A/N: I wrote this for @romanarose Dead Dove December. So it’s dark. Please read the warnings and tags and if it’s not for you, scroll on by. Please protect yourselves.
Warnings: Non-con, DDDNE, intoxication, somnophilia, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, virginity loss, implied age gap, dirty talk. Let me know if I missed anything.
You moved in a haze. Your brain felt foggy beyond belief and you felt like you barely had control of your body. Had you drank that much? You didn’t think so but the booze must have hit you hard. You stumbled your way through the kitchen, using the island counter for support. When you reached the end of it you took a moment before lurching forward again. Your legs almost gave out beneath you but you felt a strong arm catch you around the waist and haul you back up.
“Easy darlin’.”
The sound hit your ears like you were underwater, stilted and distorted. You felt something behind your knees and you were titling backwards, making the room spin. ‘You’re being lifted’ your cloudy brain supplied on a delayed response. You moaned, the only noise you were currently capable of making. You tried to get your bearings but everything was out of focus. Your head lolled to the side and hit something solid. You surrendered yourself to helplessness, feeling wholly disconnected from your body. Whether minutes had passed or hours, you couldn’t tell before you felt yourself being deposited somewhere soft. A bed. Good. You needed to sleep. Your eyes slipped closed, the out of focus spinning of the room too much for you to cope with.
You barely registered your shoes being removed, sleep having almost claimed you. You felt yourself being manhandled while your dress was removed. The support that was holding you up vanished and you slumped back on to the mattress. You were so tired. Next you felt your underwear being raked down your legs.
“So fuckin’ pretty.” It took minutes for your addled brain to decipher the garbled noises.
You felt something warm on your knee. A hand, you realised. Felt another on the opposite knee, felt your legs be pushed apart. You felt the heated weight of unknown hands stroking up your thighs. Your skin began to tingle only after the soft touches had passed, like your brain was out of sync with your body, only letting your body feel what it should after the fact. But it felt nice. Soothing. Something was niggling inside your brain, a thought you couldn’t quite catch hold of.
Once the hands reached the tops of your thighs they remained stationary, kneading and massaging the soft flesh for a moment before one disappeared from your body and the other skated over your mound and down to explore your folds. A moan slipped out of your lips when you felt pressure on your bundle of nerves.
“Yeah, that feel good baby?” Slightly clearer this time.
“Mmmmmmm,” was all the response you could give. That niggling thought continued to fight for attention, finally breaking the surface. Should this feel good? You tried to move your arms to push the hand away from your core, tried to twist your torso and kick your legs but your body felt leaden, a dead weight that couldn’t be moved by your misfiring brain.
The sensation on your clit changed; warmer, wetter. A tongue? You felt something prodding at your entrance. You tried to speak, tell them to stop but all that came out of your mouth was another rolling moan. Something breached you. You couldn’t tell what but felt the stretch, felt the push and pull in and out of your body. You dully registered the slow build-up of pleasure in your abdomen, unable to prevent or participate.
“Yeah that’s it baby, can tell you’re getting close, such a good girl.” The tongue returned to your clit with greater pressure, moving against you with more urgency. You heard more moans leaving your mouth. You felt the crescendo rising within you until the coil snapped and your consciousness was washed away on the waves of your orgasm, leaving you to sink into darkness.
_____________________________________________
When you awoke your senses were battered with an array of stimuli that it took your befuddled brain a while to work through. The smell hit you first, bonfire and whiskey, then the weight on top of you. The blurred vision of someone over you. The combined movement and pain at your core came next. The noise came last. The steady grunts, “ugh, ugh, ugh,” in time with the thrusting between your legs and an answering ‘schlick, schlick, schlick’ of wetness.
“Ssstop,” you managed to slur out, your body still unwilling to listen to your commands.
“Shhh baby its ok, be over soon,” he told you quietly.
“Huuuuuurts” you murmered, your mouth struggling to form anything coherent.
“It’ll pass baby. Ohhhhhh fuck, you’re taking this cock so good. So wet for me, so tight, such a good girl.”
You drifted in and out of consciousness, waking each time to discover the horror anew, your brain only capable of dealing with the here and now, forgetting what had come before. He reassured you each time, “you’re doing so good darlin”, “best pussy I ever felt”, “it’s just a dream baby, you’re dreaming.”
The final time you awoke the thrusting had grown to a frenzy. Just as his hips reached fever pitch you let out a loud moan, the unremembered pain in your abdomen replaced by tingling pleasure. At the noise he stopped thrusting suddenly, buried deep within you and gave a rumbling moan of his own. You felt a bursting warmth fill you as he slumped down on top of you fully, knocking the breath out of your lungs.
“Fuck yes, oh yes, yes, yes” he whispered as you felt more spurts of warmth within you.
He only registered you were awake as he pulled himself out of you. He got off the bed and your unfocused eyes tried to take him in, tried to identify your assailant but all you could make out was a hazy outline in the low light of wherever you were. Your head rolled back on your pillow as you passed out again.
_____________________________________________
Joel waited a few minutes until he was sure you were asleep again before starting to clean up the mess he’d made. He tried to be quick but couldn’t stop himself from playing with you some more. You were so goddamn cute.
Once satisfied, he crept back downstairs and out into the yard to re-join the party, hoping that the fireworks had been impressive enough that his absence and reappearance would go unnoticed. He sidled over to a group by the fence, nonchalantly leaning against the wood like he’d been there the whole time. Not a minute later your father ambled over and clapped him on the back.
“Joel, just the man, been thinking about putting in a pool, want your professional opinion.” He followed your dad to the proposed site of the new pool. Joel couldn’t believe this was happening, here he was listening to your father prattle on about construction while his cum, your slick and virgin blood dried on his cock. He’d never felt so exhilarated.
This is my submission for the Dead Dove December 2024 event held by my dear friend @romana-after-dark. I hope you guys like it!
summary: oneshot set in AU, no outbreak. You are a down on your luck waitress who impulsively steals from a man at a casino one night. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up easily.
warnings: noncon anal penetration, degradation, coarse language, noncon digital penetration, gambling, theft, slut shaming, mention of sex work, unspecified hefty age gap, reader is feminine but not described in detail.
word count: 4,500
You knew he might try find you, but you didn't think he would go any further than the front doors of the casino. You thought he would stalk around the black jack tables a few times, search throughout the scores the slot machines, maybe even check the high rollers lounge and the rooftop balcony. You knew he would be angry when he realised what you did but you didn't expect him to bother chasing you too far.
You had high tailed it out of there pretty quickly once you stole the chips and cashed out, anyway. Out onto the strip you strutted, abuzz with smug triumph, holding tightly to your purse stuffed with cash. You checked into a hotel a few blocks away, deciding to treat yourself to a deluxe room with a queen sized bed and room service.
Sure, you had done the wrong thing. You knew you had. It wasn't that you were a bad person, though - you were just desparate. Living in a shitty trailer and working your ass off waitressing had driven you to the edge of hopelessness. You were sick of slaving away to earn enough money to survive through the week. You were sick of the disgusting men who oogled you and treated you like a piece of meat while you served them burgers and fries and endless cups of coffee. You had been beaten down by the hardships of life for years now and there never seemed to be any hope for a better future for you. You were never granted a reprieve from the drudgery of your dull existence, not even for a day.
Until the night you met Joel and got greedy.
Joel Miller rarely gambled. He enjoyed the occasional game of poker or darts with his work buddies but he was never a hustler. He had seen his little brother Tommy lose way too much money betting on football games and amateur poker tournaments to want to take a risk himself. He was definitely the more sensible of the two.
He wasn't a party animal, either. It wasn't in his nature to be wild and carefree; becoming a single dad at a young age and raising a daughter while earning a living as a contractor had moulded him into a pragmatic, no-nonsense kind of man. His workaholic dedication to his profession and his responsibilities as a parent had left little room for pleasure in his personal life, anyway.
