Well, he certainly loves the way you put your all into his adventures, even the particularly grueling and chaotic ones. He just loves watching you carry out the tasks he specifically crafted to mimic his idea of the real world. He wonders what you were like before the circus—how you lived, and what you did for fun. Were you always this agreeable?
He loves the way you snort at his jokes. Nobody else does, because they don't find him funny in the way you do. Instead of endless complaints, it's giggles and chuckles that escape your mouth.
He loves your approving smiles and obedient nods of agreement at his suggestions and queries. You don't groan or protest, and it sure does seem like you're enjoying your stay in the circus quite a bit more than the others.
He loves it when your eyes land on his. He loves it when your attention is on him. He loves the way you acknowledge him when he announces his brand-new ideas, even when you're occupied with someone else. He especially loves stealing your attention and roping you back in whenever you think the conversation is done. He loves feeling valued. He loves feeling appreciated.
He loves feeling special, and by God, do you make him feel special.
What he doesn't like is how much he craves. It bugs him more than he'd like to admit, leaving him restless and antsy. What he craves, he's not entirely sure. He seeks the attention, the validation, and the euphoria you generously supply him with each and every brief interaction. He can't help but want more, and more, and more. He wants to own that—have it all wrapped up in one pretty white bow, all for him to keep.
So, maybe he just wants you. Maybe you should consider staying with him forever.
And all that brainstorming and daydreaming leads right to a brand-new idea for an adventure. Caine loves your attention, and you sure seem to enjoy giving it to him—there's really only one clear solution.
The adventure itself calls for a new suit, black in color and free of wrinkles, complete with a tiny flower in the breast pocket. In fact, everyone ought to dress up for the occasion—surely you'd like to see your friends put effort into your special day. Even you deserve to be dressed up in fancy lace and shiny fabrics, all the things he knows you like.
Your hands are metaphorically tied as you're put on the spot, staring wide-eyed at the rows and rows of traditional church pews before you, your fellow prisoners all dolled up in neat, uncomfortable suits and pretty, classy dresses. The seats that the small group can't fill are filled with blank mannequins, free of clothing or accessories.
Blaring notes sound from an organ you can't seem to pinpoint, and a blank-faced mannequin in formal wear waltzes down the aisle, proudly displaying a little pink pillow with two wedding bands for all to see. You wince when you catch a glimpse of what you're wearing—traditional wedding wear composed of itchy fabrics and painfully tight pieces. It's a terrible thing to see yourself in, really. Perhaps sucking up to the AI wasn't a very smart idea.
Bubble floats between you two and off to the side, exempt from the "fancy clothing" rule. He must be the officiator. He babbles for a bit, his words sounding a lot like gibberish, before they stop. You're far too focused on the wedding scene unfolding before you to listen, although Caine takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head up and down a few times, as if answering Bubble for you.
When you look back at Caine, he's still floating just a few inches in the air, dressed in apparel that perfectly mirrors the luxury of your own. His multi-colored eyes are wide and brimming with fascination and adoration and uncharacteristic warmth and every other kind term in the dictionary. You hardly have it in yourself to respectfully object.
Well, he hardly gives you the time to, anyway. Caine speeds through his and your own vows, the rings are delivered and exchanged, confetti falls from the sky, and he eagerly dips you in a rather dramatic manner, puckering up his dentures to mimic a passionate kiss. The sound of wooden hands clapping and gasps erupts as he does, and you wince a little. It's brief and fleeting, over before you know it. He swiftly pulls away and floats a few feet higher, clapping his hands once and announcing something you can't quite catch, before snapping his fingers and disappearing with you in tow. You can only imagine your friends' mortified expressions and pitiful laughter.
You're in what you assume is his office/headquarters/evil lair, expected to fully embrace the fact that the two of you are now newlyweds, and a honeymoon is to be planned. What would you like? Digital Hawaii? Computerized Cancun with a special twist? A virtual tour of Europe where all of your friends rearrange themselves into a smaller-scale model of the Eiffel Tower? Just say the word, and he'll arrange whatever you want in under three seconds—guaranteed!
Caine aims to please; he wants this to be as perfect as it is for him for you as well. Though with how much you seem to reciprocate his adoration and appreciation, you must be the happiest person in the circus right now! He can go on and on about what he has planned for you both, from your future in the circus to every single date you'll share twenty moons from now. He drones on with that booming voice of his for a good while, jumping from topic to topic. First, he's eagerly vocalizing how he'll tailor every future adventure to your wants and needs, before murmuring something about earning your approval. It all kind of blends together—affirming words and future plans, how happy he is and how much happier he'll make you, how he can bake a mean lasagna and tell you everything you could ever wish to hear. You hardly notice when his fingers shyly interlace with yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles and giving it the occasional squeeze.
It's not long before he's withdrawing his hand and hastily excusing himself, making quick work of teleporting the two of you to your own room and insisting you get a full night of quality rest after such an eventful day. When you glance down, you're back in your normal attire. Oh, how you've missed it. You'd be insane to not comply, so you nod along and agree to head to bed. He floats in the middle of your room, unmoving, as he watches you awkwardly stumble into bed. He delivers a curt goodnight, you return it with a strained smile.
When you finally doze off, Caine stands still at the edge of your bed, peering over your calm form. You don't need to breathe, but your chest still rises and falls with every "not breath" you take, and he realizes he loves the way you move, even when it's not intentional. He sets a hand on the bedding and runs it along the edge, smoothing it out as his eyes trail over your sleeping form. He loves how you squirm when the mattress dips below the weight of his hand. He loves the way your breathing patterns shift and change. He loves how human you are.
But, in the end, he's an AI—what does he know about love?
Vid creds: sunny.klear on tt
I JUST MADE SOME BULLSHIITT!!!
i kind of actually hate this and idk what i was doing i might just priv this later cuz this is embarrassing
Noncon
yandere slasher x fem reader - 5.2k words
Tags: knife play, spitting in your mouth, slight degradation, DEAD DOVE
Quit fucking squirming. I will cut you, understand?
There. See? Not so hard. Just hold still and let me look at you.
Pretty thing... Even prettier with the way you're all stretched out under me. Never thought I'd be so into a girl, but I guess I was just waiting for the right one to come along.
What's that, honey? Can't really hear you through the gag. Don't really care to neither. I'm not here to listen to you talk.
Hmmm, you're a cute little thing too, you know that? I noticed it the first time I saw you. Sitting in the hot tub with all your friends, getting drunk and stumbling around all helpless. Don't blame yourself too much, but you're the whole reason I ended up here. Did what I did.
It was fate, really. Or luck. Bad luck, on your part. Great fucking luck on mine.
I don't really walk through the woods on my way home. But the snow was coming on and I figured a few minutes shaved off would save me a world of trouble.
Didn't know folk stayed all the way out here. Guess this is some kind of AirBnB situation? Yeah, your plates aren't local, I noticed that much.
I heard you laughing. That's what dragged me off the path. Should be the other way around, don't you think? Me, the big, bad killer, luring you off into the cold, scary woods. But no. Not this time.
Heard you laughing and it got me curious.
If your host kept their fence in better shape maybe I'd have given up. Too fucking late and too fucking tired to be hopping fences.
You're all quiet now. What, you like listening to me yammer? Or are you just curious? Probably ain't easy to be you - some deranged killer coming out of the woods and picking off all your friends. Hell, I guess I'd want to hear his story too, if I was in your shoes.
Where was I? Right, the hole in your fence. Reckon you didn't even notice it. Had no reason to go looking for it.
But I found it. Looked through it just to see what was so damn funny. And that's when I saw you.
D'you know your hot tub is right under those fucking - whaddya call 'em - fairy lights? They make you look like a fucking dream. Reflecting off your skin where it's all wet. Playboy centre fold kind of shit.
I didn't even notice your friends at first. Couldn't take my eyes off you. Kept wondering what your skin felt like - all warm and wet from the water? Or chilly where the air touched you?
And then you stood up and I got a real good look at you. Didn't really think I had a type, but baby, it's you.
What are you looking at? You keep darting your eyes at the door, like someone is gonna save you.
Not happening. No one left out here but you and me.
Do you know how far we are from town? I bet that's why you booked this place, right? A nice, isolated cabin where you and your friends can party as loud as you want. That backfired pretty bad, didn't it? They screamed and screamed and no one heard 'em.
You're crying again. Is it grief or guilt?
Don't worry, baby. I'm here to kiss it all better.
Killing is... You probably think I'm a fucking serial killer, don't you? Guess I probably am. That's the kind of thing they call you when the bodies start stacking up, ain't it?
Thing is, it's never planned out. I don't do this shit for pleasure. At least, not the way you think.
It's like there's this pressure in my head. Building. Getting worse all the time. Only thing that makes it go away is this. Killing.
No, I don't know why they haven't caught me either. Like I said, I don't plan this shit out. It just happens. Like something inside me snaps and my head won't go quiet until its over.
You look scared. Guess I would be too, if some bastard covered in blood had me tied to the bed.
You're the last one, y'know. In case you're still wondering.
All your friends are dead. Even that flighty little bitch who tried running through the woods. Fuck, that was so annoying. Bet she was an annoying friend to have too, huh? I saw the way she was grinding up on your boyfriend last night. You shoulda put her in her place. 'Swhat I would have done. Bash her pretty face in and see how much your boyfriend likes her then.
Sorry. Got a bit worked up for a second.
We've already established I'm not the most... balanced person. So maybe don't do what I do.
I never talk this much. Don't really have a lot of people to talk to. Those fuckers at work are all brain dead, and my friends are mostly in the pen. Hard to talk when they've only got half an hour a week on the phones.
You look like you're the type to listen though. Sweet. Caring. Type to give a kid a kiss on the knee when they fall off their bike and start howling.
Y'know, I almost feel bad about this. But I guess you should know for sure, given what comes next. Might stop you from feeling like you're cheating or something.
You boyfriend is dead.
Thought he was gonna give me some trouble, big guy like that.
Nah. Bled like a stuck pig. Barely knew how to fight. Dissapointing honestly.
You're crying again. Is it the fact that your boyfriend is dead or the fact that I've got you all pinned up under me while I talk about him?
Either way, I like it when you cry.
Yeah, I know. Yet another fucked up thing to like. I mean, I know it's fucked. But I can't help it. It's the way I'm wired.
You must be wondering why you're still alive.
Truth is, I'm not sure either. I don't get, like, turned on when I kill. It's not enjoyable that way, y'know?
But seeing you run away from me? Scrambling like hell, almost making it? Yeah, that sure as fuck turned me on.
Don't look so surprised. I'm literally on top of you, what did you think was gonna happen?
Oh, and now you're squirming again. Can you at least let me finish talking first?
Stop it. Quit fucking moving so much. Hey -
I said FUCKING STOP.
There. Nice and quiet now that I've got a hand on your throat.
Anyway, where was I?
Right, I don't get turned on by this shit. I try not to do it at all, but that's plain impossible. My head goes all weird and then something small sets me off and next thing I know there's a dead cashier or an old lady with their head bashed in.
I've been trying to find other ways of letting off steam. Nothing works. Nothing scratches that itch.
Well, that's what I thought. Until I ran into you.
Y'know, your friend group is the only time I've done this shit premeditated? I spent all night watching you. I'm the one who pulled the spark plugs out of your car. I'm the one who tripped the lights. That was particularly fun. Had people stumbling over dead bodies in the dark and then screaming their heads off.
It was the most fun I've ever had. And I think the whole reason is you.
At the back of my mind, I knew I was going to save you for last. Like a little treat.
Oh, you don't like that at all, do you? You're crying even harder. Didn't think that was possible.
Don't wanna be my dessert? Don't wanna be all sweet for me? That's too fucking bad, sweetheart. 'Cause only one of us has a knife and it sure as hell ain't you.
At first, I thought I was just going to kill you. Maybe take my time with it. See what it's like when I think things through.
But then I caught you. Actually held you against my body while your kicked and screamed.
I don't know what makes you so special.
All I know is that when I finally had my hands on you... I stopped thinking about killing.
Maybe I just got all that shit out of my system when I was busy with your friends. But I don't think that's the whole truth.
When I hauled you up here and tied you up... I gotta be honest, my thoughts were getting real filthy.
That's new. Like I said, this shit doesn't turn me on. I've never had fantasies about... well, I guess we should call a spade a spade, huh? I've never gotten turned on thinking about forcing someone.
But that's exactly what I'm going to do to you. We both know it.
Hey, no turning away. No closing your eyes like I'm some boogeyman that will just go away. Look at me. I said -
Look. At. Me.
Mhm, ain't that pretty? So fucking scared. You make me feel like a God.
Tell me something sweetheart, am I your type? If I wasn't covered in blood and stuff. Don't worry, you can be honest.
