc? Surely she knew about your (even more harmless!) crush on her.

Regardless, if Layla’s stories were anything to go by, she and Marc got up to some very kinky stuff.

Have you ride Layla while Marc watched might take the cake, though.

“Getting friendly?” Layla asks when she comes in, wearing only one of her satin-silky robes, the hem of which brushes just above her knees. You can see her hard nipples through the fabric. Layla loves having her breasts stimulated—suckled, nibbled, fondled. Maybe she’ll let you do more than just ride her strap-on before the night is over.

“I’m having second thoughts,” Marc says lowly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. “Mostly thinking that I’m an idiot for agreeing to let myself be tied up when you’re both in the room having sex.”

“You know your safeword,” Layla says with a grin. She looks to you and mouths ‘Moon’. You nod to let her know you understand. Her smile only grows at your obedience. Turning to face you head-on, she lets her hands fall to your hips. She ducks her head and kisses you, and you are already moaning into her mouth. Layla kisses like she does everything in life: with honed practice, with passion. You hear the cuffs rattle as Marc fights against his bonds, and it only makes you realize how wet you are, how wet you have been all night, so eager for dinner to be over so that the three of you could begin this.

“Fuck,” Marc groans. “Untie me. Let me out.”

“No,” Layla says after parting from you reluctantly. You chase her mouth a little and she laughs at how desperate you are.

“Fucking—I mean it Layla!”

“He likes to be a little brat,” Layla whispers to you conspiratorially. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek. “But you—you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod, feeling struck dumb by her.

“Let’s find you a nice big cock get fucked by, huh?” she says with a grin, her cheeks flushed warm and eyes glittering with mirth and mischief. She goes to the bed where the different dildos lay out like hor’dourves to be sampled. They are all of different length or girth or color, some textured, others smooth. Whispering just loud enough for Marc to hear, she asks: “Shall we choose one that’s bigger than his? So that we can feel what it’s like to really get fucked?”

“I’ll show you what it’s like,” Marc vows darkly.

“I wouldn’t know which to pick,” you admit. It’s not as if you’ve ever seen Marc’s cock.

“Hmm, my choice, then,” she says, tapping her chin. At last she settles on a monster—if she truly was trying to find one that was bigger than Marc’s and this was her last resort, then Marc must be pretty well hung. You can’t help but glance toward him, taking in the picture he makes. Dressed in only his jeans and the white t-shirt he had changed into after spilling soy sauce on his dress-shirt at dinner, his muscles bulge against his bonds as he tests them again and again. His eyes are unfathomably dark, his breaths fast and shallow.

His cock, hard and pressing at the denim confines. When his eyes meet yours, you feel liable to explode. You turn away quickly, just as Layle focuses on you. She undresses you with gentle, tender touches, pausing every now and then to stroke a new expanse of skin until you sigh with pleasure.

When she works the lacy little set of panties down your hips, she holds them up to Marc like a spoil of war, her expression smug.

“Be a good boy, or I’ll gag you with these,” she warns him. Marc opens his fucking mouth. Layla breathes an incredulous little laugh. “Oh, you want them anyway? Proactive. What a good little slut you make, baby.”

She goes to him and feeds the scrappy piece of lace into his mouth. Stepping aside, she rifles through the bedside drawer for a moment to find a ball with a bell inside. She presses it into his hand: a non-verbal safe word. His knuckles stand out as he grips the ball tightly, perhaps silently trying to show that he wouldn’t be dropping it—not for anything.

Layla comes back to you and kisses you until you’re dizzy. Her hands trace along you, relearning the plains of your body the way they did all those years ago when the two of you first explored each other and your sexualities. Her fingers are nimble when they find your nipples, plucking at them softly in a way that has you breaking from her mouth to gasp. Your head turns and you take in the sight of Marc: his hard cock an impressive bulge in his pants, your panties in his mouth, his eyes heavy-lidded and burning hot.

Then Layla’s hand slips down between your thighs and you nearly shout as two of her fingers swipe through your folds, finding your aching clit and smearing your own arousal against it. “Oh Marc,” says Layla, looking to him with a wide grin. “She is so, so wet.”

Marc makes a pathetic little sound. This bit of weakness is like blood in the water to the shark inside Layla. She slips away from you again, holding up her soaked fingers for him to inspect in the dim lighting. Then she smears them across his parted lips, knowing that he will be unable to taste you with your panties in his mouth. Marc’s eyes roll back; he is the picture of tortured ecstasy.