And even though Joel's daughter is an adult now, living her own life in another state, he still leads a quiet existence outside work. Tommy teases him for being a boring old bastard, but the truth is Joel has always craved a simple life, so he's content with how things are. He downs a whiskey every night and more often than not falls asleep on the couch while watching a movie.
But tonight is different. One of the guys in his work crew is having a bachelor party, so Tommy finally had a good reason to drag Joel out of the house to enjoy a night out. Even though he grumbled and groused about being too old for this shit, Joel acquiesced and joined the group of men for a night of bar hopping (and even a visit to a strip club). At Tommy's insistence they ended up stopping at one of the casinos to try their luck at some poker and blackjack.
It took some convincing from the guys and a few shots of whiskey to get Joel to loosen up enough to get into the spirit of things. He won some money and lost some money but actually managed to have some fun along the way. He was going to call it a night but decided to lay a last minute bet at the roulette table, just for the hell of it. To his surprise he ended up winning.
"You lucky son of a bitch," Tommy laughed in shock, clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Who woulda thought?"
Joel grinned smugly and accepted the stack of chips offered to him by the table dealer. Emboldened by the win and the guys encouragement, Joel placed another bet on the roulette table but promised himself it was his last for the night. He braced himself for disappointment when the spinning wheel slowed down, reminding himself that everybody's luck ran out at some stage. The little round ball bobbled along the slots until it came to a halt on red 23, the slot that Joel had placed his chips on.
The men all whooped and cheered when they saw the result and Joel couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. The dealer pushed a large stack of chips towards Joel with an uttered congratulations, sir.
"Keep goin', man," Tommy whispered in his ear. "You're fuckin' killin' it, got a lucky streak, Joel, you gotta ride it."
Joel shook his head and collected the stacks of chips in his hands. "Tom, I just won ten grand. Odds are I'm gonna lose it all if I keep goin'."
Satisfied with his takings and ready to go home, Joel bid his brother and friends goodnight and went on his way to the cashier cage to cash out his winnings. He was standing in line waiting to be served when something bumped his elbow. He turned to look at what had knocked him, and there his eyes fell upon you.
You. Young, pretty, well made up. Dress short enough to show off your legs but just long enough to cover your ass. His eyes flickered down the length of your body and back up again, trailing over your cleavage before meeting your eyes. You were gorgeous.
"Oh, sorry about that!" You smiled brightly. "Didn't mean to run into you, mister."
Joel gave you a polite smile in return. "No problem, ma'am."
You fluttered your eyelids and sashayed away from him, glancing over your shoulder with a flirty little smirk. Joel felt his cheeks blush as he watched you leave, his gaze glued to the way your ass swayed with each step of your heels. Goddamn. He felt the blood rush to his cock. Were you actually flirting with him? No, surely not. You were way too young, way too attractive to want an old man like him. Shit, maybe you were a working girl, looking for a john for the night.
Joel shook his head and turned back to face the cashier's cage. He would have to resign himself to the fantasies in his head tonight.
It wasn't until he finally arrived at the cashier's desk and had his chips counted that Joel realised you had stolen $5,000 from him.
It has been about half an hour since your escape.
Your dress, underwear and heels lay discarded in a heap on the floor of your hotel room. Your unzipped purse sits on the nightstand by the bed, a thick wad of cash poking out from its pocket. You slip into a fluffy white bathrobe and stretch out on the bed to flick through the TV channels. Soon you'll take a bubble bath in the luxurious looking tub, then when your room service order arrives you'll stuff yourself with nachoes and a deluxe chocolate milkshake.
Fuck. You can't remember the last time you had experienced the granduer of being so pampered. You close your eyes for and sigh, savouring the moment of serenity for a minute. Right now you're in heaven, your own personal bubble of indulgence, and it feels fucking amazing.
A knock at the door startles you from your dreamy reverie. That must be room service, you guess. It has arrived earlier than expected, before you had a chance to hop in the bath, but a change in plans doesn't bother you too much. You've got all night, after all. You smile to yourself as you scramble off the bed and pad over to the door.
You twist the handle and open the door, expecting to be greeted by a smiling hotel employee carrying a fancy silver tray. Instead, you are met with the scowling face of the man you conned at the casino, his tall figure crowding the doorway. The sight of him right before you is like a nightemarish hallucination, and you gasp in fright, your heart leaping into your throat.
Despite being so caught off guard by his appearance your survival instincts quickly kick in. You hurry to try and slam the door shut but he's too swift; he wedges his work boot over the threshold to prevent it from closing before shouldering his way inside the room. You squeal and stumble backwards toward the bed, terrified by the intrusion.
How did he find you?
Joel calmly closes the door behind him and turns the lock. The soft sound of the latchbolt clicking into place prompts an ominous twist of dread to coil within your stomach.
Is he going to kill you?
"I'm sor--" you begin to say.
"No one ever teach you right from wrong?" Joel barks angrily, cutting you off. He glares at you with his dark eyes full of ire, his mouth set in a snarl of disgust. His large hands fidget by his sides and you worry that he's trying to repress the urge to beat the shit out of you.
Your heart hammers in your chest as your brain buzzes with anxiety and trepidation. You don't know what to do or say now that he's in such close proximity to you, his intimidating presence crushing all sense of security and confidence from you, leaving not even a modicum of courage in its wake.
Even though your mouth is dry and your throat feels like sandpaper, you speak impulsively before even thinking. "I didn't--"
"Think ya can just do whatever the hell you want?" He snaps, taking a step in your direction. "Steal from hard workin' folk and mess up their lives?"
"No!" You shake your head vehemently and shuffle blindly around the bedframe, not daring to take your eyes off of him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"
Joel snorts derisively and takes another step closer; his footfall is slow and heavy, like he's unhurried to close the gap between you. "Didn't mean to rob me? Didn't meant to steal my money and fuck off?"
"I'll pay you back!" You blurt out in panic.
"Damn right you will," he snipes back. "Every fuckin' cent of it."
You swallow thickly and nod. "O-okay, so, I already spent some to get this room - but only for one night, I swear!" The explanation tumbles from your mouth. "But I can give you the rest now, and I promise I will pay you back!"
Joel's eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick once. "When?" He asks flatly. You stare at him and chew your bottom lip for a moment in deliberation. You already spent your weeks wage on rent and bills, leaving you with about ten dollars to your name until next week.
Shit.
"I, uhm, I get paid next Friday," you mumble sheepishly. "I can get you the money then."
He sighs, a heavy exhalation of frustration from his nose. He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. "'S too late."
"Please, please give me this one chance," you beseech, clasping your hands in front of you, your eyes wide and pleading. "Just give me until then."
"How much? How much did you use for this room?" Joel demands. You pause, trying to remember the nightly rate the concierge charged as well as mentally calculate the added room service.
"Uhm, I-I think it's a-a-bout $350," you stutter nervously. He huffs an exasperated sigh and runs his hand over the bottom half of his face. Seeing the man you swindled look so frustrated makes you feel embarrassed and childlike. "I'm sorry..." you mumble, ashamed of your greed.
"Here's what's gonna happen," Joel tells you sternly. "I'm gonna take back what you stole from me now, and you're gonna pay me that $350 back come Friday. No more excuses, you hear?"
"Yes, ofcourse," you agree earnestly, "I'll pay back every cent, like you said."
You glance over to the purse on the nightstand Joel stares at you in comtemplative silence, his jaw ticking as he assesses the situation.
"You do this often?" Joel asks after a few beats, his voice considerably more softer than before. It seems like he's gradually calming down. "That little slick act, battin' your eyes while you're stealin' from a man."
"No," you reply meekly, dropping your eyes to the floor. "I don't. I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm struggling with money right now...I was desperate."
A tense silence falls upon the room after your shameful admission. You hope he's taking pity upon you, that he can see just how apologetic you really are. But when your gaze shifts from the ground back up to Joel, you can immediately ascertain that sympathy for your circumstances is the last thing on his mind.