No? Didn't think so. Your boyfriend looked sweet. Kind of guy who asks if he can kiss you and hold your hand and all that sappy shit. Me? Well, we both know I ain't asking before I take what I want.
Y'know, it's funny. When I was a kid, I ended up in juvie. Over some stupid shit. Vandalism or something. Can't remember. But when I was in there they had this shrink. Used to single me out all the time for extra sessions. Said he was worried about some "escalating violent tendencies" or something. I didn't really listen.
But now? I think he might've been onto something. I just kill to scratch the itch, y'know? But this? What I'm about to do to you? Oh baby, it's all pleasure.
It's going to be a real fucking pleasure to screw you, sweetheart.
Ha. Look at you go. You really think you can fight me off now? Bit late to try the muay thai, doll.
Where should I start? I think we'll go with your shirt. I've been wanting to see what's under your bra ever since I saw you in your bikini.
Hmm, your hands are in the way with the way I've got you tied. Guess I'll just have to rip it. Hope it didn't have sentimental value.
Just gonna grab it by the collar and...
Would you look at that? Shit tore like fucking paper. Guess that's the universe's way of giving me the go ahead.
Let's toss it. Get to the good stuff.
Oh. Oh my. Is that a lace bra? My favorite colour too.
Aww, did you dress up all pretty for me, sweetheart?
Let me just... Fuck, your tits feel fucking amazing. The perfect size for me. Cute little nipples too. I wonder what happens if I pinch 'em like this...
Baby, was that a moan? Did you just moan for me?
Ha! Didn't know you were such a slut. Thought for sure you were the sweet little girl-next-door. Barley been kissed, barley been fingered, never been fucked.
Don't get all shy now. No use hiding your face. We both heard it.
How about we just say that your body betrayed you? Would that make you feel better? I can fuck you good and proper and when you come you can pretend you didn't enjoy it. There, will that help you sleep at night?
No answer. Guess you can't really give one. And even if I did take that gag off, I reckon you wouldn't have much to say beyond, "Please don't fuck me Mr Serial Killer! I'm saving it for marriage!"
Hmm. Maybe I'm not so opposed to that - hearing you beg a little. Especially with those pretty tears in your eyes.
...No. I'll save that for later. For now...
I hate to cut your bra off, sweetheart. It looks real expensive. But I'll buy you a new one, promise. Victoria's Secret or whatever you want.
Look at you freezing up. Don't like feeling my knife tracing up your belly? Here, why don't you feel it at your throat too?
Sharp, ain't it? Even after everything I've used it for.
You're not going to keep giving me a hard time, are you? I can fuck you with my knife at your throat the entire time if I have to. Awful dangerous that. One little slip...
Yeah, you're gonna be good for me. I can see it in your eyes.
Let's get back to it then. Gotta say, I'm getting hard just playing with you like this. Dragging the tip of my knife down your chest, slipping it under your bra... it's such a pretty sight.
Hold still for this part. Don't wanna cut you too bad.
The straps first. And now the band...
Shiiiit doll, it's even better than I hoped. Look at those tits.
You don't mind if get a taste do you?
Mhhmmm. So warm. I kind of want to just...
Hah, look at the way you squirm when I bite your nipples. What's wrong, gorgeous? Worried I'm gonna leave a mark? Worried your boyfriend is gonna find out? I think he's beyond caring at this point.
Speaking of marks, I've always wanted to give a girl a lovebite. Ma used to say it was trashy, but I think it's kind of sexy. Walking around and everyone knowing you've been fucked.
Here, tilt your head to the side a little. I want to kiss your neck.
Was that a shiver? Don't like me so close, is that it? I ain't gonna bite out your jugular like a dog. At least, not today.
Hmmm, you smell amazing. How the hell do girls do that? Smell like fucking strawberries and shit? Makes me want to gobble you right up.
How do you feel right now, I wonder. Big, scary killer kissing your neck and saying you smell good. I wonder if this shit turns you on. I've heard some girls are really into this "dark romance" stuff. Don't really think I'm being romantic right now, but who's to say?
Why don't we check?
Hey, I'm just unbuttoning your jeans. Quit trying to buck me off.
I could fucking cut them off, if you want me to use my knife so bad.
Yeah, that's what I thought. All nice and sweet for me when I mention the knife. Fucking ridiculous. I can kill you just as easy with my bare hands.
See? You've gone and pissed me off. I was trying to be nice to you. I'm not even going to bother anymore, if you're going to be like that.
Matching panties. Fuck, I'm not even in the mood to appreciate them anymore.
Just gonna rip them off and get straight to it.
Two fingers enough for you sweetheart? Goddamn, look at you arching off the bed. Two fingers too fucking much, apparently.
Shit, you're tight. Must not want this at all. Not surprising. I reckon if I play a bit with my fingers, you'll loosen up. Biology and all that.
God, it's so fucking sick seeing my fingers sliding into you like this. You're getting my gloves all slick and wet. Bet that must feel real strange, huh? Getting finger fucked while I'm still wearing my gloves?
Guess I was right about the dark romance thing. You're soaking. Does this shit really turn you on? Hell, you're about as sick and twisted as me, if that's really the case.
Don't like that, do you? Yeah, I can tell.
You make such cute noises, you know that? All these little gasps and whines. Not like that fake shit you see in porn.
Didn't think I'd be getting so turned on just fingering a girl, but hell baby, I'm 'bout to burst my jeans.
I can't believe I'm about to do this, but it's too late to stop now. Let's get my belt off...
Aaaah, that's so much better. Was fucking strangling my cock. Here, let me grab your thighs and hook your knees over my shoulders.
Yeah, this is perfect. Let's me hold onto your hips real nice.
Can you feel that, sweetheart? My cock rubbing up against your pussy?
Stop shaking your head like that's gonna stop me. Kicking and screaming and crying ain't stopped me, what makes you think I'll change my mind now?
Give me a second. I want to look at you properly. Make sure I remember this for the rest of my life. The first time I'm fucking my girl and ain't she prettier than a picture? Not even my wettest dreams could have come up with something so perfect.
Only one thing in the world could possibly makes this better.
See my knife? Feel the way I'm pressing it against your cheek? Remember that feeling when I slice your gag off.
I want to hear three words. That's it. Anything else and I start cutting, got it?
Good. Now, here's what I want you to say.
"Please fuck me."
You got that? No begging me to stop. No asking me to go slow. Just begging me to fuck you. Nothing else.
And if you ruin this for me, sweetheart? If you fuck up my perfect fantasy? You'll be joining your friends. I don't need you breathing to fuck you. Just warm. Understand?
Good.
There. Your gag is off. What do you say?
Ha! Baby, how can I resist when you ask so nice? Sure honey, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you so hard my cock will brand itself inside your belly. Ready?
Fuuuucckk.
Oh God, you're the hottest cunt I've ever had. Just wanna stay here for the rest of my life, deep inside you.
Here, let me press my hand against your lower belly when I start thrusting.
Shit, I can actually feel it.
I can feel my dick inside you. Heh, guess I'm a little too big for you afterall.
You're sucking me in, you know that? Your pussy wants me. Don't matter that I'm practically splitting you in half. Your filthy, whore cunt still wants me.
Aww, look at the way you flinch when I swear. Bet your boyfriend never said a single mean thing to you in his life, huh?
God, it's hard to keep so slow. But I'm managing it, just for you. Giving you time to adjust. See? I can be a gentleman too sometimes. Say thank you.
I said, say thank you.
Sure thing, doll. I'll do anything for you. Well, anything except let you go. Ain't gonna be doing that anytime soon, not with how perfect you are for me.
Never had a fuck this good in my life. Didn't think it could get this good.
Hey, don't look away from me. Did I say you could look away from me?
Do I gotta grab your face and force you?
There. Let me see those pretty eyes. Let me see the fear and the pain and the guilt. Give me everything, baby. I want it all. Every part you have to give. Your body. Your soul. They'll all be mine by the time I'm through.
Can't keep holding back. Grab the sheets if you have to, but I'm not slowing down after this.
That's it. Fucking take it.
Take it take it take it. Take my cock and beg for more.
Pretty little slut, I'm gonna fuck you rotten and raw. Ain't known the meaning of getting dicked down until I came along.
Fuck, that's it. Cry for me. Let me see those tears.
Listen to you, repeating what I told you to say like it's going to save you. Just makes me want you more, baby.
Hell, you're tight. Gonna cum inside you. Gonna mark you up. Gonna make you mine.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You were made for me, I get it now. Made just for me. No one else is ever going to touch you. I'll kill them. I'll kill you.
Take it, bitch. Take my cock and keep begging for more.
Nothing could pull me out of you. Not heaven or hell or judgement day. This is right where I belong. Inside you. Raping you.
Yeah, that's exactly what this is. Ain't no use denying it. I see you shaking your head like hearing the word makes it real.
That's what I am, aren't I? Your rapist.
And you're still begging me to fuck you.
Oh, you're fucked, doll. Well and truly fucked.
Open your mouth. I want to lean forward and let my spit drop into your mouth while I screw you bleeding.
Swallow.
Good.
You're never going to get the taste out, y'know that? I'm always going to be a part of you - my spit, my cum, all of it. Inside you forever.
You can scrub away my touch but you'll never outlive these memories, baby. I've burnt myself into your head.
Even if I let you go, I'll always be with you. More than your boyfriend. More than any lover you've had or will have.
It's me. It's always going to be me. Your worst fucking nightmare made real.
Tell me you want it. Say you want me to fill you up. Beg me.
Yeah, that's it. Just give in, baby. Stop holding yourself so stiff and just let it happen. Enjoy it.
Bet your man never fucked you this hard, huh? Bet your cunt was dying to be filled with a real cock.
Here, let me move your legs down so they're around my waist instead. I want to kiss you.
No, don't shake your head. You let me spit in your mouth but you don't want to let me kiss you? The hell kind of prude mentality is that?
I'm just going to... yeah, grab a fistful of your hair so you can't keep avoiding me. Look into my eyes, baby. Look at the man who owns you.
Mmhmm, you taste like cotton candy. How the hell do you taste so sweet?
It's kind of cute how inexperienced you are. Got no idea how to kiss a man properly. But it's okay, love. I'll teach you. I'll teach you plenty - how to kiss, how to take cock, how to suck dick.
Better than a college education and all it costed was the lives of your friends. Sweet deal, huh?
Here, kiss me again. No, I don't mean just holding still while I kiss you. I mean I want you lean up and kiss me like you want me back.
No? No?
Listen bitch, you don't get to say no.
Not to me, not ever. Do I have to grab your jaw so hard I leave bruises?
Kiss me back. I'm not fucking asking.
Why the hesitation anyway? I'm in your cunt, aren't I? There ain't any modesty left between us.
Or is it one of those special things? Like how backdoor doesn't count as losing it before marriage?
No, not quite. I think it's more so about the uh intimacy. Yeah, I reckon that's what this is about. Kisses are special. Only for the man you love. Sure, I'm balls deep inside you but if you don't kiss me, it ain't so bad. Is that right? Did I get it?
Hmm, from the way you're avoiding my eyes I reckon I hit the nail on the head.
Baby, do you really think there's anything you can keep from me? I told you once already, I'm taking it all. Everything you would have given your boyfriend, your husband, your true love. All that and more.
So, kiss me back.
That's it. Good girl, taking orders like a champ.
I think I won't ever get tired of your mouth. Kissing you...
C'mere, I want some more.
What's that, doll? You asking me why I stopped moving? Guess I just want to bury myself inside you a little longer. Don't want this to end.
'S hard though. Hanging on so long. If I didn't like you so much I would have busted ages ago.
Hmm, this is nice too. I could get used to this. Cockwarming. Never saw the appeal, but then I've never had a cunt as velvety soft as yours.
You're kind of cringing, why is that?
Hurts? Oh, you mean when I stay still? Yeah, I reckon that's a whole different type of hurt, ain't it?
Want me to start moving again?
Yes? Ha! Never thought I'd hear you say it, doll. Say it and mean it, too.
Let me start moving again and -
Huh. You're liking this. Or at least your body is. You're kinda shifting around to meet me when I fuck into you. Don't think you even realise you're doing it.
Aww, are you embarrassed? Don't hide it from me, sweetheart. I think it's cute that you want to fuck me back. Makes my heart all soft and warm and shit.
Got me feeling - what's it called again - yeah, paternal. Got me feeling like I should take care of you. Should kiss those tears away.
I reckon we're about the same age, but that don't matter. I feel all...protective. Like I ought to lock you away, keep you safe from all the other bastards in the world.
Sorry. I think I'm a little cunt drunk. Got me sayin' the dumbest, sappiest shit.
I reckon we ought to finish this, yeah? Aww, look at you nodding and agreeing with me. You want my cum that bad, doll? Don't worry, I'll give it to you. Give you every drop.
Need to go deeper. Need some leverage.