“Fuck, Layla,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together. “Come on, please…”

She slaps Marc’s chest softly. “See what you made me do? I’m neglecting our girl.”

You shiver at those words, at being called their girl. God, this is only meant to be a one-time thing, but you have known for so long that no time with Layla would ever be the last time. Flushed warm with her ownership, you drop down onto your knees and crawl to her, heart pounding at the way Marc groans at the sight. You sit on your heels and open your mouth, a silent invitation.

Layla’s fingers stroke your face softly. “I have two little sluts…you want to suck my cock, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, mouth open. She rests two fingers on your tongue and you suck softly.

“I’ll let you suck my dick—on one condition.”

“Anything,” you mumble around her fingers. She removes them and takes your chin in her hand, your own saliva smearing across your cheek as she tilts your eyes up to her.

“When you suck my cock, I want you to pretend it’s Marc’s.”

Marc’s groan is mirrored by your own. Your eyes flicker to him, your face burning hot. His eyes are wide and dark, tracing over the plains of your face. Beneath the lust, you can almost see the question: would you do this? If you did agree to do this—why? Marc has no idea that feelings that have started to grow inside you the day that Layla introduced you both.

You didn’t know that Layla had any idea either. But when your eyes flicker back up to her, you see the warmth in them, the silent assurance. She wants you to do this. Almost as badly as you do.

Instead of turning away, you press out your tongue. The perfect place for her to rest the head of her fake cock. Your eyes flutter shut as you try to imagine it the way she says, to imagine that this is Marc’s cock you’re sucking. Instead of plastic, there would be warm, soft skin. Velvet overlaying steel. His smell would be all around you, that earthy shower gel he uses (and you use, sometimes, when you stay the night. Just to smell like him).

Marc would feed his cock past your lips til the fat head nudges against the back of your mouth at the entrance of your throat, and still you would want more, swallowing your drool tilting your head to hopefully be able to take more of him into your mouth. Fingers twine into your hair, and it only enhances your fantasy when they guide you up and down their cock, using your mouth for their own pleasure. That is how Marc would be; you’re sure of it: confident, entitled, even as he is gentle.

A choked sound catches your attention, jolting you from this little fantasy. Layla pulls your head back by your hair, and both of you turn to look at Marc whose head is thrown back, arms straining at his bonds. A growing stain at the tented crotch of his jeans…

“Oh my god, baby, did you just cum? Did you just fucking cum?” Layla asks, voice growing higher with barely restrained glee. Her thumb swipes over your swollen lips, but you can’t even turn to look at her, not when Marc’s face is red, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching in his pants as he just watched Layla fuck your mouth.

Marc groans, writhing more. His demand is clear. He wants out.

Layla turns your head up so that you meet her eyes again. They are warm, pupils huge with arousal and the dim lighting. She grins, pretty mouth stretching wide with joy.

“He wants me to set him free—but we’re not finished yet, are we love?”

You shake your head. No, the night is just beginning—even for Marc.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x layla el faouly #marc spector x layla el faouly x reader

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

Kinkuary 22 Chris & Seungmin — cuckold // voyeurism

➥ dom!Seungmin x sub!Reader w/ Chris watching summary: For Seungmin’s birthday, Chris decided to give him a gift he’s never considered giving to anyone else: a night with his own girlfriend, Y/N. wc: 4.6k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship (Chris), sexual content (minors dni!): hard dom!Seungmin, sub!Reader, oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (use protection! Reader is on birth control, Seungmin doesn’t use a condom), cuckold (Chris), degradation (mainly towards Chris from Seungmin), panties (are getting shoved in someones mouth but you ain't hear it from me), rough sex, spanking, voyeurism (Chris watches), use of pet names (baby mainly but babe and princess at the end. Seungmin calls the reader a slut a few times). I think I got everything but let me know if I missed any warnings! a/n: when I first paired these two together, I knew I wanted to do a cuckold scenario with Chris and Seungmin. Don’t ask why ‘cause I can’t answer that. I just did lol I hope you enjoy this part and thank you for reading! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan Stray Kids taglist: @niktwazny303 @g4megirl @rapmonie2047 @indigo35 @witherednotes @cixrosie @fay-ebrahim Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

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“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Chris whispered nervously as Seungmin tightened the ties to the chair.