Joel remains where he stands, as still as a statue, but there's an unsettling intensity swirling within his chocolate brown orbs as he stares you down. The wrath which had consumed him is no longer reflected in his gaze; it has been replaced by something more sinister - something hungry, predatory. It sends a shiver up your spine.
Suddenly you feel incredibly self conscious; although you are covered by the plush terrytowel robe you feel naked and on display infront of him. You clutch the collar of your robe closed and clear your throat.
"Maybe you can show me just how desperate you are for that money," Joel muses darkly.
Your blood runs cold at the insinuation.
You've got to get out of here as fast as you can.
When he takes another step in your direction, you don't hesitate to launch yourself toward the bathroom to escape. He's swift to follow you, though; he sprints after you and crashes his shoulder against the bathroom door, flinging it wide open, leaving you trapped and with no where to run from him.
Joel might be really fucking angry at your audacity to steal from him, but there is something else bubbling within the scorching heat of his wrath that is far more wicked. It hit him the second you opened the door and gawped at him with wide, scared eyes and a trembling bottom lip. It intensified the longer he watched you flounder and apologise, so helpless and desperate for his understanding, and he found he could not ignore it for long. You look even more pretty than he recalled, especially when you are just wearing that hotel bathrobe.
What had started as a simmering in Joel's loins has escalated into a depraved and maddening state of arousal that has his cock now rock hard in his jeans. Seeing you plead and admit to your recklessness particularly excited him, perhaps because he saw it as an acquiescence to punishment. And Joel was more than happy to dole out punishment - whether you consented to it or not.
He cannot describe the victorious surge of power that overcomes him when he successfully captures you in his grasp. He grips a hunk of hair at the top of your head to keep you still, and you grimace as your scalp stings with the tight pull. His mouth sets into a grim line of determination while his other hand clumsily rips the bathrobe from your body. You shriek and bat at him with curled fists, putting up as much of a fight as you possibly can, but it makes no impact upon him at all - you are so small and weak in comparison to his tall, burly frame.
"Fuck sake," Joel snaps irritably. "Quit fightin' me." He throws the robe to the ground, leaving your naked body trembling with fear before him. He doesn't stop to touch you or even look at you - he just manhandles you over to the sink and shoves your body around to face the mirror. "Hold still."
He pins your hips against the edge of the sink with his own, the action causing your bones to press painfully into the cool marble surface. His iron grip on your hair forces your neck upright so that your face is directly infront of the mirror. You can feel the rough denim of his jeans on the backs of your thighs and the metal of his belt buckle on your ass.
"How about you show me some more of your little tricks," grunts, his low voice gravelly and slightly breathless. "How's that sound?"
"P-p-please don't," you sob, your vision blurring with warm tears. He ignores you, using the side of his boot to kick at your foot and spread your legs apart. You feel his hand jostle behind you as he hurries to unbuckle his belt.
"You want cash so bad?" Joel taunts in your ear, hastily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. "You can earn it. "
He yanks his jeans and underwear down his meaty thighs, freeing his heavy balls and erect cock out of the confines of his underwear, the head already wet with precum. He uses his grip on your hair to roughly push the front of your upper body flat to the bathroom vanity. Your face smushes uncomfortably against the mirror.
"Arch your ass out, bitch." Joel jabs his elbow into the middle of your spine, forcing your hips to involuntarily tilt. "Let me see that fuckin' ass."
His other hand grabs your asscheek and he digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of your flesh, earning a pathetic whine from you. He pulls your cheek to the side to expose your asshole to his perverted gaze before letting out a hungry groan. "Pretty little hole you got there, honey."
He was planning on just fucking your pussy, but holy shit, seeing you spread like this is so tantalising, like your ass is just waiting to be split wide open.
He can't resist.
Joel spits a warm wad of saliva onto your asscrack and watches it slide down to your asshole. Your body jolts at the weird sensation, your limbs vibrating with fear, but Joel's steel grip of your hair keeps you restrained against the vanity.
He uses the fat pads of his two fingers to smear the glob of spit over your hole. He's decided to be generous tonight, giving you a little preparation so you won't pass out on his dick. Yeah, he wants to punish you, but he also doesn't want the goddamn concierge busting down the door because you're screaming in pain.
His fingertips prod at your ring with the clear intention of opening you up, and that's when you start to cry harder, warbling pleas for him to stop and to not to go any further. Joel smirks to himself and pays no heed to your words; he sinks his two fingers into your hole, all the way to his middle knuckles, and you wail at the sharp discomfort.
"Shut up," Joel orders, beginning to scissor his fingers in and out of you. He stares down at his minstrations while you weep pitifully. He's mesmerised by the way your hole clenches and unclenches around his digits, imaginging how perfect you would feel around his cock, squeezing him just right. He keeps fingering you for a little longer until his desire becomes too ravenous to put off any longer.
Joel withdraws his fingers from you, briefly admiring the way you clench around nothing. He takes hold of the head of his cock and jams it against the puckered ring of your asshole, ready to push inside. You start to screech and bash your legs against the vanity in distressed protest, but Joel is quick to subdue you. He crushes his knees into the backs of your thighs, his burly frame easily constraining your lower half.
"Better for both of us if you stop strugglin'," he growls. "Gonna hurt a hell of'a alot more if you don't."
He doesn't waste any longer. He drives his hips forward and forcefully jabs the tip of his fat dick through the first tight ring of your asshole. Your cries suddenly cease as the burning pain engulfs you, your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth falling open in a silent scream. The room fills with the sound of Joel's heavy breathing and the jangle of his belt buckle. He ruts into you, gradually feeding his thick length further inside your ass with shallow, stuttering bursts.
"That's it," Joel croons, voice slurring with lust. "Take it, baby, just take it."
Satisfied that you're now in a state of paralysed submission, he releases his hand from your hair and siezes the cheeks of your ass in both his meaty palms. He spreads them wide and tilts his chin down to watch your defilement, hypnotised by the sight of his cock slowly spearing your tight hole.
Joel eventually slides all the way inside you, his pubic bone flush with the globes of your ass and his heavy balls pressed against the lips of your neglected pussy. He moans brokenly as he revels in the snug warmth enveloping the entirety of his dick.
"Goddamn," he mumbles to himself. "So tight."
Joel retracts his hips until he's pulled almost all the way out of your asshole, then he plunges back inside in one smooth stroke. You expel a guttural howl and grip the edge of the sink so tight your fingertips turn white, your whole body quivering below him.
"Actin' like you ain't never been assfucked before," Joel groans out. He withdraws once more, but this time he slams back into your body with a mighty thrust that forces you to rise up to your tiptoes. He takes pleasure in the ragged scream that rips from your throat and the way your hole contracts around his dick.
"N-n-no," you manage to choke out, your throat thick with unshed tears and mucus. Joel slides his large calloused hands around the curve of your hips to hold you in place before repeating the action again. You bawl again and reach a shaky arm behind you to push against his belly, a futile attempt to get him to stop.
"Don't tell me a slut like you ain't had a dick up her ass," he spits down at you. "Bet that's exactly how you earn your money. When you ain't stealin' it.'
It is impossible for you to muster a response when Joel begins to cant his hips in long strokes, gradually busting you open. The momentum of his broad body keeps your face shoved close against the mirror, the glass fogging with every loud, agonised sob you emit. His balls smack lewdly against your skin with each thrust.
Your body goes slack against the vanity counter as Joel continues to violate you over and over. He's lost in the animalistic pursuit of his pleasure and your punishment, his hefty cock barrelling in and out of your tight asshole with a merciless rhythm. His fingers squeeze your hips in a bruising hold. You feel so good wrapped around him, too fragile to fight back.
"Thought about fuckin' ya," Joel admits inbetween heavy pants. "At the casino. Wanted to fuck you so bad when I first saw ya."