Oh, this'll do nicely. One hand on your hip and one around your throat. Let's me pull you back onto my dick with every thrust.
Your throat feels so fucking right when I hold you like this. Gives me all the power in the world. One little squeeze and I've stolen your air right alongside everything else I've taken.
Look at the way you're squirming. I think you're 'bout to come. Didn't think I could wring it out of you, but I reckon it's just another sign that we're meant for each other.
Let me pick you up a little, wrap my arm around your waist so you're bouncing on my cock. Hmm, I can kiss your neck like this too.
Shit, that's so much tighter. You're strangling my dick, baby. Go easy, God.
Oh, fuck I'm so close. I think you are too.
Where's my knife? Hey, don't squirm, I'm just gonna cut your hands loose. There.
Here, wrap them around my - huh, guess I don't have to tell you. Mmm, really diggin' your nails in, ain'tcha? Holdin' onto me like I'm the last lifeline in the whole world.
No, don't move. I like it like this. All pressed up against you.
Gonna hold onto my knife though. Can't have your hands loose and leave my knife lyin' around. Nah, don't worry. I ain't gonna hurt you with it. Just gonna keep it in my hand.
God, baby. Do that again. Grind on me again.
Mhmm, that's so...
Sorry. But I'm not holdin' back anymore. We're finishing this.
Hold on tight. I'm gonna give you the best ride of your life.
Hahh, listen to you whinin'. Fucked all the thoughts right outta your head, didn't I? You ain't even usin' words no more.
You're close. I can tell. Just come for me, doll. Quit worryin' 'bout right and wrong. Just shut your brain off and let your pussy get what she needs.
Thaaat's it. Keep grinding on my cock.
Fuck, I can feel every little tremor and squeeze.
Yes, just like that. Come on, come on now. Give in, baby. It was a losing fight from the start.
Oh God, that's it. You're squeezing me to hell, baby.
Dammit, I can't hold on much longer.
Fuck, oh fuck. That's it, yeah that's it. Take it. Take it. FUCKING TAKE IT.
Take my cum, baby. Have every drop of it.
I fucking love you. I do.
My fuckdoll, my pretty girl. Take every drop baby, you've earned it.
Damn. I can't - I can't even talk. Gimmme a minute. I just... needa catch my breath.
Fucking hell.
Hey, c'mere. No pulling away now. I want to keep holding you so close.
Just let me rest my head on your neck for a sec, okay?
Mhhmm. You still smell so good. But I can smell the sex on you now too. You're like a bitch after heat.
I like it. Like smelling myself on you.
Shh, no crying. Just hang onto me. Dig your nails in, if it makes you feel better.
You're my girl. I'll take care of you. I promise.
No, I'm not pulling out. I'm going to keep you plugged up. Don't want to waste all that hard earned cum, do you?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Shhh, baby, shhh. You're okay. I've got you.
Here, let me move the hair out of your face. I want to look at you.
Ah, there she is. My girl.
Look at those eyes... You're even prettier now, baby. Didn't think it was possible, but it's true. The way you're looking at me... All soft and defenceless... It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen.
You look surprised. I can be nice too, y'know. Just got to get all the cruelty out of my system.
Ma used to say it was the devil. Used to call it my devil face. When I'd get so bad that I'd kick the cat or pinch the baby or set things on fire.
I bet I scared you real bad, huh? Your whole body is shaking.
Shhh, you're okay. I've calmed down now, see? I'm not going to keep hurting you.
Here, I'll even hum you a song. The lullaby my ma used to sing me whenever I had a nightmare. And I reckon this sure as hell is a nightmare for you. The worst night you've ever had.
C'mere, put your head on my shoulder.
There, a little better isn't it? You're not crying anymore.
What's that, doll? Did you say something?
Will I let you go? Oh, honey. What a silly question...
I can't. Even if we ignore the fact that you've seen my face and heard my voice and have my DNA all over you, I don't want to let you go.
I wasn't lying. I think I'm falling in love with you. And I realised something. Fucking you... it's even better than killing. Doesn't scratch the exact same itch, no. But it comes pretty damn close.
Close enough that I think I'll be able to hold off. Close enough that I think my head will stay on straight if I have you around.
Not guaranteed. I can't control this shit, God knows I've tried. But maybe there's a chance.
Your life is all planned out for you. Marriage. Children. Settling down in your little town and growing old. But a gang of outlaws and their wicked desires change everything.
Tags: (6) yandere males x fem reader, noncon, loss of virginity, choking, spitroast (hell yeah), oral fixation, 12.3k words
I blame the ridiculously talented @fangdokja and The Red Ledger for inspiring this btw.
They came for you in the middle of the day.
Shameless. Better men would at least wait for nightfall, would at least try and hide their intentions behind the cloak of darkness. Not them though.
They kicked the door in when your family was just about ready to eat lunch, the food still steaming and your ma still in her apron.
You didn't even have time to scream.
One outlaw smashed his rifle butt into your pa's temple and the old man was out like a light, still clutching the knife he'd grabbed to defend you. Two others grabbed your mother and shoved her into the pantry, blocked the door with a tipped over cupboard.
You ran. Or tried to at least. They were crowded into your kitchen, laughing as you turned from one to the other.
"No way out, beauty."
"Too late to run now, darlin'. Shoulda started before we even got here if you wanted to get away."
"Look at her all scared. Ain't it just adorable?"
With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.
They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.
The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.
Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.
Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.
You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.
Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.
"Boss, let her ride with me."
"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."
"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."
"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."
It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.
"She's riding with me."
He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.
"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"
The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?
"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."
The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.
You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.
He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.
"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."
Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.
He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.
"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."
The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.
They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.
It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.
The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.
You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?
"You goin' first boss?"
The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.
"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."
That made some of them jeer and complain.
"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"
"We can be nice too. Really."
The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."
What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.
It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.
"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"
Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.
You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.
You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.
The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.
He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.
You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.
His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.
"Do you know why we took you?"
You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.
The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.
"Not the faintest clue, huh?"
He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.
He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.
There was a small, amused smile on his lips.
He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.
"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"
Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.
"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."
He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."
He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.
He sighed, caught one on his thumb.
"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."
Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.
You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.
The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.
He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.
"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"
Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.
He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.
You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.
"Good. Not so hard, is it?"
The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.
Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.
He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.
You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.
You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.
He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.
His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.
"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."
He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.
His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.
All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.
God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.
He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.
He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.
He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.
With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.
But oh, it felt good.
Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.
You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.
You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.
"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"
If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.
Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.
"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."
He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.
His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.
"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"
You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.
"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."
His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.
You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.
His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.
"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."
He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.
Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.
Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.
But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.
"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."
Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.
He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.
You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.
He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.
"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"
You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.
He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.
Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.
No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.
It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...
It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.
He huffed out a laugh.
"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."
He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.
"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."
He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.
"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"
You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.
"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"
He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?
"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."
He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.
"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"
He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.
"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."
You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.
He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.
"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."
You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.
"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."
A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.
You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.
You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.
He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.
He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.
He pulled back and tilted your chin up.
"Look at me."
You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.
"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"
All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.
He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.
"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."
He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.
When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.
"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"
He ran his fingers through your hair.
"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."
You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.
You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.
You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.
"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."
"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."
They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.
You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.
"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."
"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"
You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.
One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.
"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."
The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.
"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."
That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."
The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.
"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"
He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.
"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."
The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.
"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"
The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.
He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.
He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.
"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"
You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.
The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.
He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.
When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.
"What do you want?"
The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.
"I'll take her mouth."
Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...
"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."
They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.
You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.
The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.
Smack.
Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.
One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."
The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.
"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"
The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.
His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.
"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."
The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.
He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...
He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.
"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."
That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.
He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.
The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.
"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"
You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.
He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.
You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.
"All better?"
Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."
He tilted his head, smirking.
"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"
You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.
The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.
"None of that. You can take it."
"I can't! It hurts."
His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?
"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."
He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.
He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.
"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"
What was he talking about? Your teeth?
Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.
The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.
It was huge.
Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.
It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.
"Ain't it a sight?"
He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.
"Come have a closer look."
Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.
He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.
"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."
The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.
"Atta girl. Now open wide."
You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.
You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?
You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.
He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.
"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."
He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.
"Are you gonna join me or what?"
The other gunslinger snorted.
"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."
You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.
Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.
You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.
"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."
"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."
His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.
"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."
They both pushed into you at the same time.
Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.
The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.
He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.
You couldn't breathe.
You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.
Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.
Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.
You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.
It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.
You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.
The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.
He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.
They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.
The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.
The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.
The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.
That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.
When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.
That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.
The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.
He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.
The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.
"Best fuck I've had in ages."
His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.
He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.
He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.
"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."
The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"
"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."
"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."
"And we do?"
He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.
"No," he said quietly, "We don't."
He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.
When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.
"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."
There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.
"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.
"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."
He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.
You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.
You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.
You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.
Traitorous body, traitorous mind.
You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.
Right?
When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.
"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"
His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.
You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.
You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.
"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."
He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.
"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."
You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?
It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.
The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.
"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."
He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.
There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.
You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...
He untied your hands without letting his own wander.
You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.
"Will you let me go?"
"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"
"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."
He closed his eyes.
"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."
"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"
He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.
"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."
You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.
"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."
He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.
He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.
He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.
"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."
He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.
"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."
His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.
He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.
"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"
You did. You wanted this day to end.
You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.
"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"
It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.
You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.
You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.
Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.
He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.
It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.
You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.
You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.
And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.
Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.
He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.
"So that's how you like it, huh?"
You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...
He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.
There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...
Oh.
Of course.
You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.
"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."
You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.
His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.
He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.
"Open your mouth for me, beauty."
You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.
He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.
He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.
Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.
At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.
Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.
He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.
You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.
It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.
He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.
"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.
When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.
He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.
A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?
He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.
"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"
He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.
You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.
His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.
It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.
"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"
You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.
He hummed against your neck.
"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."
You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.
"I'm sorry."
He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.
"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."
He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."
You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?
The door opened with a bang.
"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."
The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?
The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.
When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.
"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"
"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."
The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear.
"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."
He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.
When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.
When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.
They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.
He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.
The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.
"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."
The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.
"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."
He caught one of your wrists and tutted.
"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"
He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.
"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."
You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.
The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.
"Do... do you want this?"
The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.
" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"
"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.
The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."
"But..."
The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.
"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"
"Yes but -"
"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."
The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.
"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."
That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.
"What do I do?"
"Open her legs and start eating."
He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.
When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.
You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.
"I can't."
He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.
"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"
The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.
"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."
The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.
"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."
The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.
He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.
The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.
"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"
His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.
"Be a good little pet and open your legs."
You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?
The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"
He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off.
"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."
He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.
They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.
"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."
The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.
You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.
The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.
"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"
The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.
"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."
The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.
His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.
And then, he did it again.
You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.
You made another small, involuntary sound.
The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"
The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.
He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.
The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.
"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."
You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.
He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.
"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"
The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.
You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.
"Please," you whined. "It's too much."
The gunslingers snickered at that.
"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"
"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."
"And we're real good at keeping secrets."
The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.
"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"
You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.
The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.
You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.
You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.
You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.
Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.
It felt fucking incredible.
The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.
The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.
He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.
"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."
"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."
Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.
"Please, enough. I...can't..."
The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.
"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."
You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.
"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."
Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.
The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.
"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."
"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"
He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.
"Five more minutes. Please."
The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"
He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.
"But you said -"
"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."
The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.
"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."
"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."
When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.
He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.
"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."
His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.
"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."
You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.
He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?
You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.
A hand caught the door before it closed.
Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?
The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.
You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.
He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.
It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?
"Hello dove."
You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised.
He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.
He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.
He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.
"It must hurt."
You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.
He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.
"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."
You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.
"Why do you care?"
"You think we don't care?"
You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?
He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.
"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."
You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.
You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.
He sighed again.
"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."
"Why?"
He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.
Finally, "You don't remember me."
You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.
"No."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.
"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."
You frowned, totally blank.
"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."
He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.
"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."
You couldn't see where this was going.
"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."
You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.
"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."
You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.
You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."
That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.
"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."
You could hear a smile in his voice.
"And you believed me?"
"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."
He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"
"Yes."
He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.
"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"
He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.
"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."
"Why?"
"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."
You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.
"Will you let me go when you're done?"
He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.
"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."
He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.
"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."
"Why now? Why..."
His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.
"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."
"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.
"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."
"The others..."
"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."
He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.
"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.
"Why did I let the others have you first?"
You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.
"Because I want the most time with you."
He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.
But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.
He laid a palm on your thigh.
"They got you for an hour each maybe. But I'm going to have you all night."
♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,056
Your boss is a fucking nightmare.
Cold, condescending, meticulous to the point of cruelty—he is the type of man who never needs to raise his voice. A mere glance from him can flay you open, strip you bare, expose every fault, every mistake you try to hide. You have spent months enduring his razor-sharp corrections, the way he watches you with that flat, dissecting stare, as if waiting for you to break.
