Relationship: August Walker x princess!female reader
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (non-con, bondage, manhandling, cum marking), mean August, size difference, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!
A/N: I love a bad boy so much and I’m not even a little bit sorry about it. If I’m going to hell, so be it.
August grinned as he walked through the horde’s camp, holding the head of his conquered foe high and roaring before tossing it to one of his clansmen and instructing them to boil it so he could add the skull to his collection. His blood was still up from the battle, and there was only one thing on his mind. He took a mug of grog from someone before throwing aside the flap to his tent and striding inside.
“Little princess!” August threw his head back and howled with laughter when you flailed against your bindings as soon as you saw him, taking a swig of grog before setting the tankard down and starting to remove his leathers. “Did you miss me, little one?”
“Fuck you!” You spat at him when he reached out to demeaningly pat your cheek.
“That’s rude language from such a pretty princess,” This time he slapped you, licking his tusks lasciviously when you gasped and shuddered. “I’m assuming this means you’re still rejecting my proposal.”
“Of course I’m rejecting it!” You thrashed even more, determined to get free from your bindings even though you had no luck in your attempts during the past few weeks of your captivity. “I’ll never be the mate of a filthy, murdering orc bastard!”
“Tsk, how disappointing,” the way you were writhing and squirming against your bindings was making him hard, as it always did, and it only got better when you screamed furiously as he began to undo his breeches. “It’s not as though you have many options, princess. I just killed another one of those suitors of yours who thought he could rescue you. His skull is going to look rather fine hanging around my neck with those of the other failures.”
That made your already fraught emotions sink even lower, but you were determined not to let him see you cry. There were now four different prince’s and their armies who had tried to take you back from the horde after they had pillaged your family’s kingdom. Every single one of them was dead, along with their armies, and you didn’t know how many more would make the attempt now that so many had been killed. A sense of dread started to settle over you at that thought, but you refused to be defeated. So you just continued to struggle against the ropes that bound you, glaring at him and ignoring the way your eyes stung with unshed tears.
“I fucking hate you,” you kept your eyes fixed on his face while he pulled out his massive cock and started to stroke it over your restrained body. “You’re disgusting and I’ll never be yours.”
“Your stubbornness only makes the fact that you’ll eventually break all the more delicious,” August snorted when you jerked away from him as he gave your head a condescending pat, slapping you instead as his fist kept moving over his cock. “You have no other choice, princess. I’m going to have you no matter what, it will go easier for you if you submit willingly.”
You just snarled at him, tired of telling him to fuck himself and deciding to just try to ignore him instead. It was difficult, though, especially when he gripped your face and forced you to watch as he stroked his cock over your squirming body. The worst thing was that you were getting wet as you kept struggling, and he could tell, a wicked grin spreading across his face when his precum started to drip on your already soiled gown.
August just grunted with annoyance when you pouted and closed your eyes, rolling his own before taking his hand off your face so he could yank at the ropes binding you until they were flung over one of the tent beams so you were suspended in midair.
“Stop, what are you doing?!” You shrieked when he shredded your gown so it fell off you in tatters and left you naked as you dangled in front of him. “You bastard! Put me down!”
“Always fucking complaining. You’re lucky I don’t decide to shut you up by skullfucking you, princess,” he chuckled when that made you finally fall silent as your eyes lit up with terror. “Don’t look so scared, like you don’t enjoy everything I do to you. Remember how messy you got when I broke you in?”
“Shut up… stop it!” You thrashed wildly when he shot his thick cum all over your stomach and thighs, screaming when he grabbed one of your legs and propped it on his shoulder so you were spread wide open for him. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
He ignored you, smearing his fingers through the thick mess he’d left all over before reaching between your legs so he could rub his seed all over your swollen pussy. His first smack caught you completely off guard, making you wail when his hand cracked against your quivering folds so hard you almost blacked out. But then he leaned down and kissed you and you were brought back to consciousness against your will, gagging at the taste of grog on his tongue while his hand started slapping your cunt over and over again.