You weep pathetically, lungs aching with every battered breath you inhale, your body going more slack and weak the longer Joel indulges in your suffering. He is so big, bigger than any other man you've ever been with, and there is no way you could adjust to his girth so suddenly, especially in your ass.
"Maybe I shoulda just slipped you a twenty. Bet that woulda had you droppin' your panties right then and there."
Saliva pools in your mouth and drips out the corners of your lips as your mind starts to detach from your physical body.
"Wreckin' ya good, ain't that right, baby?" Joel moans. "Fillin' you up so good, ain't gonna be able to walk for days."
He continues fucking you with a possessed, primal rapacity. He can't remember the last time he fucked with such reckless abandon - maybe never - and he knows he won't last long. He's too drunk on the domination he holds over you to delay his orgasm any longer.
"Gonna ruin this slutty asshole. Have you leakin' everywhere."
Joel pistons into you harder and faster as he chases his orgasm. His heart beat pounds in his ears and he can no longer hear your cries when his escasty soon reaches a fever pitch. It hits him with a blinding intensity that he wasn't prepared for; his head back falls back and his eyes squeeze shut as he explodes inside your ass.
"Fuck," he grunts and huffs like a beast. "Fuck, take it, ya little whore, take it all."
You whimper as he slows down his movements to a rocking motion, sawing back and forth to let your asshole milk the cum from his cock. When he's finished, Joel slips his softening cock out of you, coaxing a vulgar squelching sound from your hole.
He staggers backward, his gait slightly off balance as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. His chest heaves as he stares at your naked ravaged body sprawled infront of him. Your legs tremble for a moment before you collapse onto the bathroom floor, unable to remain standing without Joel's strength pinning you. You hug your arms around your shaking body and curl up on the ground, tears and snot spilling down your face.
Joel watches you wordlessly. He wipes his hand down his sweaty face and sighs. He doesn't feel remorse - why should he? You ripped him off. You stole money he needs for his business, for his house, for his daughter. You deserved this.
You don't dare look at him while he hitches up his underwear and jeans. All you want is for this nightmare of a man to finally leave you alone to lick your wounds. He tucks himself back in and belts up while you dig your fingernails into your arms, deep enough to draw blood.
You hear the heavy footfalls of his boots as he swaggers out of the bathroom. He crosses to the nightstand and retrieves the wad of cash from your purse. He stops to study your ID card, noting your age and your name. Fuck, you're younger than he thought. He scans over your address. And you live in a shitty part of town. Maybe you really were desperate. He flicks through the bills of money and counts, making sure the $4,650 is still there, then stuffs it in his pocket.
Joel walks back to the bathroom but doesn't enter, instead lingering outside, not bothering to give you another look. "Forget the three fifty," he calls from the doorway, his voice gruff. "You earned it."
It goes quiet for a few moments, then you hear the front door unlock and open. It shuts with a resounding thud and your wish to be alone is granted.
A/N: A dark, paranormal, romance set in an urban fantasy!
Tags: Achillean Romance, Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Creature Feature, Dark Fiction, Fae AU, Underage Character(s)
Summary
Bucky is determined to make a good impression.
Bingos and Events:
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Dark Deception Bingo - School
Neverwhere Bingo - Something Hunting You from the Shadows
Valentine Trope Flash - Card 1: Chocolate Lava Cake, Card 2: Strawberry Mousse, Card 4: Turkish Delight
Wonderland Bingo - Arson
@fictober-event: 2025 - “This is annoying.”
@halloweenhorrorbingo: 2024 - Drinking Blood
@hurtcomfort-bingo: Pick Your Poison Bingo - Dizziness
@julybreakbingo: 2025 - Vampire AU
@kinktober-2025 - Day 7: Bloodplay
Macrocest: Winter Bingo - Free Space
@monsterfucktoberbingo - Free Space
@monthlywritingchallenges: Darktober - Alt Prompt: A smile you shouldn't trust
@multifandom-flash: Here There Be Monsters Bingo - Seelie
Description: (2.2K~ words) You knew William had emotional baggage, but finding an actual bag of torture tools was too much. Argument with a happy (but dark) ending. Reader is in an established relationship with William Tell.
*I tried to write Reader as gender neutral. Reader is a morally dark character.
Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!
Written for @romana-after-dark 's Dead Dove December 2024 Event
Violence: Choking, Knife Wound, Blood, Allusions to Torture, Yelling/Arguing, Restraint, Fear, Nightmares. Sexual: Innuendo, Oral (M receiving - not detailed), Mention of Sex/ Sex Acts (not detailed)
Swearing. Use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc.). Not Beta’d. (Please let me know if I missed any warnings).
~~~~~~~~~~~
William startles awake at the click of handcuffs locking into place. He lifts his head enough to see you standing at the end of the bed. William tries to move his wrists and realizes they are locked to the heavy headboard.
"Sweetheart, I thought we were playing after dinner?" William says, keeping his tone steady and calm even as adrenaline floods his body.
You shift your weight and plant your hands on your hips. You keep your voice calm above the anger roiling through you. "William, why do you have a bag of torture shit in our room?"
He freezes. His surprise and fear are both obvious to you, though he tries to hide both.
"What are you talking about?" He says in a low voice.
You lean over and pick something up from the floor; you drop a large leather bag on the bed between his ankles with a heavy clunk. His face goes pale at the sight of it.
"This is yours, right, honey?" You ask sweetly. Your eyes burn with rage behind the mask of calm on your face.
"Don't -" William orders sharply at the same moment that you open it.
You pull out the first thing on top - a pair of blue-green medical gloves.
"You're a very clean person, William, but with what else I see in here, I think I should put these on."
"Sweetheart, stop -" he tries again. He flinches at the sound of one of the gloves snapping against your skin as you put them on. He's breathing quickly when you pull out the first item and hold it up for him to see.
"Pliers?" You place them on the bed, next to his leg.
"Hammer." That goes next to his other leg; he flinches as you brush your hand over his knee when you straighten up.
William swears quietly and yanks at the handcuffs.
"Pruning shears. You don't have a garden, William," you spit out angrily. "Why do you have these?"
He doesn't try to answer, only pulling on the handcuffs more.
You reach into the other side of the bag and pull out several stacks of cash. You quirk an eyebrow at him before tossing each bundle onto the bed around him.
A sheathed knife comes out next. This one you recognize from the self-defense lessons he's been giving you. You clip it to your belt.
You remove the rest of the items without comment, laying them out around him. By the time you have the bag empty, William is breathing heavily and pulling on the handcuffs continuously. He has his eyes closed tightly.
"Baby," he begins quietly.
"You told me this was all in the past!" You scream.
William flinches at your volume, then snaps his eyes open and meets yours with a pleading look.
"It is, sweetheart-"
"Then what am I supposed to think about all of this? And that you kept it secret? Were you," you swallow hard, trying to keep your tears of frustration and anger in check, "were you going to use this stuff on me?" You take a step back from the bed and the tools laid out around him.
The fear in your face makes William wince. The thought of you leaving fills him with dread. He couldn't handle it, not with how important you are to him. You've made everything better for him; even his nightmares have almost stopped since you started sleeping next to him. His heart races as he frantically tries to reassure you.
"No," he answers, forcing words past the tremble in his lips. "Of course not! I would never, ever do that to you, sweetheart." He hopes you see the sincerity in his eyes and believe him.
"Then explain," you say more gently. "Please?"
William looks at you standing over his tools, wearing his gloves; he tastes bile on the back of his throat. This was all wrong. You weren't supposed to touch this part of his world; he didn't even want you to see these things. How had he allowed this to happen? He had been so careful-
"William."
Your gloved hand on his cheek breaks him out of his thoughts. He catches the concern in your eyes, along with something much, much worse for him: determination.
Oh no. No no no. William knows how stubborn you can be when you want, and he can tell from the look on your face that you're not going to let this go. Fear spikes through him at the thought of telling you more about his darker side. You won't understand; you'll be afraid.