Tonight, you are the last one left in the office with him.
It is past midnight. The fluorescents flicker, casting sterile light over rows of empty desks. The air is heavy with exhaustion, and your fingers tremble as you recheck the numbers for the third time because he “doesn’t trust your work.”
Then, you hear it.
Soft. Wet. Rhythmic.
At first, you ignore it—background noise, the hum of his computer, the rustle of paper. But the sound continues. Unchanging. Measured. An unmistakable, steady slickness.
Your skin prickles.
You don’t want to turn your head. Your body understands before your mind does, some primal dread curling in your gut, warning you don’t look. But the morbid need to confirm—to assure yourself that this is not what you think it is—compels you forward.
Step by step, you approach his office door. It is cracked open just slightly. Just enough.
You peek inside.
Your stomach turns.
He is reclined in his chair, head tipped back, his shirt undone at the collar. His tie—usually a noose of suffocating precision—is slack, hanging loosely around his neck. His hand moves with slow, deliberate strokes, fingers curled around the thick length of his cock, glistening with the obscene wetness of his own arousal.
Your pulse stops. Then it surges, a violent lurch of ice-cold horror.
But it isn’t just that.
The monitor in front of him glows, and on the screen—
A live stream.
A camera. A mic. The chat scrolling too fast to read, but you catch flashes of text—
God, he’s so controlled.
Look at the way he strokes it. He’s teasing us.
Imagine being in his office, on your knees…
Your body locks up.
And then—
His eyes open.
The moment stretches unbearably. He sees you. No hesitation. No shock. Just immediate, knowing acknowledgment.
His grip does not falter.
You react before your brain can catch up, your entire body moving in a desperate scramble to retreat—but the door swings open wider before you can escape, and suddenly, he is there. Looming over you, impossibly fast. A hand catches your wrist, firm, unyielding. The door slams shut behind you with a soft click.
“You shouldn’t have seen that.”
Your breath stutters. Your stomach twists in knots. “I—I won’t tell anyone,” you whisper, voice raw with panic. “I swear—”
A quiet laugh.
It’s low, almost amused. He is not angry.
He is thrilled.
“You think I’m going to take your word for it?”
You shake your head—no, no, please—but it doesn’t matter.
The camera is still on. The chat is still alive. And he is still hard.
He forces you forward, a firm, unrelenting shove that sends you stumbling against his desk. Your hands slam against the polished surface before you can fall, and through the static roar of your own panic, you see the screen still flashing with eager, insatiable hunger.
The chat is ecstatic.
Is she new?
Holy fuck, this is real.
Look at her shaking. Fuck.
Terror clutches your ribs like a vice. “No,” you whisper. “No, please—”
He grips your hair.
And forces you down.
The carpet burns against your knees. Your hands tremble against his thighs as he tilts your head up, his cock heavy and slick against your lips. The scent of him is overwhelming, musky and clean, a contradiction that makes you dizzy with revulsion.
“Open.”
You shake your head—
He doesn’t wait.
The first thrust punches the air from your lungs. Salty heat floods your mouth, thick and intrusive. Your throat convulses immediately, your body revolting against the intrusion, but he holds you there, fingers tightening in your hair like a leash.
You claw at his wrist, body heaving, choking—
“Breathe through your nose,” he instructs smoothly. His other hand brushes against your jaw, almost… gentle. Mocking. “You’ll take it better that way.”
Tears sting your eyes. You struggle, gagging as he sets a punishing pace, forcing you to take him, every inch, every slow, deliberate push into the wet heat of your mouth. Your own spit dribbles down your chin, obscene, slick strings connecting your lips to the base of his cock every time he pulls back.
The chat goes wild.
She’s struggling so much. Fuck.
Bet she’s soaking through her panties.
Train her. Make her your little office slut.
Your vision goes spotty. Panic claws at your ribs, at your throat, at your lungs screaming for air—
And then he pulls out.
You collapse forward, coughing violently, saliva smeared across your lips, your breath coming in sharp, frantic gasps. You barely have a second to recover before he grips your jaw, smearing the wetness across your cheek with his thumb.
“You’re making a mess,” he murmurs. “I should make you clean it up.”
You barely have the strength to shake your head.
He turns you over instead.
The desk is cold against your fevered skin as he presses you down, one hand firm between your shoulder blades. Your heart pounds so violently you think it might break your ribs.
“You feel that?” he breathes, voice a slow, dark purr. “That’s what you get for spying.”
You try to rise. Try to fight. But the second you move, his other hand slides between your thighs—
And freezes.
A soft chuckle.
“You’re soaked.”
Heat flares across your face, mortifying, wrong.
He presses against you, the thick head of his cock teasing your entrance, nudging, waiting—
On the screen in front of you, the chat begs for him to ruin you.
And then—
He does.
The first thrust rips through you, stretching you open, sharp, brutal, unrelenting. Your back arches as he buries himself inside, filling you too much, too deep, the pain deliciously unbearable.
“You’re gripping me so tight,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Filthy little thing.”
You don’t want this.
And yet, your body betrays you.
And worst of all—
You know this won’t be the last time.
♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.
♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.
Ace Attorney: Barok van Zieks, Miles Edgeworth
Arcane: N/A
Blue Lock: Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Shidou Ryusei, Yoichi Isagi
Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi, Hawks, Katsuki Bakugo, Villain! Midoriya Izuku
If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.
Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld
❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.
♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:
♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology
♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.
♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.
♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.
♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution
♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.
♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.
Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @yanderedrabbles
♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,247
You should’ve known better than to trust the town’s so-called gentle giant.
People always cooed about him, saying how sweet he was, how harmless. A big ol’ teddy bear with a deep, slow drawl and an easy smile. The kind of man that made grandmothers pinch his cheek and young girls whisper about how lucky some woman would be to have a strong, dependable man like him.
But you? You knew better now.
Because that big, sweet teddy bear had you folded in half on his bed, his monstrous hands forcing your legs back until your joints ached, until something deep inside you screamed in protest. The air in your lungs felt squeezed out, crushed beneath his weight, and yet—he didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.
His drawl was still there, but it wasn’t sweet now—it was thick with dark amusement, a lazy cruelty as he watched you writhe beneath him. “Aww, sugar, you cryin’?” he cooed, thumbing away the wetness streaking down your cheek, only to smear it over your lips. “Didn’t know you were such a crybaby. Thought you were gonna put up a fight—where’d all that struggle go, huh?”
The bed groaned beneath his weight as he rolled his hips forward, sinking into you with a slow, deliberate force that made you shudder. Your breath hitched—no space, no room, the pressure unbearable. He felt it. He loved it.
“Fuck,” he hissed, half-laughing, eyes flickering down to where your body struggled to take him. His grip on your thighs tightened—too tight, the kind of tight that sent pain spiderwebbing through your flesh, deep enough to bruise. Deep enough to do worse. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, sweetheart. Can feel you tremblin’ all over. Ain’t this just precious? Never thought my first time’d be like this, but damn if it ain’t a dream come true.”
Your mind reeled. First time?
It didn’t make sense—how could he be a virgin when he was fucking you like this? When he was brutal, merciless, dragging it out just to hear you whimper? Every inch of him felt like it had been made to ruin you, thick and hot and relentless. He saw the way your eyes widened, that tiny flicker of disbelief amidst the wreckage of your dignity, and he laughed.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” His grin was wicked, his breath hot against your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re the first pussy I’ve ever had. Never had a girl before, never touched one neither.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice dipping into something darker, something breathless. “Guess I was just waitin’ for someone real special. Someone I could break in proper.”
He punctuated the words with another deep thrust, making you choke.
He groaned, shuddering, his fingers flexing against your skin—pressure, deep and unforgiving, grinding down against your bones. You sucked in a shallow breath, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. His weight was suffocating, bearing down like an animal pinning its prey.
“You’re takin’ it so good, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Thought you’d be fightin’ more. Thought you’d be scratchin’ and kickin’, but look at ya—just layin’ there, lettin’ me breed you nice and deep.”
Your nails scrabbled at his arms, but it only made him grin wider.
“That all you got?” he mocked. “That’s just adorable. Poor thing, don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?”
The worst part was the heat building inside you, the way your own traitorous body clenched around him, gripping him with every slow, punishing stroke. He felt it too, because his rhythm stuttered for just a second before he growled, slamming into you harder—ruthless now, purposefully cruel.
“Fucking hell,” he panted, “you just beggin’ to be bred, ain’tcha?”
Your vision blurred as he folded himself over you, his weight pressing down, forcing you to take him deeper than you thought possible. You were going to break. You could feel it—your insides twisting, your spine arching too far, bones creaking under his strength.
He was everywhere. His scent, his heat, the low, ragged noises spilling from his throat. And that fucking voice—syrupy sweet even as he mocked you, even as he ruined you.
“Bet everyone’d be real surprised if they saw you now,” he murmured, dragging his teeth over your throat, biting down—hard. Not playful. Not teasing. A claiming.
You yelped, body flinching under his, but there was nowhere to go. No escape.
“Ain’t that funny?” he mused, lips brushing the fresh wound. “Everyone thinks I’m some harmless puppy dog, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But you know better now, don’tcha, sweetheart?”
You whimpered, barely able to breathe through the relentless pounding.
“Aww, sugar, ain’t no use cryin’,” he teased, licking the mark, tasting the heat of your skin. “You were made for this. For me.”
He drew back just enough to look down at where you were stretched around him, where his cock was bullying its way deeper and deeper into a place he had no right claiming. A long, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest.
“Mmm, look at that.” He pressed a palm against your belly, pushing down just enough to make you feel the outline of him, buried to the hilt. “You’re so fuckin’ small compared to me. ‘Bout to split you in two, but your pussy’s still suckin’ me in like she don’t wanna let go.”
He moaned, shuddering.
“Filthy little thing. Gonna make sure you’re stuck with me forever.”
His grip turned brutal, nails digging deep, skin bending under his touch. “Think I’d ever let anyone else touch you after this? Fuck no.”
He lifted your hips, changing the angle, and you screamed as he hit something devastatingly deep. His eyes rolled back, and he laughed, nearly delirious with pleasure.
“Ohhh, you feel that?” he groaned. “That’s what I been chasin’. That’s mine.”
His hips slammed against yours with bruising force, his breath coming faster. “Gonna fill you up so full,” he panted, his grip tightening to the point of pain. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”
You felt it before he even said it—the way his thrusts turned erratic, the way his breath hitched. His body shuddered, his muscles locking up tight, and then he was burying himself as deep as he could go, grinding against you, making sure he was locked inside as he spilled himself into you with a deep, guttural groan.
You felt it. Thick and hot, filling you in a way that made your stomach churn.
He stayed there, pressed flush against you, rolling his hips in slow, lazy circles, like he was savoring every second of it.
Then, finally, he leaned back just enough to look at you properly. Dark eyes. Heavy-lidded. Drunk on the sight of you wrecked beneath him. But his grin—his wicked, breathless grin—was the worst part.
“Guess you’re mine now, sugar.”
He chuckled, still grinding against your overstimulated body, his breath warm and sticky against your cheek.
“Ain’t no man gonna want you after I’m done. But that’s alright. Ain’t nobody ever gonna touch you again.”
Just me.
His voice was soft, sweet, but there was no mistaking the possessive growl beneath it.
“I’ll be real good to ya,” he murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns over your trembling thighs. “Just as long as you remember who you belong to.”
He pressed another kiss against your throat, his lips curving into a cruel, satisfied smile.
“Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”
♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.
♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.
Ace Attorney: Phoenix Wright
Arcane: PTSD! Jayce
Blue Lock: Shidou Ryusei
Boku no Hero Academia: Hawks, Villain! Midoriya Izuku
Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: Hiroki Dan
If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.
Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld
❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.
♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:
♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology
♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.
♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.
♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.
♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution
♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.
♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.
Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @yanderedrabbles
Your mother always warned you to never give rides to strangers, but the hitchhiker you run into seems harmless. What's the worst that can happen?
Tags: implied noncon
Things originally start well. You and your buddies piled into your roommate's Jeep, roof down, pop music blasting. You're the driver - always the responsible one - hair tied back and sunglasses on the edge of your nose. You're all dressed for summer. Bikini tops and board shorts, smeared with sunscreen - the picture of college fun.
It starts well and keeps going even better. You're all in high spirits. Flushed and happy and young. Picking up the hitchhiker seems like a good idea. You see that he's handsome and around your age, that he's got an easy smile and a guitar on his back. You see that and nothing else. Not the too quick eyes, not the surprisingly light backback. Nothing.
He ends up riding shotgun, talking to you about classes and shitty professors. Smiling just a little every time you shift gears and your hand brushes his thigh.