The younger man stood back to admire his handiwork. “You want to back down now?” He asked, crossing his arms and fixing the elder with a concerned look.

“If you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to,” he added, moving to untie Chris’ wrists. The older man shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I made a promise not only to you but to her as well. I can do this,” he said, nodding.

Whether he was trying to convince himself or Seungmin the latter would never know. Instead of replying, he moved to the desk, picking up Chris’ phone that was connected to the bluetooth speaker. “And it’s this playlist?” Seungmin asked, holding up the screen for Chris to see.

Squinting at the screen for a brief moment, Chris nodded finally as the bathroom door opened. Both men turned as you entered the room, wearing a simple black silk robe. Your cheeks burned under their gazes as you stepped further into the room, stopping feet from the bed.

Chris allowed his eyes to roam your body, sweeping over every curve and exposed bit of skin. His eyes shifted to Seungmin who was also looking at you, eyes exploring your figure. Chris suspected it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

When he suggested this entire situation, he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d had a bit too much to drink but he wasn’t lying when he said he gets off to the idea of his girlfriend, you, being fucked by another man while he watches.

Until now, Chris didn’t really trust anyone else to touch you until he saw how you and Seungmin got along and more importantly how Seungmin acted around you.

It was clear the younger man was into you, especially sexually.

Which is when Chris got the idea to let Seungmin have sex with you while he watched. You weren’t sure at first, feeling as if you would be crossing many lines of your relationship.

Chris assured you that as long as nothing remotely romantic happened between you and Seungmin, it was okay. He just wanted to watch you get off with another man and he trusted Seungmin more than the others.

So when the younger man’s birthday approached, Chris took him aside to put his plan into action. Seungmin, like you, was afraid of crossing lines. Chris assured him there would be boundaries and as long as neither you nor Seungmin cross them, all was okay.

After talking to each of you, Chris sat you both down together to discuss the boundaries to be set and make preparations. Obviously this couldn’t happen at the dorm. Too many people were around.

You decided you would rent a hotel room under your name but Chris refused to let you pay and Seungmin refused to let Chris pay for everything but Chris reminded Seungmin this was the letters birthday gift.

The plan was set. The three of you went out for dinner under the guise of you and Chris taking Seungmin on a special birthday dinner, something you’d done for the other members before so it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary.

But this? Getting a hotel room was definitely not something they’d done with the others.

“Remind me again,” Seungmin said, pulling Chris from his thoughts and drawing your attention.

“What’s your safeword,” Seungmin added, crossing the short distance between you, eyes moving up from your body to your face. “We use the traffic light system,” Chris answered from his seat near the edge of the bed.

Seungmin turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask you,” he said in a low tone before turning back to face you. “Traffic light system?” He asked to which you nodded. “Green for all good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop?” He asked again, reaching up to caress your cheek as you nodded once more.

“Good,” he said, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Open,” he said softly, watching as your body reacted, obeying his words and the way your eyes fluttered shut as you sucked on his thumb.

“I’m really going to enjoy this,” he whispered with a sly grin.

“Ah! S-Seungmin,” you whimpered, thighs trying to close on his head as his tongue ravished your clit. “Too much,” you cried out, body squirming as you tried to get free from his grip. “Feels too good.”

He'd already made you cum twice; once with his tongue and again with his fingers and now he was working you back up to a third orgasm at that point. It was overwhelming and you couldn't think straight. Your mind was full of just him. Just Seungmin.

Seungmin let out a chuckle, pulling back to glance up at you from between your thighs. “Feels too good, baby?” He asked with a smirk. “You want me to stop because it feels too good?” You shook your head, mind clouded and clearly not knowing exactly what you wanted.

Seungmin scoffed but went back to attacking your clit with his tongue, teasing and toying with it as he held your hips in place. “If you want him to stop, you know what to say, baby,” Chris said from the chair, his eyes fixated on your figure as you writhed and squirmed.

Seungmin smirked, lips still against your sex. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You know exactly what to say, baby,” he said, mocking Chris’ pet name for you. “Watch it, Seungmin,” Chris warned. “I let the first one go, but I won’t be so understanding next time.”

Seungmin pulled back and sighed. “You just gonna run your mouth the whole time, man? If so, it’s really gonna ruin the experience.”

Chris gaped at the boldness of his friend. “Maybe I should silence you,” he suggested. “Make you close your mouth.” You started to stir, having been given a reprieve from Seungmin’s relentless torture.