You'll leave him.
Something clicks into place for William, and he realizes that he cannot let you leave. He's not going to let you leave. He deliberately relaxes his body, then meets your sincere gaze with a cold stare.
"You're going to unlock these cuffs now," William says in a commanding voice.
You tut at him and pat his knee as you sit next to him on the bed. "Oh baby, that trick doesn't work on me when I know you can't get your hands free."
William sinks back against the bed a little. He takes a deep breath and studies you as he lets it back out. His face smooths into an emotionless mask.
"Sweetheart, what's your plan here?" he asks. His voice is low and dangerously calm.
Your stomach drops at his sudden change.
"If I answer all your questions, what then?" he continues. "You gonna uncuff me? Will you ever trust me around you again?"
He licks his lips and watches you like a lion behind glass at the zoo.
"If you really thought that I was dangerous, then what did you think I would do to you once my hands are free? At the very least, I should punish you for misusing our bedroom equipment."
You shudder and stand up, closing your eyes briefly. His words make sense, but worse than that is the way they shoot desire straight to your core.
You open your eyes and meet his gaze. William has that little smirk he gets when he knows he's making you hot.
"I know you much better than you want to admit, sweetheart," he says in that gentle tone he uses to comfort you.
You feel a twist of guilt in your chest. William does know you very well. He picks up on every detail about you, good and bad, and he never judges you for it. It's one of the things that attracted you to him in the first place.
It's also why you find yourself considering what he says next.
"Unlock these cuffs now, and I'll make your punishment quick. If you're gooood," he draws out the word, knowing how it will shoot desire through you, "then I'll take care of that ache between your legs after," he promises with a knowing smile.
You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him. "I know what you're trying to do. Why can't you just answer the question?"
William stares at you calmly.
You sigh and move to the foot of the bed.
"I'm not letting you up until you tell me why you still have all this stuff," you say. You start to pack the tools scattered all over the bed back into the leather bag.
William shifts his body to sit up, hands still cuffed and held to the side. "Alright."
You halt your movements and look at him expectantly.
"Will you please bring me some water? Then we can talk," he says quietly.
You nod once before walking to the kitchen. You are pleased with your victory, but you don't completely trust it. He's probably going to try to talk you out of it again.
You return with the water, and your heart practically stops in your chest.
William is not on the bed.
You scream as something collides with you. The drink drops from your hand and shatters on the floor, flinging water and sharp glass everywhere. William has you pinned against the wall before you can even think to fight back.
His breath fans over your ear when he speaks. "You forgot that we bought those handcuffs in a sex shop; there's a safety unlock feature."
You roll your eyes at your mistake.
While his knees pin your legs, William yanks your hands over your head. You groan at the sharp pain.
"Shit hurts, don't it?" He crows at your pained sound.
"William -"
"Quiet," he snaps. He holds your wrists in one hand while the other slithers down to circle your neck. "Just be quiet while I decide how to punish you."
You whimper loudly, and his eyes take on an even darker gleam.
"You saw all that shit in that bag, chose to piss me off, and I'm standing here with my hand around your throat," he squeezes a little bit, making you shudder, "and you're still, still not going to follow instructions? You can't be quiet and let me think for one minute?" His hand tightens on your neck.
You close your eyes against the anger in his gaze, but you are careful not to make a sound. You stay still as your body screams at you to take a breath, to fight against his hold. Suddenly, he loosens his grip, and you suck in a breath as quietly as you can.
William rests his hand on your chest. He's breathing heavily.
"You can't leave, sweetheart. Do you understand? You can't leave me. Ever."
You nod quickly. "I understand, William, I do."
His gaze softens, and for a moment, you think he's going to let you go.
"It's alright, sweetheart; you don't have to convince me," he says in a voice that is half tired, half sad. He runs a finger over your cheek. "I'm going to make sure that you understand."
His hand reaches for the knife on your belt.
Adrenaline shoots through you. You shift your weight and stomp hard on his bare foot. He turns instinctively to protect his body, and his grip on your wrists loosens. You can't get his weight off of you, but you do manage to get your hand down to free the knife. You keep it low to your side and try to shake him off. He staggers back enough for you to get a couple steps away. You remind yourself not to drop the knife, don't drop it, don't let him get it-
William tackles you to the ground. You scream as the knife shears deep into your side with the impact. You go limp in his grip, and he turns you over onto your back.
"See what happens-" the snarled words die on his tongue as he notices the pain and shock on your face.
A flash of red catches his eye. William looks down your body with a growing sense of dread. He sees the knife, not in the sheath at your side, but stuck into your side. There's too much blood, way too much blood, and now he knows you're going to leave him in a much, much worse way-
+++
William jerks awake next to you with a yell.
You sit up and reach for him immediately.
"What's wrong, baby?" You ask with concern.
"Nightmare. Real bad one," he grits out between shuddering breaths.
You get closer and wrap your arms around him.
"I was hurting you," he says, almost sobbing.
"Oh? We do that all the time? Thought you said it was a nightmare…" you tease gently.
He shakes his head, not even reacting to your joke. "Not like that. Really hurting you. I couldn't - couldn't stop it. You were bleeding… there was so much blood -" William heaves out a sob.
You pull him against you more tightly. "It was only a dream, honey."
"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so completely fucked up. You should not be with me," he whispers past his tears.
William can't see your smile. He doesn't see the sudden sheen of purple over your eyes as you drink down his fear greedily.
"Don't worry, honey; you're perfect for me," you soothe.
And he really is. When you first met him, William had the most delicious nightmares, fear pulsing so strongly that he would wake up in a cold sweat, unable to find sleep again. Now with you slurping down his fear, he hardly ever has them.
Luckily, the casinos you both visit are full of desperate, fearful people, and since William can intimidate and inspire fear so easily himself, you never have to hunt.
He's such a good boyfriend that you almost feel bad about pushing this nightmare on William, but sometimes you just can't resist. His fear tastes so much sweeter to you than anyone else's.
You pull back to see his face. It's all scrunched and wet with tears and anxiety, just for you.
"I'm not going anywhere, William" you reassure him with a smile.
William stares at you with equal parts apprehension and reverence.
"Now, should we take care of that before we get back to sleep?" You motion to the outline of his dick tenting his sleep pants.
His eyes grow wide. "Sweetheart, you don't need to - "
"I want to," you cut him off gently. You lick your lips as you meet his gaze. "I'm always so hungry for you, William."
"Fuck, yeah, ok," he answers quickly, lips turning up in a lopsided smile.
You help him slide his pants off and toss them at the end of the bed. You waste no time in getting your tongue on him. William moans and tries not to buck into your mouth; he's not going to last long. You hum around him happily. You're going to suck the last delicious bits of dream-induced fear out of him through his cock, and he'll thank you for it.
chapter 3: you still had me thinking I'm crazy (wish I knew then what I know now)
⟢ read: ao3 ➢ squidgeworld
⟢ author: a dark forest witch
⟢ rating: explicit ➢ nc-17
⟢ fandom(s): captain america: the winter soldier
⟢ pairing: james “bucky” barnes/steve rogers
⟢ tags: alternate universe - fusion, body horror, dark fiction, post tws, deranged!steve, consent issues, sexual content, watersports
⟢ word count: 5,671
Steve realizes that he can do some serious damage to Winter if he doesn’t let him rest by the scent of copper and rust intensifying in his nose. The heat from the shower traps the aroma in the air. He’s so in tune with his own body right now, he can tell exactly where the tears in Winter’s walls are. They’re from his own dick after all.
⟢ summary: Steve knows Bucky wants more, he can see the boy he used to love haunting him from the tired blue-grey irises of the man he saved. He wants Bucky too, so bad, but he can’t have him. Night after night he’s plagued with nightmares that terrify him. What’s worse? He wants what’s in them. He wants the darkness that’s brimming within him to be unleashed, he wants to take and take and take. How could he allow Bucky to experience that? No, no way. He can’t do it, he won’t.