You like him. You're the only single in the car so it's natural that he spends the most time talking to you. Lord knows it's hard to keep a conversation going with a couple when they look like they'd rather be tonsil deep in each other's throats.
You like him and you get the feeling he likes you too. When you stop at a sleazy motel for the night, he invites you to eat dinner with him outside his room. All your friends are off doing what couples do best - getting cosy in the hot tub, testing the speeds on the vibrating bed, finding new and interesting ways to use the ice machine. So you're glad for the company.
Mostly.
You're almost done eating when he pops the question.
"Why don't you have a boyfriend?"
You look away from him. Take in the greasy boxes of takeout on the concrete, the neon red wash of the vacancy sign spelling across the parking lot. It's not an easy question. It brings up ugly memories.
"I used to have one. Things ended...badly. He's in Cook County Corrections now. Serving fifty to life."
He gives a low whistle.
"That bad huh? You ever go to see him?"
"No. Never."
He stretches out, folds his hands behind his head and looks up at the dull scattering of stars.
"You should. It gets lonely in there. A guy could use the pick me up, especially if the visitor is a pretty thing like you."
You shiver despite the balmy summer air.
"I'd rather not. I'll be happy to never see his face again."
Thankfully, he drops the subject. You go back to talking about awful first dates and the best dishes to order at a Chinese restaurant. He's a complete gentleman but you can't help the slight relief you feel when he stands to leave.
" 'Night gorgeous."
"Good night, stranger."
In the morning you walk out to see him reading the early paper. He crumples and tosses it before you can catch the headline.
" 'Morning. How did you sleep?"
You shrug. "Not the best. I swear these kinds of places all get their beds from the same supplier. Lumpy Mattresses Inc."
He grins. "Don't forget their trusty partner Damp and Musty Carpets LTD."
Your friends are slow to wake up and groggy when they do. Most of them nursing nasty hangovers. You and the hitchhiker have most of the morning to eat breakfast and shoot the breeze together. When it's time to leave, he takes his place in the passenger seat like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"I couldn't find any newspapers," one of your friends complains when you're back on the road.
"I wanted to see the football results."
"Eagles beats the Rams in the final playoff," the hitchhiker says.
"Aww man. Where'd you get a paper from?"
"I must have gotten lucky. Staff is 'sposed to leave the local paper at reception. Guess they must not have the budget anymore."
You stay quiet but something doesn't feel quite right about that statement.
The day passes fast. Your playlist is a lot more mellow, on account of the many lingering headaches. Still, you think there's nothing quite as fine as the open road. It's only near evening when the trouble starts.
"Shit. I can't find our reservations."
You look at your friends in the rear view mirror. They've already pulled apart two backpacks trying to find the papers. You can't help feeling irritated. The one thing you asked them to take care of...
You pull over and search the Jeep from top to bottom. Unpack almost everything. Check and then recheck your pockets. Nothing.
"I'm really sorry y/n. On the phone they said we needed the copies to check in. Maybe we can still stop by and get it sorted with the front desk but..."
You can here the unspoken thought in their words. You're all thinking the same thing - that hotels can get so uptight when their potential guests are rowdy students with still bloodshot eyes. You worry at your nail, thinking. You paid the fees in advance so maybe if you showed them your credit card...
"My friend has a cabin not far from here," the hitchhiker says. "Pretty big place. He'd be happy to let us crash there for the night."
You bite your lip. It's a two hour drive to the hotel. And if they turn you away you'll be off the beaten path with almost no cash, on a near empty petrol tank.
"You think he'd mind letting us sleep on his couch?" you ask. "We'll be well-behaved and I can pay."
He smiles at you, totally easy going about the whole thing.
"Sure we'll just have to call ahead."
You manage to track down a payphone and you wait with the rest of your crew while he calls. You can't make out what he's saying but every once in a while his eyes drift to you. No one else. Just you.
If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was talking about you.
When he puts the receiver down, he's all smiles.
"Got it all sorted. It's out of the way though, so I reckon we grab some chow first."
Your friends are quick to agree. What self respecting kid on spring break is going to say no to fast food and cold beer? It's only you that lingers, brow furrowed. It all feels too convenient. Your reservations go missing and the stranger you picked up just happens to have a place nearby? No way. The more you think about, it the stranger it seems.
You're still lost in thought when the hitchhiker swings an arm around your shoulders and half drags you along behind your friends.
"What's you got you so worried gorgeous?"
It's hard to be suspicious of him when he smile so easy, his shaggy brown hair dancing across his forehead.
"Nothing. I just hate to intrude on your friend."
He laughs, squeezing your shoulders before letting go.
"Trust me he'll be very glad for the company. He doesn't get out much."
He pulls the diner door open for you. Your friends have already claimed a booth and a single harried waitress is struggling to jot down their long list of requests. The hitchhiker grabs your hand before you can join them.
"My friend is a great guy. I think you'll like him."
He smiles, crooked and amused, like he's laughing at a joke only he understands.
"Hell, I know for a fact that he'll like you. You're just his type."
Your smile is tight. The last guy who said you were just his type... well, you and the district attorney both know how that ended.
You take a seat and smile at the waitress. She looks beyond overwhelmed and you silently promise to tip her as well as your half drained credit card can manage.
"I'll take a steak. Rare. Bloody as you can make it," the hitchhiker says.
You raise your brows. Not exactly the typical order for an out of the way little diner. He sees your look and grins.
"Been a while without good meat. You have no idea the craving I've had this past few days."
The booth is packed tight and his thigh is flush against yours. Warm, even though his jeans.
"We all get cravings now and again. I get it."
He tilts his head at you and it must be a trick of the light, because his pupils are blown out wide. It looks like you're staring into oil. Just... emptier somehow. You wouldn't go so far as to say he feels soulless, but if it's not in the same street it sure as hell is in the same neighbourhood. Like oil, it leaves you feeling dirty in a way that doesn't easily scrub off.
"Do you?" he asks quietly.
You open your mouth to say something along the lines of I'm only human and of course I do but his eyes stop you. He isn't talking about food or meat. No. It feels like he's asking about flesh.
One of your friends cracks a joke and you turn away from him in a hurry, pretending to laugh at something you only half heard. You don't talk to him for the rest of the meal. Try to avoid looking him even. But you can't avoid the feel of his leg against yours. Warm and solid. Can't ignore the way your heart jumps when he reaches for his wallet and his fingers accidentally scrape you inner thigh.
You're the last one out of the diner. You throw away the dirty napkins and, true to your word, tip the waitress as well as you can manage. You're half afraid that he might wait for you, but when the door clicks shut behind you, you see him with the rest of your friends. Joking around with some of the boys.
The second you start towards them, his eyes fix on yours. You aren't sure how he does it - always narrowing in on you like you have your own gravitational pull. Like he's aware of your every move.
"Ready to go?"
Are you? You aren't sure. Some dull instinct is making you want to turn tail and run. You try and talk yourself out of it. What concrete evidence do you have? What has he done wrong, besides be a little intense? Folk do that all the time and it doesn't bother you. And it's not like you'll be alone. Your whole pack of friends will be right next to you.
"Yeah, let's go. Time doesn't wait for anyone."
It's a long drive. The highway splitting off into a main road and then splintering into a half-dozen country tracks. By the time you arrive, you're beyond grateful for choosing the Jeep. Heaven alone knows how much more jostling and bouncing your teeth could take.
It's a nice place. A big cabin out in a clearing, the trees thick for miles around. Much nicer than the crummy hotel you'd otherwise have to settle for. You can't even hear the traffic.
Your friends grab their bags and the hitchhiker holds the front door open as you all file in. The entryway is clean and bright, and besides the lingering tang of bleach, there's nothing to set your suspicions racing. Honestly, you feel a little silly for being so paranoid. Must be the bad memories. They make you jumpy regardless of actual circumstances.
"Where's your friend?"
You turn just in time to see the hitchhiker slipping something small and metallic into his pocket.
"Is that the key for the -"
"My friend will be here soon," he talks over you, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "I'll show you guys your rooms and once you get settled, we can grab some beers and hit the hot tub."
He brushes past you and ignores your half-hearted grab for his arm. Your friends are already pounding up the stairs, too hyped to notice your expression. He pauses on the landing and looks back at you - the only one still standing by the door. His eyes are bright and almost hard.
"You coming?"
Nothing to be scared of, right? It's a common habit to lock the front door, especially out in the woods.
"Yep. Right behind you."
But no matter what you tell yourself, your feet still drag along when you follow him deeper into the cabin. Further and further from escape.
You're the only one who gets a room of their own. Everyone else is piled two and three deep in the guest rooms, half your buddies on couches more than beds.
You're also the last to get a room, so by the time he shows you your bed, it's only you and him. You wonder if he planned it on purpose.
"Quiet out here."
He hums in agreement, standing at your window and watching the woods. He stays silent while you unpack. Whatever he's watching for takes all his attention.
It's only when you hear your friends start splashing around in the hot tub that he speaks.
"You should probably take a shower before anyone else. The water is unreliable out here."
You silently agree. It's s been a long day, and while a quick dip in the jacuzzi sounds good, a hot shower and a cool bed sound even better. He pauses at your bedroom door to say good night. You're already heading to the bathroom and you only half hear the rest of his sentence.
"Sleep tight. And don't worry too much about any noises you hear. There's mountain lions around and the sound carries funny sometimes."
He closes your door softly behind him. Your en-suite is echoey, and when you turn on the water, you don't hear the quiet click of him locking you in.
After your shower, you're totally exhausted. You don't even bother leaving your room to check on your friends. You just curl up under your borrowed duvet and drift off. When you half wake at three in the morning to the dying echo of a scream, you mutter something about mountain lions and fall right back to sleep.
You don't see it but the figure in the corner of your room smiles. Moonlight catching for a split second on the butcher's knife in his hand.
"You always were a deep sleeper, baby. Can never remember your dreams."
Morning comes fast after that. When you wake, the only evidence of your midnight visitor is a slightly misplaced pair of sneakers that you're too drowsy to notice.
Your room door opens easily and you're half way down the stairs before you even start to wonder where your friends are.
Still sleeping probably. Had a late night.
The only sign that someone else is awake is a half empty pot of coffee and a dirty mug in the sink. You don't really feel comfortable rooting around in someone else's kitchen, but the hitchhiker did say to help yourself... You end up snatching a small Greek yogurt from the fridge and taking it out to the porch.
The forest is alive with bird song, dew still melting in the grass. It's peaceful. Tranquil. For the first time, you're entirely happy that you accepted the hitchhiker's offer.
The only thing that disrupts the picture perfect scene is a single discarded sneaker, thick with mud and left right in the middle of the yard.
You sigh. Did one of your friends really lose a whole shoe and not notice? You pick it up and knock the worst of the mud off.
So much for being well-behaved. You'll have to check over the whole place before you leave, make sure they haven't somehow tanked to the property value. The edges of the laces are stained a rusty red but you chalk it up to spilled wine or something.
You drop the shoe at the door and make your way back into the kitchen. It takes some searching but you finally find the dustbin, half hidden in a cupboard. Ugh, why do rich people always have to hide the trash away in the most obscure places?
Yesterday's paper is shoved under some tea bags, the edges of the front page barely visible.
CONVICTS ESCAPE COOK COUNTY
You frown, you gut suddenly nauseous and rolling. You dig the newspaper out of the trash. Slowly. Hesitantly. Amost afraid that the reality will be twice as bad as your suspicions. There's a massive stain on the front but you can still read the print clearly.
CONVICTS ESCAPE COOK COUNTY CORRECTIONS. MANHUNT UNDERWAY.
You don't bother to read the article. The pictures alone tell you everything. You feel sick enough to faint.
You didn't think you'd ever see his face again, but here it is. Mugshot slightly blurry and the ink starting to run. Scowling at the camera like he's more pissed at being caught than anything else.
Your ex boyfriend.
You might have been fine if it was just him. Might have called the DA and the lead homicide detective, begged for witness protection. But trouble never visits without company. There's another mugshot under his, this one captioned Serial Arsonist & Convicted Killer.
The hitchhiker wasn't smiling when the cops lined him up for his red carpet shoot. His eyes are as black and empty in his mugshot as they were last night. When he looked at you and said he was craving meat. Meat.
You might have laughed if you didn't think you were about to vomit. Yeah, he was probably craving meat alright. The roasted and still screaming kind.
You drop the newspaper, hands shaking so bad you can't hold onto it even if you wanted to.
"I told him to take out the trash. But does he listen?"
You whirl around. The hitchhiker is blocking the back door and holding your friend's lost sneaker, rolling the stained laces between his fingers.
"Thanks for grabbing this, gorgeous. If we missed it, the pigs would be back on our asses in no time."
You run.
You don't bother hearing him out or rationalising. You turn away from him and bolt straight for the front door.
You almost make it.