“What do you think, Y/N?” He asked suddenly. “Do you think Chris is talking too much?” You couldn’t form a proper sentence but even if you could, you knew antagonizing your boyfriend would only end in punishment for you the next time he had you alone.

You shook your head. “Ignore him,” you murmured, pushing yourself up. Seungmin turned his attention back to you. “Where do you think you’re-?” He started but you cut him off, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him towards you, connecting your lips and tasting yourself on his tongue as yours slipping into his mouth.

“Ignore him. Just fuck me,” you said breathlessly so only Seungmin could hear you. “He’s just here to watch. This isn’t about him. This is about you.”

Seungmin let out a groan, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and connecting his lips with yours again. One of your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one until you could push the material off him.

He wasn’t as built as Chris, but you could still see he spent his free time in the gym with his hyungs. Your hand moved down his shoulder, stopping to softly squeeze his bicep as your free hand moved to start unbuttoning his pants.

“You that eager for my cock?” Seungmin whispered, moving to kiss along your jaw. “Want it inside you that badly?” You nodded, moving your other hand to continue messing with his pants until you got the zipper down.

You slipped one hand into the opening, palm resting against his erection and groaning at the size. He was definitely larger than Chris, that much you could tell and you wondered if this was still a good idea.

Your mind cleared as you felt Seungmin’s lips kiss down the side of your neck, stopping to bite into the spot where your neck and shoulder met. You let out a whine, wrapping a thigh around his waist as he laid you back onto the mattress.

“I hope you don’t mind me marking you,” he whispered as his lips moved lower, kissing down your chest and stopping to glance up at you.

You stared down at him as his fingers undid the front clasp of your bra, pushing the material off and cupping your breasts in his hands. You sighed, back arching and pressing into his touch.

You let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your raised nipple, taking it into his mouth and teasing it while he squeezed and massaged the other, rolling the nub between his fingers.

You could feel Chris’ eyes on you from his seat. He’d fallen silent, watching the way your body reacted to Seungmin’s touch. He was unbelievably hard in his jeans but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene before him.

Usually, he was very dominant with you but he was much softer than Seungmin was being right now and while it turned him on to watch another man pleasuring you, he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about how rough Seungmin was being.

“You doing alright?” Chris asked softly, drawing your attention to him. You nodded as you made eye contact, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you let out another moan feeling Seungmin’s teeth gently pinch your nipple before he let it fall from his mouth. You whined as he kissed back up to your lips, taking you in a searing kiss.

Your hand in his pants started to stroke him slowly. “Keep doing that,” Seungmin groaned against your lips. You slipped your hand past the waistband of his underwear, your palm finally making contact with his hard cock and Seungmin let out a low hiss.

He pushed you full onto your back, pulled back and removed his pants and underwear in one motion. You let out a whine as he knelt between your thighs, letting his cock rest against you.

“You look so pretty like this,” he said with a smirk. “Makes me wish I’d gotten to you before Chris.” You heard a choked sound come from where Chris sat. Seungmin turned his head to look at his friend.

“Don’t act like you’re the only one out of all of us who was into Y/N,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Felix and Han would have jumped at the chance to do this, too.”

A moan escaped past your lips as Seungmin slowly started to rut against you, letting the bottom of his cock drag against your clit. “You want this?” He asked teasingly. You nodded frantically, willing to take anything that would get you closer to relief.

Seungmin had already spent a great amount of time working you up slowly, playing with your pussy, teasing it with his tongue and fingers to the point you were ready to explode from the lingering tension.

“You want my cock inside you, baby?” He asked, his voice dropping lower as his eyes darkened. “Want me to fill you up?” You let out a choked sob, nodding again. “Yes,” you whimpered. “Please, Seungmin.”

Seungmin let out a dark chuckle. “I need you to do something for me first,” he said, his movements halting as he looked down at you.

He wasn’t lying earlier when he said you were pretty. He really did like the way you looked under him, hair a mess, skin flushed, the pretty lace that decorated your tits and left nothing to the imagination and your lower half completely bare.

The way your thighs were spread, letting him be so close and so intimate was something he’d never even imagined. He’d be a liar if he said he’d never fantasized about you before. He wasn’t the only one either. Han and Felix and even Hyunjin had admitted to having had inappropriate thoughts about their leader’s girlfriend before.