⟢ @deaddovedec ⟡ 2024 ⟡ week 5 ⟡ day 30: non-con body transformation ⟢
⟢ @fairytalebingo ⟡ 2025 ⟡ free space ⟢
⟢ @thefairytalebingo ⟡ demon ⟢
⟢ @fandombingo ⟡ dark deception bingo ⟡ darkest desire ⟡ valentine trope flash ⟡ she he aches for the hand around her his throat ⟡ wonderland bingo ⟡ sexual harassment ⟢
⟢ @fandom-free-bingo ⟡ dream edition ⟡ demon au ⟢
⟢ @halcyonianlove ⟡ rape ⟢
⟢ @julybreakbingo ⟡ pre july 25 ⟡ canon divergence ⟡ kink: intersex ⟡ jbb 25 ⟡ kink: overstimulation ⟢
We are a dark holiday-themed Bucky Barnes event. Below, you will find the prompts for each day of December, along with alternate options.
As this is our second year we just want to reiterate that this is a no-pressure, for-fun event that offers over 50 prompts to fulfill your dark needs during the holiday season! Please be aware that the prompts on this list will contain dark and potentially disturbing themes and may not be suitable for all audiences.
Our new prompt list will be posted later today and we hope everyone who participates has a fun writing experience. If you have any questions our inbox is open.
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ❆ 𝐀𝐨𝟑 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞
1. Roasting on an open fire // Sweater Swelter
2. Torture // Bloodloss
3. Castration // Heartwarming
4. Forced To Watch // Punishment
5. Handmade // Glued Shut
6. Frostbite // Stocking - Stalking
7. Cuffed // Collared // Cold (Free Day)
𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨
8. Naughty or Sliced // Lights
9. Bricked Up // Chimney // Stockholm Syndrome
10. Sleep Deprivation // Waiting All Night
11. Restraint // Humiliation
12. Jolly // Folly // Slay
13. Kidnapped // Under The Tree
14. Something Red // Something Dead (Free Day)
𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞
15. Countdown // Out of time
16. Wrapped // Whipped
17. Blackmail // Letters To Santa // Holiday Hunting
18. Starved // Stuffed // Cannibalism
19. Snuff // Home Movies (Filming) (Free Day)
20. Used As Decoration // Dehumanization
21. Monsterfucking // Holiday spirit
𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫
22. Necrophilia // Given As A Gift
23. Sacrifice In Vain // Spiked // Drugged
24. Loss of Consent // Blood Splatter
25. Twisted Celebration // Silent Night (Free Day)
26. Breathless // Survival // Passed Around
27. Confined To Bed // Cabin Fever
28. Fighting For Life // After Death // Strangulation
𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞
29. Hypothermia // Co-Dependency
30. Non - Con Body Transformation // Brought Back
31. Cheers // Fears // New Year
𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐬
Silk Ribbon, Trapped In The Ice, Candy Caned, Consensual Hypnosis, Last Christmas, Chopping, A Light In The Dark, First Night, Silk Ribbon, Skullfucking, Chained, Unneeded Amputation, Incest, Snowballing, Conditioning
Special thanks to @vesearlee for creating the spectacular header and dividers for this event!
Summary: You wake up in William’s hotel room. You don’t make it out of there alive.
Warnings: 18+, gore (cutting, blood, removal of organs, death), restraints, knives, language. Reader’s gender and physical appearance aren’t specified
a/n: this is gross and bloody and weird. participating in @romana-after-dark DD December event !! title is from ‘forget to remember’ by mudvayne
You went out last night; celebrating something that seems so unimportant now. It all feels so far away.
You met someone you shouldn’t have.
He was mysterious, charming. He bought you a drink. That was your first mistake.
You wake up in a bed that isn’t your own. A motel room. Every piece of furniture is wrapped in a white sheet. It feels sterile, clinical—at the same time, it feels filthy, grimy. You feel a weight like stones in the pit of your stomach.
The weight sinks deeper when you realize that you’re restrained—arms and legs—strapped down to the bed.
You try to scream—you can’t. You’re gagged, a piece of fabric tied around your head and settled snugly in between your jaws.
He’s there, sitting in a chair across from the bed, watching you. You can’t take your eyes off of his face, trying to memorize every feature of him in case you make it out of here alive.
Tall—no, average height. Brown eyes. Grey hair, slicked back. He’s wearing the same clothes you saw him in last night—dress shirt, slacks. This time, though, he’s got latex gloves. Medical ones.
You feel sick to your stomach.
He watches as you wake up, struggle. There’s no emotion on his face. As sick as it is, you would’ve at least wanted to see him smile. Then, you could have the justification in your mind that he found this enjoyable.
But…nothing.
He stands from his chair, walking over to you. You’re afraid, panicking. He’s so calm. Why is he so calm?
The thought that he does this enough to be desensitized scares you even more.
Maybe this is just a weird sex thing, you think to yourself. Maybe I’m misunderstanding.
You’re still dressed, which offers you the tiniest bit of comfort. For now.
He’s at your side now, and you’re terrified. He reaches out, putting a hand on your sternum, right at the base of your throat.
“Quiet.” Is all he tells you.
You swallow roughly, nodding hurriedly in an effort to obey his every word. Maybe if you do everything he says, he’ll let you go; that’s all that you can think about, that this is some kind of power thing.
On the bedside table, there’s a pair of scissors, clearly brand new, and a knife. The sight alone makes your head fuzzy with anxiety, panic settling into that space behind your teeth and in the back of your throat.
He picks up the scissors. You struggle against the restraints, trying to break free, to get a hold of something to defend yourself, anything.
But you can’t.
“I used to do this for a living, did you know that?” He starts, his tone calm and low, like he’s talking to you about the weather.
The scissors cut through the hem of your shirt like a hot knife through butter. He continues to cut as he talks, acting as if this is the most normal thing in the world.
“Every fucking day, I saw so many guys who would come in, and just…never come out.” He shakes his head as he talks, clearly reminiscing about this all.
You have no fucking idea what he’s talking about, but you listen anyway, like his word is gospel.
It doesn’t take him very long to get your shirt cut open, the fabric pooling lamely on either side of your chest—you’re starting to understand that this probably isn’t some weird sex thing, and now have to come to terms with the fact that he is very likely going to kill you.
Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest; if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he can hear it.
“So many young guys—soldiers—they didn’t know any better. Just following orders.”
He pauses, clears his throat. Sets down the scissors.
“They’re all dead now, so it doesn’t really matter what they were doing.”
For the briefest of moments, you swear you can see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he talks, like the memory itself is fighting to keep some sense of morality in him.
It’s gone before you can even realize that it was there in the first place.
He picks up the knife, and that anxiety settles in your chest once again, flooding through your veins.
In any other circumstance, you’d say that it's a beautiful knife—polished wooden handle, slightly curved, razor-sharp steel blade. He likes this one, clearly a favorite of his.
You don’t know whether to feel honored or terrified.
He moves so sure, like every motion is practiced and certain.
There’s no hesitation when he presses the cold steel to your chest, right against your sternum; it slices through your skin with no resistance.
You scream, but your voice is so muffled by the gag, that it ultimately doesn’t matter. You struggle against the restraints, but it feels like they only get tighter.
The blade trails from the point between your collarbones, down your chest, and stops just past your navel. Your adrenaline is pumping, and you can feel the way your blood pools on your skin.
“It was going on for so long, I got numb to it,” he continues, seeming to just talk mindlessly as he takes you apart, piece by piece.
“Stopped caring about what I was doing; I got sloppy.”
Two more cuts, parallel to your collarbones and meeting with the cut he’s already made.
He’s opening you up, like a cadaver to be autopsied.