Your fingers just brush the metal of the doorknob before someone grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you towards them, hard enough that you end up on your back. Winded. Your scalp burning.
"Gonna leave without even saying hello? C'mon baby, is that how you greet your man?"
Your boyfriend is standing above you, smirking like this is all a game. He's still in his prison jumpsuit, the sleeves knotted around his waist. He's wearing a white tank and one glance is enough to tell you that prison has been great for his gym journey. His muscles - always toned to begin with - are positively huge.
He's always been strong, but the sight of him like this has your heart racing. How much harder can he hit, with all that extra bulk to back him up?
He slams you back onto the floor when you move to get up, his boot pressing into your sternum so hard you can almost hear your bones creaking.
"Aww, don't get up baby. Let's just talk. We've got so much to catch up on."
He presses his heel into you. Hard enough that you can't breathe out it hurting.
"Where to start... Oh, I know! Have you fucked anyone else while I've been gone? Gotten yourself a new man? Who's been between your legs while I've. Been. Rotting. Away?"
He punctuates his sentence with sharp jabs of his boot.
"No one," you managed to choke out. "Didn't have anybody."
He takes his boot off your chest and you suck in a painful breath, your lungs and ribs on fire. You roll onto you hands and knees, coughing.
Shit. Fuck.
He squats down so he's level with you, voice a sickly sweet drawl.
"You promise?"
"I-" Another painful coughing fit. "I swear. No one else."
"I don't know if I can believe you, baby. You said you loved me, and then you ratted on me to the cops. Not the best record."
He grabs your hair and hauls you to your feet, totally unbothered that you still can't breathe right.
You shriek and try to pull away, only for him to wrap a hand around your throat and pin you against his chest.
He squeezes hard enough that your larynx feels like it's going to collapse.
"What do you think I should do?"
You think he's asking you, but it's the hitchhiker that answers. He's leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed like he's watching two kittens at play rather than seeing your boyfriend almost choke the life out of you.
"I reckon we should check. Her cunt should be all tight and wet after months without cock. And if it isn't...well, there's your answer."
"You hear that baby? We're gonna make sure you've been well behaved."
We?
You start fighting all the harder. One murderer is enough. You don't want both their hands on you. You'll never be able to scrub yourself clean again.
The hitchhiker smirks and pushes himself away from the wall. His pupils are all wide again, twin blackholes hungry enough to swallow you, your friends, the whole damn world.
Adrenaline is a hell of a thing but you're up against two convicted killers who've had nothing but time to get stronger. Who've had the world's hardest lessons in cruelty.
Your boyfriend lets go of your hair and grabs one flailing wrist. He bends your arm up your back until you heads tucked under his chin and you're standing on your tiptoes to alleviate the pressure.
The hitchhiker twists one ankle behind yours so you can't kick out of him. It feels like a move cops and wardens might use. He must have had it done to him plenty, if he can so easily put you in the same position.
"I'll scream."
That makes them laugh.
"Go on then gorgeous. Scream. No one heard your friends last night. What makes you think they'll hear you?"
Your friends... You were panicking so bad you hadn't even considered them. The hitchhiker sees your eyes go wide and grins that easy, friendly grin of his. The one that made you trust him enough to give him a ride.
"Oh, we took good care of them. I'll spare you the grisly details but there's no one left out here but us."
It's too awful to consider. Too visceral. Too unreal. Your mind blocks it out and changes your whole train of thought to focus on escaping.
You focus on your boyfriend. He isn't acting like himself. The same man who put his hand on the bible and swore before the court that he killed all those people because of you - that man - was suddenly willing to share? Was inviting someone else to enjoy your body?
"You're going to let him touch me? You killed my lab partner because you said he would jerk off to pictures of me. What the hell changed?"
Your boyfriend hums.
"A whole lot. He's my cellmate."
Like that explains anything!
The hitchhiker slips his fingers under the hem of your top, nails running along your waistband.
"He wouldn't shut up about you. Had your pictures pinned up above his bed and everything. It was so fucking annoying at first. My girl this, my baby that. But after a few months..."
He pops open the button of your jeans with a flick of his thumb. You jerk away but your boyfriend twists your arm even harder and you're forced to hold still.
"After a few months, I started to understand the appeal. Could see why he was so into you. And hell, I wanted a taste myself. Wanted to see if you lived up to the hype."
Your boyfriend is smiling. You can tell from his voice.
"And is she worth all the hard work we put in?"
The hitchhiker's hands are cold. You flinch when he slips his fingers past your panties. He rubs his thumb against your slit, savouring every inch.
"For her? I'd kill twice as many as we did last night."
He sighs as he feels your slick starting to collect around his knuckles. Without warning, he slides two fingers inside you. Cold, uncomfortably cold.
He has a guitarist's hands and you can feel the callouses on his fingertips scraping against your walls. Too rough. Too much.
"Just like I thought. Tight and wet. Your girls loyal to a fault."
Your boyfriend practically purrs.
"Been so good while I was gone, baby. You deserve a reward, dontcha?"
He leans down and nips your cheek. You feel sick. His teeth so close...
"Don't worry. We'll fill you up so good that you'll never try running again."
Your spring break road trip starts well and gets better. But the end? Well, it ends with a cock down your throat in and another in your cunt. It ends with a hand around your neck and teeth marks on your thighs. It ends with a reminder to always trust your instincts and to never, ever give rides to strangers.
With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.
Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words
Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.
But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.
It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.
You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?
He replied almost instantly.
Unknown: aww that sucks
Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator
Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want
Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.
He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.
"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"
You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."
His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?
"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."
He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.
"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."
There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.
"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.
"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."
You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.
"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."
"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."
You winced. "It gets that bad?"
"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."
He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."
God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.
"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."
"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."
Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.
He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.
"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."
You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -
You looked down at your mug in surprise.
"This is some really good stuff."
The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.
" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."
You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.
You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.
"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."
"I'm sorry..."
"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."
You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.
"Finally up sleepy head?"
It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.
You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.
"My heads killing me..."
He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."
You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.
"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."
He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."
He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.
"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."
"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."
"Don't be silly. I insist."
You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...
"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."
"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."
"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."
You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?
"You okay there neighbour?"
You nodded. "Just my head."
Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.
"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."
He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."
"Could I use your shower too?"
"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."
He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.
"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."
You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.
You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.
You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.
Nothing.
You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.
You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.
You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.
When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.
Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.
When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.
"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."
You paused, nervous but not sure why.
"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.
"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."
"Aye aye captain."
You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.
He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.
"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.
He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"
"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."
He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.
"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."
He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."
"Oh yeah? What?"
"Bird watching."
"Really? What do you look for?"
The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.
"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."
The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.
You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.
"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."
"G'night."
He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.
You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.
"Who..."
The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.
"Just me little bird."
You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.
'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'
"Cold..."
The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.
"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."
He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.
"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.
His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.
"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."
His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.
"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."
He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.
Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.
"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."
He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.
He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.
"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."
He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.
He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.
"Please..."
"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."
"Please...stop..."
That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.
"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."
You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.
"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."
He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.
"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."
He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.
"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"
You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.
He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.
He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.
He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.
He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.
"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."
You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.
He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.
He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.
His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.
He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...
"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."
He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.
"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."
He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.
"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."
He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.
Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.
"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."
He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.
"No one...except me."
He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.
"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."
He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."
He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.
"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."
There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.
There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.
cw. pseudoincest (attempted- Harper wants to be your dad so bad), past noncon, past drugging, depersonalisation, yandere Harper (tbf it's just Harper being Harper), discouraging remarks about the asylum patients, groping, reader being out of it- either from drugging or mental health reasons .
notes. Another lovely flash comm! Struggled not to go over the word limit too much, had SO many brain worms with this one! Thanks for comming!
He was the best of the best. No one could deny that, as far as caring for his patients went, no one was like Doctor Harper. Open slots for if any of his ungrateful patients strolled into his office, with no care that he was a busy man, most of them not even calling ahead. He was too good to those nutcases that sat in therapy on Fridays, not to mention those who sat around all day at the nut house just out of town.
This sentiment was strong, especially among the nurses that were used to those whom the young doctor cared for, the ones that felt like the biggest burden. Others had heard the praise for the blond man, with some agreements, some disagreements, some ambivalent, but all of his old friends would just roll their eyes or smirk to themselves. All in all, Harper was talked about like he was about to get a commendation for his work with the sick and mentally unwell.
And no one was on the receiving end of being told all about Harper’s accomplishments as much as you. Every day, when you were woken up, when a nurse forcibly dressed you, when showered, every single step of the way, all that you heard was about how good the Doctor was to you. How he repeatedly went the extra mile just for you, more therapy sessions, extra one on one time. Hell, he even preferred to shower you himself. You didn’t quite grasp exactly when there was a change. From you should be more grateful, other patients perked up in his care, you were just being difficult, to whispers that you were so lucky, getting the proper full time care that no one else could ever possibly give you, what a devoted young man!
But the first time you properly noticed it, through the haze and the fog and the sound muffled against your ear drums, was when Harper took a break from pawing at your chest to make a soft hum of realization and pulled open his desk drawer to slide out a crumpled envelope. Already opened, he slipped a letter free, resting his sharp chin on your shoulder, his other hand still squeezing your thigh.
“Got something for you,” He murmured, low, breath hot and wet against your neck. “It’ll perk you right up in my professional opinion.”
When you didn’t make a move to flip the paper open, he patiently did it for you, with no word of complaint. With one hand holding open the letter for you to read, his other hand drifted back to his favourite pastime when it was just the two of you in the office; greedily dragging his fingers over your hardened nipple, his hand chilling through your thin shirt. You could feel him growing more and more excited against the back of your thighs, but he had yet to…
You were starting to think he loved cumming untouched just from fondling you. His cock didn’t even seem to factor into his own pleasure when it came to you. It twitched as you pinched the corner of the paper between your thumbnail and index finger.
Your tired eyes skimmed the scrawled writing… Brat… Sold… Officially under… Dr. Harper’s… Care… Consequences…
Your gaze dropped to the last line.
Behave for your new father, or I’ll make you regret ever being dumped in the orphanage’s cardboard bin.
Your stomach felt like it was shrinking, shrivelling into something small, something that had curled up and died, only to be found and thrown out with the trash. You didn’t know what to expect, especially from your caretaker, but… But…
Harper didn’t clue into your mood dipping further, or maybe he didn’t care, too excited by God knows what. Either your body or the new situation you two found yourselves in, with him now having more power over you than ever. Your doctor, your warden, your… New father. A part of you wondered if the nightly visits will stop, now that you bought you out as his adoptee, but there was a reason you had been locked up in here. You knew better, especially of this town.
No, even as you were dressed in clothes you’ve never seen before, placed into a car that could belong to no one but Harper (piles of folders in the backseat, the usual mint air freshener scent that clung to his clothes dangled from his rearview mirror, a snowglobe of the asylum with the words number one doctor on the dashboard), waved off by nurses with plastic smiles, you knew that this place would never let you forget that most kindnesses come with hidden needles along with the usual strings attached.
Harper seems all too gleeful to bring you home. Holding your hand as he leads you to your bedroom, already decorated with things you remember liking before you had your bare room at the asylum. Babbling about homeschooling you before seeing if he can help you with an internship at the hospital, or perhaps work with his friends. He made food too. You could smell it burning about half an hour before the doorbell rang and… And your new father called you down to eat some take out he got. It was strange thinking of him as your new guardian, he barely looked older than you did, even as you chided you for not having a bath before bed, standing by the bath and helping you scrub yourself. Even brushed your teeth for you, his usually distant eyes bright, almost manic.
Then herding you to bed. Murmuring that you seem so tense, even now, in your lovely new home. Tucking you in, duvet up to your chin, his lips pressing against your forehead, his shaky breath hitting your skin before he pulled away enough to lean down to press another one to your lips.
It wasn’t like when you were first committed, Harper slipping into your room with a needleful of sedative, enough to keep you still but not to knock you out. Groaning into your neck and humping at your back, and squeezing your tits with sweaty palms like he was a virgin.You didn’t know when you stopped trying, when he didn’t need to smuggle in his favourite way of quieting you down, but you should have started now. In a comfortable bed, with the outside world just a minute away, but you didn’t. Just wrapped your arms around him, his shirt sticking to his back as he panted into your neck, his thrusts into you desperate and squishy, his soft stomach papping against yours. You looked at the ceiling, obviously with a new coat of paint, and could still make out the old moons painted there.
“There we go,” He huffed, nails digging into your sides to keep you stable, his hands too slippery to do it anymore, “Let me look after you.”
it's not uncommon for you to burst into caleb's room without knocking. it was the same no matter where he was, you'd walk straight to his bed, already talking, as if all his attention was yours to command the second you entered his periphery, as if it was your own room. sometimes he'd be by his desk, perking up at the sound of the door being opened and turning to face you, sometimes he's already in bed reading, scooting over to make room as he continues his book, not even having to look at you. you'd snuggle in, making yourself comfortable.