His treatment was brutal, it always was, but still your body responded to him. You cried and choked on his tongue as his fingers struck your pussy at a brutal pace, hating that each time he smacked your sensitive flesh you gushed juices all over his hand and trembled from barely controlling your climax. You held out longer than you would have thought you’d be able to, but after twenty minutes there was nothing you could do. August grinned and spat into your mouth when you sobbed as you squirted everywhere, rubbing your raw and sore folds viciously while you spasmed through your climax. As soon as you were done he released his hold on the ropes and let you drop to the floor, laying on his bed of furs and picking up his tankard of grog again as he watched you whimper and squirm.
“When are you gonna admit how much you enjoy this shit, princess?” August nudged you with his foot to turn you over and chuckled when you whined. “If you can handle this you should be able to actually survive carrying my baby. Of course you will be much more comfortable if you’re not bound and restricted during your pregnancy. So why don’t you take the night to think about how much better your life will be if you actually accept a role as my mate instead of just a brood mare.”
You sobbed when he rose to his feet and pulled his breeches back on, leaving you alone in his tent to consider just how miserable you wanted your future to be.
Request: “yandere carlos oliveira resident evil 2 [sic] remake x neutral reader?” I hurt my hand/wrist, so here’s a WIP. Suggestive, haven’t gotten to the really NSFW yet. This part might get rewritten for the final draft if the rest diverges too much.
Imagine trying to pinpoint when Carlos became obsessed with you.
Carlos trailed you like Nemesis after Jill. You got the feeling he’d knock down walls if he could. It wasn’t stalking. Because you needed to be with him. For your own safety. That was something you both wordlessly agreed on. So you were always going to be together. Neither of you knew that yet, but Carlos was starting to warm up to the idea.
“Hey! Fuckface!”
Later that night, after your tryst, after Carlos retroactively decided it’d been love at first sight, you decided against joking that’d been directed at you. “Fuckface” could be an apt nickname. But you didn’t want him to start thinking your face was his personal fleshlight. Or pillow. Being used that way sent a jolt of pleasure down past your waist.
Only later would you come to regret being seen by Carlos. After hitting Nemesis with the rocket launcher, the mercenary’s eyes met yours. You were clearly not the target. You were just trying to help your… What was Jill to you? A roommate? Friend? God, he hoped she was just a friend. You pointed your chin at her, forced yourself to smile gratefully, and got to your feet.
How were you not even singed? Well, he could check your skin for burns later. Right now you wanted him to help her.
“Name’s Carlos and I’m saving you!”
He had an easygoing way about him, even in an emergency. Even when it became clear there was some siphoning darkness in his heart, Carlos was charm personified.
The two of you supported Jill until all three of you were underground. In the subway. It was hard to carry on a convo when everyone was trying not to stumble on the endless steps, Carlos carrying a rifle while you both helped Jill descend.
“We’ve been bringing survivors here.”
Jill finally caught her breath and stood unsupported. “‘Here’ where?”
“My guys have converted some subway cars into a shelter,” he answered, checking to make sure nothing came down the stairs. He nodded at you and Jill, but made to put his arm around her shoulder again.
“I’m fine.”
“Personal space. OK. I get it. Let’s go.” It came out jovial enough. Carlos didn’t want Jill to think he was hitting on her. Somehow he hadn’t been able to “accidentally” brush his hand against yours when assisting her, though. If she was a rival, maybe it would’ve been better to let that behemoth take her. Sure, Carlos’s cute new crush would be traumatized. But with Raccoon City burning and infested with the hungry dead, well, he’d love to be the shoulder you cried on.
“I don’t have an issue with personal space,” you joked. It just slipped out. The mood drastically needed lightening. A rocket launcher might not be enough to take down that thing hunting Jill. You wanted to make a joke about Nemesis’s feet being too big to take the steps; he’d have to roll down.
That phrase was all Carlos needed to hear. He tapped your forearm and you smiled for the second to last time that night.
“Let’s go.”
Before obeying, you spotted the vending machine. Carlos shouted at you to be careful while you gingerly moved your hand past the broken glass.
Out of reflex, you took his hand. Your vice-like grip. It didn’t bother him.
“Sorry, Carlos. I’m just… It’s just really scary out there. And I thought you might need to replenish your energy.”