Your adrenaline is pumping so hard that you can barely even feel it anymore; your eyes are wide, tears spilling out and down your face as you watch this man—if you can even call him that—cut you open in such a way.
You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that you’re going to die, right here, in a shitty motel room.
The blade cuts through your body so easily, the metal clearly so razor sharp that it meets no resistance when it meets your muscle tissue.
Gloved fingers tuck beneath the layer of skin and muscle that protects your organs, pulling them away like he’s unwrapping a gift. Your head is spinning—dizzy and trembling from the adrenaline and the fear. The pain.
“Spent a long time trying to forget a lot of the things I did when I was there.”
You can barely even hear him anymore; it all sounds so distant, your brain going into overdrive trying to protect you from this.
His hand skims across your internals—your stomach, your intestines, your liver. His touch is almost reverent. In some sick, grotesque way you feel flattered.
Like you were good enough for him.
You can’t see where he brings the knife, but you know it’s somewhere inside; you’ve gone numb from the adrenaline, so you’re just a helpless bystander now in your own murder.
You feel the pressure of the cut; he pulls away with your large intestine in hand, and sets it down on the sheet beside you, staining the white fabric red.
It feels clinical, like a biologist taking apart an animal for research.
“I spent so long trying to push all that away, that—“ he pauses, chuckling to himself.
“—that I almost forgot how good I am at this.”
You watch him as he continues to work, eyes glassy with tears, the adrenaline flooding your veins and making this feel more and more like a terrible nightmare than your horrifying reality.
Your small intestine is next, cut away from all the connective tissues and set out on the sheet as well. A small part of you feels bad for the poor housekeeper that will probably come across your eviscerated corpse.
Your liver. Your stomach. All cut away and set down beside you.
Somehow, he hasn’t managed to get any blood on himself besides the blue latex gloves, which have been stained thoroughly with your own blood.
This is transactional to him, he’s treating it like any other day.
You watch him dumbly as he works, filled with too much shock and adrenaline to do much else anymore. You know you’re going to die.
He seems to appreciate that.
“Thank you,” he tells you, and it’s bittersweet.
He brings a hand up, resting it on your cheek; a bloodied thumb wipes away some of your tears.
The moment of tenderness lingers, and a small part of you is grateful for that.
He moves, knife in hand, and presses the blade to the untouched skin of your arm, slitting your wrist. He does the same to your other wrist. Blood pours from the cuts, seeping into the fabric of the once-pristine white sheets.
He’s mercy-killing you, if you can even call it that.
You can feel the blade press against your throat, and your heart flutters weakly in your opened chest. You’re already faint from the adrenaline and the removal of your organs, but this helps.
Putting you out of your misery.
He presses down, and the blade cuts through easily, severing the artery in your throat. Thick, dark blood pours from your neck and soaks the sheets, the mattress.
You swear that you see him smile, just barely, before your vision blacks out.
A/N: This is my second submission for @romanarose Dead Dove December. So it’s dark. Please read the warnings and tags and if it’s not for you, scroll on by. Please protect yourselves.
Summary: This is the same story as To Be Your First but from Joel’s perspective. Again, it’s dark.
Warnings: Non-con, DDDNE, intoxication, somnophilia, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, virginity loss, age gap, dirty talk. Let me know if I missed anything.
Joel was careful not to get caught staring at you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. And he definitely didn’t want your dad, his friend and neighbour to catch him ogling his 19 year old daughter in her skimpy bikini.
He’d known you the majority of your life, becoming firm friends with your dad when he moved in next door when you were just 4 years old. You’d called him Uncle Joel when you were younger and Sarah, 10 years your senior, had been your babysitter before she flew the nest. So it was definitely wrong for his cock to get hard at the sight of your beautiful body, at the thought of your smooth skin and soft pussy. But he couldn’t help it. You’d been a late bloomer but by God had it been worth the wait, returning from your first year away at college transformed into a Goddess. He couldn’t decide if he liked your tits or ass more. He dreamed of those beautiful thighs squeezing round his head. God he would like to bury himself between them and stay there for the rest of his life.
He’d excused himself to the bathroom and jerked himself off frantically, coming so quickly he caught himself by surprise. It took him a good while to clean his spunk off the floor and counter, making sure he left no trace of his depravity behind. Midway through his clean-up he heard the sound of you and your friend giggling filtering in through the open window of the bathroom. Your bedroom window must be open too.
“So you’re really going to do it? About time!” Your friend teased. He hadn’t caught her name, he’d been too busy trying to wrench his attention from your chest.
“Shhh Anna lower your voice,” you giggled, “but yes. Started on birth control and everything. Brad has booked a hotel in the city. He knows it’s my first time and wants it to be special.”
“I can’t believe you’re still a virgin,” Anna laughed.
“Yeah because all the boys in high school were such catches. No way was I doing it with any of them. And Brad is so amazing so I’m glad I waited.”
“When is the momentous occasion?”
“Two weeks. He wanted to go this weekend but we have the block party and it’s our turn to host this year. My mom is stressing the fuck out and if I told her I wasn’t going to be here she’d go ballistic!”
Joel couldn’t listen anymore, the blood was rushing in his ears and he felt lightheaded. His clean-up finished he snuck out of the bathroom, careful not to make a sound, and down the stairs, avoiding all the ones he knew creaked. He didn’t want you to know he’d been eavesdropping.
“You ok Joel, you been up there a long time,” your dad said as Joel entered the living room.
“Stomach’s a bit iffy, gona head out.”
“Ok sure thing, you don’t look so great if I’m being honest. Feel better soon, let us know if you need anything.”
Joel made his escape and made the short walk back to his house, trying to decipher this feeling that had overtaken him. Disappointment? Jealousy? Anger? Probably a mix of all 3. You were going to let some undeserving little shithead touch that pretty little pussy. His pretty little pussy. He wasn’t sure where that possessive hunger had come from but he didn’t doubt it. You were for him he was sure of it. It was his destiny to be your first. You’d had a crush on him in your early teens he knew. He thought it was so cute how you’d get breathless and flustered around him. You still did on occasion. It had given his ego such a boost. And now you were going to throw away your virginity on some boy who wouldn’t know how to please a woman if he had a step by step guide, when you should be trusting it to Joel. It looked like if he wanted it, he’d have to take it. And he didn’t have much time to plan.
The day of the street party rolled around and everything was prepared. Tonight was the night and Joel was high on the adrenaline coursing through him. His timing had to be on point. He didn’t want this to be a rushed fumble, he wanted to take his time with you. He knew the drill with parties at your house having attended several over the years. Upstairs was strictly off limits so he didn’t have to worry about being interrupted by any of the other guests. He just had to make sure to pick a time that would mean your parents would be occupied and unlikely to make an appearance. That meant in time with the fireworks. They’d both be involved in the setting up and no way would either miss them after the amount they’d spent on them, a fact your father had grumbled about to Joel numerous times over the last few weeks.
That just left the issue of how to get you up the stairs and compliant. A fairly easy solution, if not very elegant. Joel was going to get you shitfaced. He knew your parents let you drink if they were present so it was easy enough to sneak extra shots into your red solo cup through the night. You were well on your way to being good and drunk when your dad had cut you off. Joel had conspiratorially slipped you another couple of drinks when your dad wasn’t looking with a wink. The little giggle you gifted him with the last one went straight to his cock. It had been easy enough to slip in some of the crushed up pain meds he’d brought with him into that last one.
Knowing the time was close he slipped into the house picking up a glass and a bag he had stashed earlier from the kitchen before sneaking up the stairs. He grabbed a towel and some washcloths from the closet opposite the bathroom and entered your room. He pulled back the covers on your bed and laid out the towel. Just as with his cum in the bathroom, he didn’t want to leave behind any traces and couldn’t risk you making a mess on the bedsheets. He filled the glass with water and dampened the washcloths in the bathroom before leaving them all on your nightstand. Happy everything was in order he snuck back downstairs.