But fantasy and reality were much different and this was better than any fantasy he could dream up.

“What do you need me to do?” You whispered, looking up at him with doe like eyes. It made Seungmin want to not only ruin you but also take care of you. He pushed those softer thoughts from his mind and gave you a smile.

“Come here,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you up as he sat back. You sat up, resting your ass on your heels as you waited for him to speak. To instruct you on what he wanted you to do.

Seungmin leaned in, lips brushing against your ear and spoke.

“I want you to show your boyfriend how well you suck another man’s cock.”

Your eyes widened and you glanced briefly at your boyfriend sitting in his chair and watching the whole scene with attentive eyes. You looked back to Seungmin and nodded. You took his cock in your hand and gave it a few slow strokes before leaning over and taking the head in your mouth.

Chris watched as you lowered your head and had to turn away for a second to compose himself before turning back to watch as your head moved, taking Seungmin’s cock further and further into your mouth, filling the room with wet sounds.

He was already painfully hard in his jeans and wanted so desperately to touch himself but he promised himself to wait. It was clear that Seungmin wanted to be in charge here and he knew he’d have to wait until the younger man said it was okay, if he even said it at all.

Seungmin’s head fell back as you gagged when the tip hit the back of your throat but made no attempt to pull away. One hand stroked your head while the other kept him prompt up, fingers digging into the plush mattress.

“Fuck, so good,” he groaned, gently pushing your head down. “Come on,” you heard him whisper. “I know you can take more than that.”

You gagged again as his cock pushed into your throat, restricting your airflow. “That’s it,” Seungmin gasped. “You do this for him?” He asked, referring to Chris. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak since he had his dick in your throat, Seungmin turned to Chris.

“She ever done this for you?” He asked, nodding down to where you were currently deepthroating him. “Let you fuck her throat?” He added, bucking his hips and thrusting into your throat.

“Hey, be careful with her!” Chris suddenly barked at Seungmin.

Seungmin pulled you off him, watching as you gasped and coughed, air filling your burning lungs. “Too much?” He asked, studying your face. Despite the fact that you were a mess, Seungmin couldn’t help but find a certain beauty in it.

The spit coating your lips and dribbling down your chin, your eyes watering and makeup ruined. The redness in your face leaving as you slowly returned to your natural tone. On anyone else it wouldn’t be as nearly attractive as it was on you.

Everything looked good on you.

You shook your head. “S’okay,” you rasped, your voice hoarse. “‘M okay,” you added to Chris who looked worried. “I’m okay,” you added with a nod.

Deciding he was done stalling, Seungmin guided you back to lay on the bed, making sure you were positioned for Chris to be able to see your face. “Please Seungmin, please be careful with her,” Chris said as Seungmin repositioned himself between your thighs. He let out a heavy sigh and looked around until he saw your panties left discarded on the bed from when he removed them earlier.

A wicked smile formed as a thought crossed his mind. He leaned over, face inches from yours. “Do you want me to silence him? I can’t focus,” he whispered. You studied his face. “How?” You whispered back. Seungmin’s eyes looked to the side and you turned your head to see your panties in plain view.

You turned your head to meet his gaze and nodded once. Seungmin’s smile widened and he grabbed your panties before getting up and walking over to Chris.

“You’re distracting me,” he said plainly. Chris looked from you back up to Seungmin. “Okay and what exac-AH.” Chris’ words were cut off as Seungmin grabbed his chin, keeping his mouth open and shoved your panties inside.

“There, now you’ll be quiet,” Seungmin said with a light chuckle before returning to the bed. “Finally,” he said softly as he guided the tip of his cock, pressing against your wet slit. “Some goddamn peace and quiet.”

It wasn’t quiet for long as he pushed into you, the stretch of his cock more than you’d ever experienced with Chris making you gasp as he gave you each inch. “Fuck,” you cursed, ending in a moan as Seungmin bottomed out.

Your cunt squeezed around him, making his eyes flutter shut. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “This is better than I could have imagined,” he added, giving you a small thrust to make sure he was fully buried inside you.

“Ah, M-Minnie,” you whimpered. His cock twitched inside you, stomach twisting at the sound of the nickname you normally used on him. It would have a much different meaning for him after tonight and he would only be able to think about this night whenever he heard it now.

He started at a slow but steady pace, moving in and out of you carefully. Seungmin wasn’t a mean guy and he didn’t want to hurt you intentionally or unintentionally.