You loosen your grip and he squeezes your hand reassuringly, thanking you.
Jill questioned Carlos on that monster. That’s what she called it. “That monster.” Personally, it made you think of a troll or some other humanoid from folklore. It probably didn’t calcify in the sunlight, though. Then you remembered the tentacles. How could you forget? They were scary as fuck. Why were they even there?
“...it’s no zombie, it knows what it wants and won’t stop till it gets it. Don’t you like that in a man?”
“Normally,” you responded to Carlos. You shared a smile behind his back. “That’s not Jill’s type, though.”
“He’s all yours,” she added, also directed at Carlos.
______ liked the persistent type. Great. And if he’d looked over his shoulder, he would have caught you shamelessly checking out his backside.
“Look, I promise you’re in good hands. I’m with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. U.B.C.S. for short.”
Uh oh, you thought, a split second before fantasizing that Umbrella Corps gave butt plugs with their logo to their top employees. Any chance of Jill being taken in by this smooth talker was nil.
“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?! You guys are the ones who caused all this!”
Carlos woah’d four times. “What are you talking about? You don’t have to trust me, but we’re going to the shelter.” He opened the door to the subway’s station. “You comin’?”
Replaying that exchange in your mind later, you realized that if Jill had been outwardly angrier, she would have been a dead woman. Despite her tone, Jill’s body language hadn’t changed as she descended that penultimate flight of stairs. S.T.A.R.S. agent or not, Carlos only saw her as useful in the sense you liked her. Platonically. How would he have excused his actions to his fellow U.B.C.S. soldiers?
Following him to the train car, you let Jill hang back a moment. Something felt off. Maybe it was the creepy posters. Normally you’d be all over a Skull Stalker double feature. Trying to keep your friend safe from a real stalker quelled that desire.
“Hey, Captain. ______ and this fine young lady could use our help.”
The peculiar introduction didn’t escape your notice. Mikhail, as he was about to introduce himself, nodded at you before admonishing his underling for not asking Jill her name. Turns out he knew of Officer Valentine. Carlos’s proximity also didn’t escape your notice. Despite the fact you were a civilian, neither he nor Mikhail expected you to join the others. You listened to the rest of the conversation on your feet. The other three were sitting down, or in Carlos’s case kneeling.
Probably practicing proposing, you mused, unaware how not far off the mark you were.
“...hey, it’s cool, we all want the same thing,” he said, dragging you out of your thoughts with a glance.
“Alright, supercop,” he addressed Jill. “Here you go. We can use this to stay in contact.”
“I know what a radio is.”
And so Jill returned to the surface. Concluding the prologue of your romance with Carlos Oliveira.
Little post about spanking: more of an idea/creative approach.
A feeling of skin shuddering against a warm calloused hand. Fingers drawing back across and leaving lines burning with desire and a building pressure. A hitched breath and a gasp echos out through the void.
“On your stomach” The pet would hear commanded, a edge held against their owners voice, not a word needed after as the feeling of knees against pets thighs. Grinding their thighs into the bed as the sound of a blade being drawn echos- it’s sheath cluttering as a cold flat steel slowly snakes across skin, guiding the blades path slowly. It’s blade crosses the thighs, cheeks, hips and lower back.
There are no cuts, there are no scratches yet as this blade caressed by an invisible and unseen hand allows the flat to flip on its edge mid stroke, one large scratch draws down the pets hip, and snakes back across their cheeks. Soon the pet would feel like a blockbuster DVD, scratched beyond all reason.
N The flat of the blade aims and strikes- loud claps could be heard as it’s cold steel strikes against relaxed flesh, leaving lines and reddened flesh- skin pulls tight and the pet reacts with instinct, a bucking of hips, biting of the lip and the cries for more. The owner gives some mercy and forewarns with ‘with multiples of 12, you’ll have this.’ with what would start with 6 spanks on each cheek would snowball and grow, 12 becomes 24 becomes 36 becomes 48 becomes 60 becomes 72 becomes 84. The pet is warm to the touch, sweat hangs from their skin and a shudder escapes from the touch alone. The owner feels proud, praises finally come from him, a satisfied smile as he leaves his pet wishing and clawing for more.