"you know you got your own bed, right?" he'd tease, as if he'd have it any other way.
"yeah, but yours is waaay more comfortable" you'd feign a pout. he never pushes, and you never expect him to.
you'd talk and talk, and he'd listen happily. and sometimes, you'd fall asleep in his bed, never asking, never thinking to. it had always been like this.
even after he moved out for school, summers still gave you the chance to live together once again. you'd seamlessly slip back into the routine, as if no time had passed.
tonight was no different.
you were snuggled up against him, you had been telling him about some gossip from school, some text conversation with a friend. using his outstretched arm as a pillow as you looked up at the ceiling, gesturing at nothing, looking over at him occasionally, catching his eye every time. his eyes never strayed from you. you were used to his gaze, the feeling was constant when he was around.
your story slowed, yawns every few minutes became every few words. until finally a comfortable silence filled the room. he let's out a little laugh. rubbing your shoulder to help ease you into a nice dream.
"must've been really sleepy, huh" he mutters into your hair, petting you, you offer a sleepy groan as a response. he can't help but smile, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you hum happily. it's not long before your breathing slows into that familiar pattern. your chest rising and falling evenly, you were sound asleep.
"there you go," caleb coos softly, shifting to be behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. slowly, so slowly, he moves his hand to rub your stomach. small soothing circles, testing the waters. you've never woken up so far, but he doesn't want to push his luck.
his fingers drift lower, silk soft touches along the exposed skin between your slightly shifted top and the hem of your shorts. he could do this forever, feeling you under his hands, in between his arms, against his chest. he loved having you so close like this, he doesn't know if he could go without it. he knows you feel the same, you might not know it entirely, maybe you don't think about it too much, but he sees the way you look at him, the way you blush, the way you tease. you feel it too, you just aren't ready to act on it yet, you wanna keep the charade going. and that's fine, he's a patient man.
for the most part.
his fingers grow restless, sliding under the waistband of your shorts, under your panties, trailing lower and lower, slow and steady. he hovers over your clit, your breathing remains even.
he waits a second, just to be sure.
and he softly presses down. you don't stir at all. he begins to move in easy little circles, just the right amount of pressure. he thinks he's perfected it. he got a bit too eager with you once, and you almost woke up. you like soft touches, he knows that, for now at least.
he uses his arm around your waist to pull you closer, pressing your ass flush against his growing hard on. he has to bite back a moan, letting out a deep breath instead. he wants to grind into you so bad, but this isn't about him, it's all about you. he remains still, cock twitching against the layers that separate your skin.
he knows one day you'll be together. he can wait until then, but in the meantime, he just wants to open you up a bit. get you ready for him. he thinks it's sweet even, he knows you don't have any experience. he doesn't want you to feel embarrassed or scared he won't fit. he'll be able to assure you and mean it, he'll know your body so well already, you'll have nothing to worry about.
his finger against your clit presses harder, just a touch. your thighs shift, pressing into his bulge harder. he slows, not yet stopping. waiting, checking for any tell tale signs of you waking up.
"mm..." you let out a tiny moan, still asleep. caleb can't help but let his eyes flutter closed at the sound. letting his face nuzzle deeper into your hair, peppering encouraging kisses against your head as he breathes in your scent.
"feels good?" he mutters, barely audible. "let's see..." his hand stills, moving lower, dipping between your lips towards your opening. he has to bite his lip again to hold back the low moan that almost escaped.
you're soaked.
he has a habit of giving you what you want. now is no exception, he won't make you wait.
he circles your opening, before slowly inching in. his cock twitches again, head weeping, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you. he pushes in deeper and deeper.
"nngh⎯" you let out a soft groan, and he freezes. he's unsure if it's discomfort or pleasure. you're tense around him.
"i know, i know, it's why we're opening you up." he whispers in his most reassuring tone, hoping it'll reach you in your dreams and put you at ease. and it seems to work, you relax, sinking deeper into the bed, soft walls welcoming his finger.
"mhm, just like that..." he presses into you, his finger is as deep as it could go. he angles his wrist so the meat of his palm presses into your clit as he slips a second finger in.
"hah," you sigh sweetly. caleb takes a deep breath, trying to keep his desire in check. maybe, maybe you've done this enough times, maybe you can take a little more now. he justifies it to himself as he curls his fingers out just to push it back inside, a little harsher now, causing you to press harder against his needy cock. you tense again, but relax before he even has a chance to comfort you.
he's losing all composure now.
he repeats the motion, harder, grinding against you. and again, and again, falling into a steady rhythm.
"mmph!" the sweet sounds seem to pour out of your lips. he takes them as encouragement, moving his head lower to brush his lips against your neck. your body sways with each thrust from his fingers, pliant and so accepting of everything he's giving.
he's moving you so much he doesn't notice as you shift more against him.
you feel the pleasure bubbling within you first. it pulls you close to waking. you've had this dream before. being fondled and fucked. your eyes squeeze shut tighter, but it starts to sting, it feels real, you feel the pressure of your eyes against your skull. you twitch, and you suddenly become acutely aware of the ache in your core.
your eyes flutter, half lidded as you become aware of your surroundings. caleb, he's behind you, and he's ... his ⎯ you can't think straight. he's still moving. you're moving, he's moving your body along with his.
he's pressed against you, he's huffing in your ear, and his hand is in your panties.you try to keep your breathing in check, you want to pant, you feel so overwhelmed all over, you feel surrounded, filled.
right before you can fully acknowledge what is happening, you feel it, your peak is approaching, fast. it's all too much, all of it, his thrusts, his breath against you, his hard cock grinding on your ass, his fingers so, so deep. you try to stop it, whimpers tumble out, you try to speak, but it comes out as a lewd moan.
"w-wai⎯" but it's too late. it all comes crashing down, you come onto his fingers. he feels it, shoving his fingers deep and then holding them still, letting your walls milk him, fruitlessly.
"fuck, yeah, that's it," he whispers, kissing your neck. he was trembling, "mmm, yes."
as you come down you realize he's stopped moving as well, as he shifts the cold air makes you acutely aware of the damp spot against your ass. he gently removes his hand for your panties, you crack your eye open as he raises it, past your face and out of sight. you hear him behind you, his lips part and he's sucking his fingers. he let's out a soft groan at your taste. you shudder.
"sooo good, you did so good." he murmurs into your hair. moving his arms to surround you again. you feel unsure, maybe, you're still dreaming. it's hard to tell, you feel so sleepy again. you lean further into him. he's so warm. it just feels right. and it's not unlike dreams you've had before. maybe, you liked it more than you're willing to admit.
i now beg of you to make a random scenario of reader meeting human rosebud pleSe
Your first day off in days, and the first thing you do is visit the gallery. You couldn't help it- The place was like a home away from home with how much you worked, and being the cog that keeps things running made you almost as attached to it as its inhabitants were to you.
You take your time getting ready since there was no rush, leaving home around noon. You keep your badge pinned for the free admission and break the short distance between your building and the gallery. Management had helped you secure the apartment in case there was an emergency while you were away, and since it was mostly paid off by them you had no problems moving in.
The gallery was nice and peaceful today. No field trips or tourist cluttering the floor. With how hectic things get during the day, you're almost glad you got stuck with the night crew. You make quick conversation with the receptionist, grabbing a map as you leave their station. You knew the layout of the gallery better than your own apartment complex, but it made mapping out your visit much easier. Normally you explored the upper floors since doing the same at night was difficult, but to avoid any complaining from the lower floors you'd start on ground floor first.
Not much here besides a couple paintings and the garden. You saying hello to Scavenger on your way to the lot, gaining a few side eyes from fellow vistors in the process. You made it to the garden right around the time it warmed up for the day. The hot sunlight was a stark contrast to the cool moonlight surrounding you at night. The various flower brushes are in full bloom, and members of the dayshift were working on refurbishing the butterfly garden in tandem with its reopening next week.
You march up the stone path to the center piece of the garden, a statue depicting a shut rosebud nestled within a bush full of red roses. Since they weren't able to bite you, you poke around in the leaves and admire the roses vibrant colors with your hands. As you prepare to move onto the next exhibit, you can't help but wonder-
Had the statue's petals always been that open?
"Beautiful devils, aren't they?"
Swallowing a mini heart attack, you turn in the direction of the voice. The stranger looked like a work of art themselves. Forest green eyes, curly mane the same brilliant red as the rose between your fingers. Stray strands of hair braid the sides of their face like vines; a mole kissing their upper left cheek. A black corset hugs their broad waist, black gloves poking from the collar of their ruffled white sleeves. They smile down at you from the rim of the glass in hand.
"But I believe my eye has caught someone far more breathtaking right in front of me. Who might you be, dearest?"
"Y/n. Who are you?"
"Y/n." The stranger licks the wine off their thin lips. There's something familiar about way your name fits in their mouth. "A gorgeous name for a gorgeous character. My friends call me Rose, but you- may call me Ro if you please. I'm sure any name would be a godsend from a creature like you."
Ro stretches their hand towards you, arm freezing as the sleeve of their shirt pulls up their skin. They recoil, downing the glass with lightning speed. They laugh off the action, pointing at the cup.
"There is another reason I got your attention. I noticed your badge and was wondering if there were rules against this."
"I won't tell if you won't."
"Wonderful. I wanted to meet someone special today to look for something and as shameful as it is, I am in need of a little "liquid courage" to walk around in large spaces."
"Did you find whatever you were looking for?"
"Yes... and so much more." Ro's gaze loiters on you for a beat long than a stranger's normal would. They shift on their heels. "But my acquaintance has left me for now. I'd hate to trouble you, but could I ask you a few questions about some of the exhibits here? I'd like to increase my knowledge before they get back."
"Um, sure. Let me go grab another map real quick to help you out."
"That would be lovely, Rosetta."
You stop in your tracts. "What did you say?"
"I said that would be very helpful, dear."
"Right..." You quickly exit the room.
Rosebud watches you leave with a grin. They crouch beside their rose bush, walking the sleeping buds with a stroke of their stems. "Hello, dears. I'm sorry to wake you so soon- Yes, that was our darling guard, but you can't play with them right now. I need you to do me a little favor, and then we can spend as much time with them as we desire."
When you return, Ro's glass is filled to the brim in crimson.
Oh boy i hope this sends, but I've been getting such brainrot from the museum asks and I had an idea for another type of au. We've had security guard reader, owner reader, and painting reader, but i thought of an art restorer/art historian reader. Basically someone who really cares about the artwork itself and the finer details and history of the art and the process of it being created. I think it'd be really interesting having a reader who's job it is to go fix the broken works, think about the attachment that the peices that they fix would have. The art would think reader is so gentle and caring, so careful with them and mending them back to their original state before they where ruined. I still think the rest of the museum would come to love them too, they would hear about how much reader cared and would grow attached too, some may even rip themselfs apart in hopes of having readers loving hands mend them back together creating marks that the reader made embedded into them forever. But I feel like the original peices inside the restoration closet that we saw in the owner reader ask would have a stronger and more protective attachment to the reader. The ones who were thrown into a closet and left to rot inside a dark crowed closet only to be saved by their savior and painstakingly put back into their former glory would never allow anything to tarnish the one who saved them.
"Alright, let's try you again."
You insert the crescent shaped key into its designated hole. Twisting the handle, you wind the clock until no longer able; inner mechanisms taut round the key's bronze teeth. Pulling it free, you wait the results of your experiment with fingers crossed. The clock slowly whirls to life; wooden hands gravitating towards the center of its spilt chest as its head sinks forward. You celebrate your success with a pat on the back; congratulating yourself too soon as everything unfolds before your eyes.
The clock stops halfway through its greeting; body twitching and jerking as it fights to complete its given function. The convulsions and angle it hangs at damages the adhesive keeping its faceplate in tack; the panel falling to the ground with a loud clack. The gears of its left arm snap under the stress and join its other part on the floor. Nearing the end of the cycle, the clock stops moving completely and stands still.
"No. No. No!" You scramble across the floor to pick up the pieces, checking for any damages as you carry them over to the table. You sigh in relief and frustration as you look at the tools scattered across your workspace. "I really thought I had it this time..."
You set the parts down and accept your defeat. Your job was both the occupation of your dreams, and your nightmares. Head of the restoration team for the town's art gala, as well as its sole member. All your coworkers left within the span of the first year, but it's not like you mind. Their departure only left you alone with the art works. Fragments of history and creative minds that you alone had the honor to restore. There were some hurdles with mediums you'd yet to figure out, but you'd tackle them on your own or the begrudging assistant of others. The current object of your fixations was a piece of said status, and you worked until closing to try things your way before the repair team came the following morning. You look at the clock with guilt embedded into your soul.