He kept his eyes on your face, studying it for any signs of discomfort. Experimentally, he gave you a much harder thrust, making you gasp in shock. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin. “Green?” He inquired, waiting for your response. You nodded. “Green.”

That was all he needed to begin a new, faster pace, thrusting into you harder. “God you look so fucking hot,” he groaned, keeping a firm hold on your hips. “Lying there and taking my whole cock. what a good little slut you are, baby,” he smirked.

You let out a loud moan, walls clenching around him as you lost yourself in your pleasure. Seungmin was probably the biggest cock you’d ever had. It wasn’t like the others were small, and especially not Chris. Your boyfriend was more than average in both length and girth but this was more girth.

In short, yes, he had a fat cock and you were taking it like a champ.

Chris kept his eyes on your face, watching your brow furrow and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. It was a look he’d seen many times. You were enjoying yourself and Seungmin was making you feel good.

His eyes trailed down your body, watching the way your chest bounced with each thrust. He continued down your body until his eyes landed on where your body and Seungmin’s connected.

He focused on the sound and sight of skin hitting skin as Seungmin fucked you. He knew his underwear probably had a stain on it and he really wanted to touch himself.

“He’s watching you, baby,” Seungmin called out softly, forcing your eyes to open, searching for Chris.

You turned your head and met Chris’ gaze. The sight of him sitting tied to the chair, your lace panties shoved in his mouth made your walls clench and you moaned, cumming on Seungmin’s cock as your eyes fluttered shut.

The sight of you cumming nearly drove Chris mad, wanting nothing more than to break his restraints and jerk himself off until he came all over his stomach.

Seungmin pulled out of you, grabbing your hips and rolling you over onto your stomach. “Come here,” he said softly, guiding you to lay on your stomach, facing Chris as Seungmin pushed his cock back into you from behind.

“Fuuuuck,” you hissed. Seungmin let out a grunt, pulling your hips up and resuming the same pace from before. His goal was to make you cum a second time before he finally finished.

This new position allowed him to sink even deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and making you moan and cry out with each hard thrust. “Doesn’t she look so good?” Seungmin asked, glancing up at Chris who had his eyes on your face.

He looked like he so desperately wanted to ask if you were okay. Chris was that kind of man. He needed to ask and confirm your comfort and pleasure. Seungmin went based on your body language.

And your body reacted well to him. Walls clenching as he pounded into you. You let out a loud yelp as Seungmin’s hand smacked your ass. “Color?” He asked, waiting for your answer. “G-green,” you whimpered, making Seungmin’s lips twitch at the corners. “Of course you like being spanked. God you really are a slut,” he scoffed, giving your ass another spank.

You cried out, the stinging pain overshadowed only by the pleasure of Seungmin’s cock filling your pussy. “You gonna cum for me again, baby?” You nodded, whimpering pathetically as your thighs shook.

“Good girl,” Seungmin groaned. “Does he make you cum multiple times, too?”

You nodded again. “Y-yes,” you sobbed, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you as your orgasm started to wash over you. “How many times?” Seungmin asked, watching as your back arched, pressing back against him as you came again.

“I asked you a question,” Seungmin growled, giving your ass another sharp smack. You cried out, cunt convulsing around his cock as his thrusts helped you ride out your high. “Here’s an easier question,” Seungmin said, taking hold of your hips again.

“Who has given you more orgasms in one night? Me or him?”

When you didn’t answer, Seungmin gave your ass another sharp smack, your body jolting from the impact and the pain. Chris watched your body tremble and writhe and wanted to check on you like he usually would at this point. He pulled against the restraints, muffled curses leaving his mouth.

“Answer me, baby,” Seungmin growled. “Y-you!” The word left your mouth in a choked sob, tears falling freely as the pain and pleasure mixed together. Your body jumped as you felt Seungmin’s hand rub your ass soothingly.

“Good girl,” he replied, driving his cock back into you at a relentless pace. “You’ve been so good for me tonight,” he added. “For that, I’m gonna reward you.”

You let out a whine as he chased his high, pounding into you from behind. “Chris said you’re on birth control, is that right?” Seungmin asked. How he was able to form coherent sentences, you’d never understand.

Here he was, drilling your cunt mercilessly with his cock and asking you simple questions like it was tea time on a Saturday. You nodded silently, unable to form a proper sentence as your mouth hung open wordlessly. Only mindless moans and whines left your lips with a small amount of spit as you drooled.