His intention was to go out and bring you back into the house under the guise of getting you some water but as he moved towards the kitchen he heard voices. He peeked round the door and saw you slumped against the counter with that little fucker Brad admonishing you for being so drunk.
“Look at you, you’re hammered. You’re a disgrace!”
You slurred out a string of nonsense, punctuated by a hiccup.
“Whatever. Sort yourself out.” Brad stormed out, leaving you slumped against the counter. Joel thanked his lucky stars. No one would even see him with you. Divine providence he thought. Further proof that this was meant to happen. He saw you stumble your way through the kitchen and was there to catch you as your legs gave way.
“Easy darlin’.”
He bent down and swept your legs from under you. You moaned and your head fell into his chest as he carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. He left you on the bed atop his carefully laid towel before closing and locking the door behind him.
You were almost completely unconscious now. He removed your shoes carefully before pulling up your torso to remove your dress, leaving your pretty tits on display for him finally as you slumped back onto the bed. He was painfully hard at the sight, his cock ready to rip the seams of his pants.
Next he pulled your underwear down and off your body. He stood there a moment to admire you fully.
“So fuckin’ pretty.”
He couldn’t keep his hands off you for another minute. One hand on either knee he prised your legs apart, letting out a soft groan at the first sight of your perfect pussy. His hands stroked up your thighs, revelling in the softness of your skin. Once his hands reached the tops of your thighs he couldn’t stop himself from giving them a squeeze. His left hand pulled out his phone, already open to the camera and hit record as his right hand skated over your mound and down to run his fingers through your folds. He found your little clit with ease, rubbing over it with gentle pressure. The moan that you let out nearly had him coming in his pants.
“Yeah, that feel good baby?”
“Mmmmmmm.”
That was all the encouragement he needed to keep going. Dropping his phone he leant forward and began lapping at your pussy, licking and sucking your clit as his fingers travelled lower in search of where you were open for him, feeling your arousal beginning to drip out of you. You let out another moan just as he slid two fingers inside of you. You were so fucking tight. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in you. His tongue kept working your clit as he fingered you, picking up speed and curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot that would have you seeing stars.
He wasn’t even sure if you would be able to climax in your current state but he felt the tell-tale tightening of your cunt round his fingers.
“Yeah that’s it baby, can tell you’re getting close, such a good girl.”
He leaned back in, his tongue working furiously over your clit and his fingers relentless inside of you, your moans music to his ears as your pussy fluttered and clenched on his fingers and your slick gushed over his hand.
“Fuuuuck baby, such a good job, making me so happy coming so hard.”
He looked at your face and realised you were completely passed out. He placed a quick kiss on your clit and pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to enjoy the taste of you. He was ready to bust. He need a minute to gather himself or this would be over before it even started. He pulled himself off you and took a few deep breaths. He let his hands roam over your body for a few minutes, groaning when he finally got hold of your tits, so soft and supple and perky. They fit his hands nicely and he loved the way they felt when he squeezed them. He ran his thumbs over your nipples before pinching them, earning him a whimper from you.
He took off his shirt, and pulled his aching cock out, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs before climbing back between your legs. He lay on top of you fully, pressing a few little kisses to your lips and jaw before kneeling back up and picking up his phone again. He wanted to immortalise this moment. Hitting record again he lined up the shot. Running his hand over your pussy to gather some slick he then used it to pump his cock a few times, coating himself in you. Gripping the base of his cock he lined himself up with your hole and pushed the fat head in.
“Oh Jesus, fuck.” Your pussy clamped down on the intrusion as you let out a whimper. He worked you open with small shallow thrusts, pushing in a little further each time until his dick was about half way in you. Moving his free hand to grip at your hip he rammed himself forward with one powerful thrust, his balls connecting with your ass as he split you open.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
His brain short circuited. He remained still, unable to move, unable to think of anything but your tight, warm, wet pussy gripping onto his cock like it never wanted to let go. He’d never been inside a cunt as perfect as yours. His heart was about to beat out of his chest. As sense returned, he pulled out slowly. Still recording. He bit his lip so hard it bled to stop from coming when he saw your blood coating his cock. It was his. Your virginity was his. Fuck you Brad.
He pushed in and out a few times slowly, making sure to capture how your pussy opened for him with his phone. He knew he’d never get tired of watching these videos. He then deposited the phone on your nightstand, still recording. He lowered his body over yours, taking his weight on his forearms before thrusting into you, slowly at first but building pace as he went, soaking up all the moans you let slip and relishing the sinful sounds of your wet pussy swallowing his cock and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.
He tried to keep quiet but couldn’t control the grunts that slipped out with each magnificent thrust into your heavenly body. He saw your eyelids flutter open and watched as your face contorted in confusion but he never let up from the steady snap of his hips.
“Ssstop.”
“Shhh baby its ok, be over soon”
“Huuuuuurts.”
“It’ll pass baby. Ohhhhhh fuck, you’re taking this cock so good. So wet for me, so tight, such a good girl.”
Your eyes drifted closed again and he continued to use you. He never wanted it to end. You came round every few minutes, he whispered reassurances in your ear each time between grunts.
Knowing his time must be growing to a close he began to ramp up his speed, snaking his hand between you to rub at your clit. He had to feel you come on his cock. He hadn’t failed to notice that your moans were coming quicker and louder. You were tightening around him, he leant his head down to suck your pretty nipple into his mouth. As he grazed it with his teeth he felt you climax, your pussy pulsing and clenching around him. It was divine and it made him feel like a God. He stilled his hips inside you to fully enjoy your climax and the feel of your walls clamping down on him.
As the aftershocks abated he picked up his thrusts again, not even bothering to build up, railing into you, chasing his own high. It didn’t take long, you released another beautiful noise and his orgasm barrelled into him. He buried himself as deep as he could and let go, spurting deep inside you with a long, low groan of satisfaction. His arms gave out beneath him at the intensity of it and collapsed on top of you, driving into you a few more times, releasing further ropes of his hot white seed.
“Fuck yes, oh yes, yes, yes”
It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had in his life. He wished he could steal you away, take you whenever he wanted. Worship your body day and night.
Forcing his mind back to the present he pulled himself out of you, looking down at you he saw that your eyes were open. He didn’t know when you had woken up, too lost in the pleasure your body provided. You blinked once before your eyes slipped closed and you fell back asleep. He bent over to kiss your forehead before pushing his cock back into his pants.
“Did so good for me princess, I’m so proud o’ you.”
His first order of business was to take some photos of your tits and his cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. They’d complement the videos he’d taken of his earlier exploits with you nicely. Then he got his fingers back inside you, sweeping out as much of his semen as he could, then wiped down your folds with a damp cloth before placing a quick kiss there, he couldn’t resist giving your clit another hard suck, earning a delicious noise from you in reward.
Next he gathered up the towel from underneath you. He took a minute to admire the mess of fluids staining it, a mixture of his cum, your slick and your blood. He could get hard again just looking at it. He folded his prize carefully and placed it into the bag he’d brought along with the soiled washcloths.
Next he wrestled you into some pyjamas that had been lying on your bed, shorts first then the top. He couldn’t stop himself from playing with your tits one last time, licking and sucking your nipples before pulling the top down over them and hiding them from his view. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw them in person. He’d love to see them covered with his cum one day.
His best hope was that you’d wake tomorrow dazed and confused, having forgotten the events of the evening entirely and be too distracted by your inevitable hangover to notice pain where it shouldn’t be. Your inexperienced pussy had taken a beating tonight, but he slipped some more of those strong pain meds into the water by your bed that you’d hopefully drink in the night just in case. His body had been numb for days when he’d taken them for his bad back so they’d hopefully do the trick.
Zipping up his bag he moved over to your window, opening it fully, he quickly checked the coast was clear before tossing the bag the short distance over the fence that separated your house from his own. He quickly threw his shirt back on, leant down to give you another quick kiss and headed back down to the party.