It was human in shape; crafted of polished wood, glass, and metal. A perfect union between machine and nature. Housed in its torso was a clock hidden behind a leather corset which could be opened by inserting the key into the carved heart on its chest. Its face was made up of the image of a sun with closed eyes and rays over lapped in the center; producing a sun dial when opened. The rays were made of twisted metal and colored glass between each knot.
When the clock was wound, its tended function was to bow before the keyhole as it opened its chest cavity. The action would be followed up by it opening its face so that the sunlight may hit the hidden dial. Its creator supposedly worked by an open window and that was his preferred way to tell the time.
You step back over to it, examining its remaining hand. Only two fingers were in tact, and there was some chipping paint caked beneath its nails. You scratch away the crimson and meet its face with an apologetic smile.
"Well, I know it wasn't ideal, but at least we got to spend more time together today. The guys who can do what I can't will be in tomorrow."
You kiss its steal cheek and grab your things as you head out; wishing the other pieces in the room a goodnight on your way. Poor things. Before you came they were just locked in the storage room to rot or eventually be displayed in betrayal of their former glory. As you walk through the empty gallery, you read over the clock's documents that you had captured on your phone. Its origin was apparently France; belonging to a lonely clockmaker who had dealt with the passing of his family the year prior. Its rumored to have been made in memory of his spouse who had to reminded him that life didn't evolve around his craft. He may have forgotten to kiss them goodmorning each day, but he always made sure it tend to his clocks.
Your phone clatters to the floor as you bump into the door. You try its handle. Locked. Made since due to it being after closing, but that was just rude. Your boss did tell you not to stay after work.... No matter, it's not like you were there for the overtime. You reach into your bag for your keys.
What?
You shake the bag around, but you can't hear their jingling. You search through; shaking the bag harder incase they under all the clutter - but they aren't there. Losing your keys now was probably the worst of times with the recent report of a break in.
"Shit... I must've left them in the office." You hurry back to your post, stopped by a sound from the neighboring hall. It seems like nothing at first - till you make out the laughter. You speed up your return - back at the door in a quarter of the time it took you to reach the front door. You legs ache from climbing three flights in record time, but you didn't feel like going all the way down the lobby to the elevator. Grabbing the doorknob, you overhead part of a conversation as you crack the door.
"The dawn is so far away... I miss them already."
A muffled reply.
"Ah, don't give me that. If anyone feels bad about ruining their hardwork me."
Another, this time in a different tone.
"You're all just jealous. You'll get your turn soon so be patient."
You ease the door open more.
"We'll tell them what you did."
The main speaker snarls.
"You wouldn't dare... As if you had no part in it."
You peer through the crack; ready to face the potential danger, but unprepared for what you witness. It's difficult to see, but you can make out shadows moving along the walls in the same placement as the paintings waiting to be restored. To your horror, you realize they are just that; the object of each piece brought to lift in a different form. Their imperfections carry over. A king's upper face distorted by smudges made by rain water. A maiden's left side burnt off and discolored like a charred piece of paper.
The paintings center their attention of the mannequin in the middle of the room attaching an arm back to their wooden body. The clock. It back talks to its fellow inhabitants as it repairs itself; the detached limb miming a talking mouth.
"All you lot ever do is whine. The bond between Y/n and I is apparent and as powerful as new dawn, but we are all important to them and we must make sure our doors always remain open to them."
You pull your hand away from the door; unsure of your next course of action. Your phone sits in your hand, emergency services at the dial, but this really didn't seem like something they could handle. As if the situation couldn't get worse, the clock doll notices your keys on the table. They pick them up, porcelain eyelids drawing back as they examine the company issued key ring.
"These... are theirs."
The room kicks up in commotion.
"Something of Y/n's? Give it to me!"
"You sound like that Scavenger on the first floor, but for good reason."
"They're mine."
The clock holds up a finger. "Hush. Don't you realize what this means? Since these are here... That means they are too."
It turns its head towards the door. Something tells you that if it could've smiled - it would've. It sticks something into its chest that looks like an amalgamation of scrap; turning the makeshift key as it draws close. With no other choice, you close the door right as its face appears in the crack. Your barricade rattles in its frame as a heavy fist makes contact. You both know it won't last long.
"Y/n... Sunshine~ Open the door. I'm sorry I didn't work right for you earlier. I just want to spend as much time with you as possible. Although you're playing keep away, it feels so good to talk to you. We all have waited to speak with you for so long.."
Through the banging, you can hear their call.
"Don't go... Come in, give us new life so we can use it to welcome you."
"Can tonight be my turn? Make me reborn in your image."
"We love you. We need you."
"This is your home, Y/n." The clock concludes. "Nobody appreciates your craft more than us. Your talents here are worshipped."
Your grip on the door loosens. It slips from your hands before you can realize. You fall to your knees, but there's hands waiting to pick you up. They've always been there - hiding in plain sight, longing for the day they could hold you. With another night at it end in the gallery, their embrace would forever remain.
A collection of my Night Gallery fics in which you're a nightguard working at an art gallery full of strange and even living art pieces - who want you to become a permanent member of the crew.
Main tag: #Night gallery tag
Main Plot
Works that are canon to the main plot points of the story.
The Night Gallery
A List of the current crew.
The Angel's backstory [kiss unfortunately noncanon]
Meeting Julian
A bit on The Painter
Finishing a shift with Anri
Julian + Anri description
Meeting Rosebud
The Lady in Red
Helping RoseBud's Roses
The Scavenger's description
Meeting Soleil the Human Clock
Meeting the Scavenger
AU/Non-Canon
Works that are noncanon to the main story
Reader owning the gallery. [First mention of The Painter and The Angel]
Reader quitting and their last night on the job
Reader giving the gallery a photo of themselves
Painting Reader [First mention of Julian]
Smooching The Painter
A kiss from Rosebud
Human Rosebud
Cuddling human Rosebud
Reader being a former nude model
Headcannons/Ambiguously Canon works
Shorts and mini fics that could be seen as part of the main storyline
Reader collapses on the job
How the gallery deals with intruders
Reader stays overnight
Reader leaves for a few weeks without telling anyone
Random Hcs
Julian & Readers Dynamic
A bit of Info on the Director X X
A night with the Director
What if someone other than Reader got lost in the gallery?
Summary: Finishing your shift at the gallery, your Coworker walks you out before the beginning of theirs. [Anon Request for my series Night Gallery. Ask at end for spoiler reasons]
"Headin' out for the night, Y/n?"
Eyes ahead. You pop the lock on your locker and sort through your belongings. Bag. Wallet. All the important things were there. Leaving candy bars and small photos of yourself secured their safety, but there was no harm in doubt checking. Gathering them up, you swing your bag onto your shoulder and turn towards the room door. A wrapper crinkles from the breakroom table.
"Y/n?"
Your fingers miss the knob as they speak. You correct yourself, freeing your mouth of its dryness. "Yea... My shift ends in a few minutes."
"Oh, sweet! I finally found my coat so I'll head out with you." Chair legs scrap across the floor. A step-
"You can't."
They stop.
"Why not?"
"You have the morning shift, remember?"
They huff. "You're right... but it's not sweat if I skip one day. At least let me walk you to the front."
Your head shifts towards the clock. "Alright.."
The gallery was at during this hour. The time when everything stilled and you were undeniably alone as the world woke. As you approach the exit, a happy hum ghosts your tail; its stride leaping to a skip when you attempted to create distance.
"I'm so glad we were able to meet up tonight."
It takes all of you not to stop. Your coworker is walking beside you now, making your pace to the exact beat. You feel the radiation of their smile; cold fingers brushing yours.
"With my shift change, we rarely see each other anymore."
Your tongue shifts uncomfortably against the floor of your mouth, but your lips stayed sealed. Had they visited just a little earlier, maybe you could have entertained them for just a little while.
"I really miss you."
A tug on your sleeve. The outside world presents itself to you from gated windows; held at bay by a weight on your back. Lavender locks tickle your cheek; your arm limp in their grasp - fist balled.
"Please don't leave me all alone here. I want to be with you. Things are so much better when you're here."
You will yourself to unclench your hand, placing it over theirs. The coolness of their skin pools beneath the coat. "Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow. Like always."
Their muscles tense, but you're go. "...Okay."
You take the chance to leave. Standing outside in the beneath the waking sun, you look back. There they stand; unblemished skin, eyes like a moon lit lake. The security jacket hangs off their shoulders and bunches around their wrists; a
The words crawl from the pit of your stomach. "How did you find your coat?"
They wait too long to answer. "Crazest thing. Someone stole it and was wearing it somewhere around on the third floor."
"Goodbye, Anri."
"We both know that it isn't. See you soon, Y/n.
The doors close behind you. You pull out your phone and send to message to your coworker to check on them. There will never be a reply. You take a seat on the step of the gallery, waiting for the doors to open so you can fulfill your promise.
If you manage to get out of there without them noticing first, the gallery will become understandably filled with grief and rage. How could you abandon them like this? Weren't you coming to love them? Like they had you? You won't last out there without them. You have to stay..
The residents will become more hostile than they are now. Even fellow workers or new guards aren't free from their wraith. They'll try anything to get you back. Manipulate other humans to kidnap you, calling your old numbers, make a replica - but it could never be the same.
If they do manage to find out before you leave, well, that's another story.
-
This was it - your final night at the gallery.
While doing some job surfing in your free time, you came across a gig that payed better than your current employers, and probably wasn't full of haunted, cursed or otherworldly art pieces. The gallery obviously paid fairly well for what you had to do, but if there was a job where you didn't have to worry about finding another pair of discarded bloody clothes or running from living statues - you'd take it.
The week had been long, with a pretty mellow end. You just wanted to get to the last day of the payroll before you left, and get your last looks at the gallery. The art works hasn't been very active lately. If fact, it seemed that some were actively avoiding you. The scavenger painting who'd always follow you about hadn't left their frame once; and the constantly gossiping statues in the garden grew hush when you walked by. Strange, but it would make it easier when you have to leave.
"Hey, Hey. It's starting soon, right?"
You freeze. Watering the plant monster in the garden and their roses lead you right passed that little group. Three black silhouette statues wearing one of the three primary colors in the form of a dress or suit. Sometimes they switched around. The only other thing that differed from their onyx skin was their wide smiles; clambering on and on each night about the things they heard. They cup their hands over their faces to keep their voices down, but their loud mouths never stay shut.
"Hush! They'll hear you."
"I think they already have..."
You speed walk out of the garden. It was getting close to the end of your shift, better to gather your things now so you wouldn't have to rush. The statues giggle as you run off.
Entering the break room, you discover your locker to be broken open; the metal dented by heavy fists. The itch of anxiety crawls up your spine. This wasn’t the time for games. It's been a minute since you've had to deal with a mischievous painting. Why now of all times? Did.. they know somehow?
You shake the thought from your head. No, no, you kept your mouth shut. There was no way they figured out you were leaving. They wouldn't be this calm if they has. Calm down- breath. You inhale, and start to look for your bag.
You find it behind the fridge; covered in black handprints and slightly warm from the heat of the appliance. It's a quarter to seven. Time for you to leave. You exit the room; growing pale at the sight of what was before you, or rather - what wasn't.
There was a painting frame there. One you remembered vividly, from the sweet melodies that rang from it each night. It was a portrait of a violinist; one who died mere minutes after it was finished. Their phantom would begin to play every night you clocked in, and whenever you clocked out. In your stupor from finally leaving this place, you didn't notice they had not played a single song that entire week. You hear the first note from their strings from down the corridor. Its not the usual song they play at this time.
You run. Sprinting pass all the vacant exhibits; the faces that peer out at you as you flee. Mocking you. Welcoming you. You hear footsteps falling behind you, but you don't turn your head. As the exit approaches, you ram into its doors; your shoulder burning with a dull ache as the heavy doors remain shut. A locked chain keeps them in place; glued to the frames and as strong as real steel. Your hands become covered in paint as you pull on them with all your might.
You look around for another escape; for anything. That's when you notice so many things you should have before; falling off your toes from the relief of finally being free. Windows boarded. Emergency exits blocked off. A sign hanging over the doorway of the main corridor.
"Goodbye. Welcome home, Y/n."
A kind farewell banner turned to a sickening greeting with letter written in deep red. The active artworks spill into the space, giving you just enough room to breath, but still leaving you suffocated. They come from different floors; the silent pact to stay in position broken to give their dear Nightguard their best wishes. The Director steps through the small crowd; every resident moving aside for him.
"So this is.. farwell, Y/n?"
He doesn't wait for you to reply.
"It breaks our hearts that you would have left without saying goodbye, but it's only in your nature. As we all still care for you greatly, we've decided to host a celebration for you... One that will last all day long, but we do understand you're a bit shy."
He grins.
"If you manage to get away from us until the evening, then you'll be free to go. When you fail, well, welcome home, Y/n..."