Seungmin was quite literally fucking you dumb.

“Good. Then you won’t mind if I finish inside you?” He waited for an objection from you. Chris already knew this was his plan, having spoken intensely about boundaries, though Seungmin had already pushed a couple of those by calling you ‘baby,’ something Chris called you daily.

You shook your head, still unable to speak. “I need to hear you say it,” Seungmin groaned. “Tell me you want me to cum inside you.”

You licked your dry lips and whimpered before finally speaking.

“G-give me your cum, Minnie!”

Driven over the edge by your request, Seungmin stilled, cock buried deep in your cunt as he came with quite possibly the hottest moan you’d ever heard, cock twitching as he emptied his load inside you.

The only sounds that could be heard were your labored breaths as you both came down from your respective highs. Chris’ eyes flickered from you to Seungmin and back. He couldn’t move and was waiting to be released.

Finally Seungmin pulled out of you with a hiss, looking down to watch his cum drip out of you and onto the sheets. “That’s not nice,” he murmured, using two fingers to push his cum back inside your cunt. “Keep that in there,” he added.

He got off the bed, grabbing his underwear and disappearing into the bathroom.

You wanted to move but you were afraid you’d make a mess all over the bed.

Seungmin returned a moment later, half dressed. ‘Where did he get pants from?’ You wondered as he walked over to Chris and pulled the panties out of his mouth. “Sorry about that,” he murmured sheepishly as he moved to untie Chris’ wrists.

Chris shook his head. “Don’t be. That was a nice touch,” he answered and you finally realized how much you missed your boyfriend’s voice. Chris rubbed his wrists and Seungmin disappeared again.

You felt Chris’ hands on your body, checking you over. “Are you alright, babe?” He asked softly. You leaned into his touch and nodded. “I just don’t want to make a mess on the bed,” you replied breathlessly.

Seungmin reappeared wearing a plain tee shirt and brushing his teeth. “Bathroom is free,” he murmured, a bit of toothpaste dribbling down his chin. Chris nodded and scooped you up, carrying you to the bathroom and helping you sit on the toilet. “Do you want to take a bath?” He asked, kneeling in front of you, brushing some of your hair out of your eyes.

You shook your head. “Tub’s too small. I’ll take a shower though.”

Seungmin entered the bathroom and finished brushing his teeth and packed up his stuff. “I’m gonna head back to the dorm,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked Chris who nodded, standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he said to you, giving your head a soft pat and followed Seungmin out of the bathroom.

You finished your business, taking care to wipe gently as you were still sore before you got into the shower and cleaned off.

You were getting into the bed, having already pulled off the top cover that Seungmin’s cum had undoubtedly already stained, when the door opened and Chris returned.

He entered the bedroom and smiled as you cuddled up under the blankets.

He quickly stripped, putting on his own pajamas and going about his routine, brushing his teeth before getting into the bed with you.

You curled into his side, sighing in content as his strong arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe and protected. “Seungmin said thank you again for tonight,” Chris said softly. “He also told me to apologize for calling you a slut.”

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “He has nothing to apologize for. Tonight was about him,” you answered. “Are you okay though?” You asked, looking up at him. Chris nodded, looking down where your head lay against his chest. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m okay.”

You shifted, moving your arm and brushed against your boyfriend’s crotch by accident and quickly sat up, pulling back the covers. “You’re still hard?” You asked, glancing up at him. He reached out to grab you.

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively. “It’ll pass.” You sat up again, shaking your head. “Let me,” you said, undoing the ties on his sweats. Chris tried to stop you, reaching for your hands. “Really, princess, it’s okay,” he replied.

You slipped your hand into his underwear, pulling his cock from inside, making him groan. “You’re probably tired,” Chris commented, inhaling sharply as you gave the tip of his cock a lick. “I’m fine,” you answered, taking his cock into your mouth.

“Shit,” Chris groaned. “How are you still able to go? After all that?” He asked. You pulled back, pulling his cock from your lips with a small pop. “I’m always ready for you,” you answered cheesily.

“Really,” Chris groaned as your hand worked up and down his length. “You don’t have to do anything.” You leaned forward kissing him softly, tongue tangling with his. “Shush,” you finally said.

“Seungmin got his turn. Now let me make you feel good.”

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