THE ULTIMATE DADDY

WHAT DID I JUST READ? the bloody scene was so visceral that my brain stopped imagining his actions lost in blood and more blood. But I'm not afraid at all, this man is already called a monster, he has to become a beast to defend his girl! His eagerness to destroy the intruder's body and the fact that the man didn't say a word when he saw him, he already knew he was doomed.

I'm glad our girl fought so hard, went beyond what her body would allow to defend herself. She couldn't let herself be violated again just because someone wanted to hurt her initial abuser. And in the end she stands up to stop the carnage and asks for cleansing? just WHOA.

Love THAT! You are an artist!

Mission Control 19

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

EXTRA WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXTREME GORE AND VIOLENCE. DO NOT READ IF SENSITIVE TO THESE DESCRIPTIONS.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You kick with your good foot. The man deflects it easily. He chuckles. It’s like sand, gritty and dry. He hits your other foot so you shriek again and a surge of bile floods your throat. You swallow it back as you continue to thrash. 

The man crawls up your body as he wrestles with you. He grabs your wrists as you fight to resist him. He’s much too strong. As you bounce on the stiff mattress, a wash of futility overcomes you. It’s exactly like before, when it was another man on top of you. 

He chuckles as he brings your hands together and traps your arms in his grip. With his other hand, he reaches to his belt. He pulls free the snap on a sheath and slides free the long blade. You whine as you open and close your fingers desperately. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this. Please. I don’t know him. I’m not... not his. Please, just let me go,” you beg through your teeth. 

He’s only amused by your pleas. He twirls the knife in his hand and admires the groove in the silver. His dark eyes flick down to you and he smirks. 

“That man doesn’t know what suffering is,” he taunts. “You want to have some real fun...” 

He lowers the knife and traces across your collarbone. Your heart pounds and your breath clouds painfully in your chest. He hooks it under the left strap of your night gown and slices through. He does the same on the other side. 

He turns the knife the draws a slow line toward your throat. The skin splits around the metal and you cry out. He cackles and flicks it so it digs in a little deep. You kick the bed, huffing and howling with each throb of your injured foot. 

Adrenaline floods through you as you tug on your hands and write. This can’t happen. It can’t. You survived this far, you won’t go down without a fight. Even if it is a losing one. 

You manage to wrench a hand free. He slips and the knife cuts across your shoulder. You whine but ignore the gash. You twist and bite down on his sleeve. You pinch until you feel the firm muscle of his forearm. Tighter and tighter until you taste iron. 

The crack across your cheek has you reeling. You fall back against the bed and throw your hand out. You grab onto the blade of the knife, the metal searing your skin as blood seeps out around it. You squeeze and throw all your body weigh in the opposite direction. 

You dislodge the knife from his grip and it hits the bed. You don’t hesitate. You grab it with your other hand and swipe at him. It deflects off his body arm but leaves a tear in his sleeve. You swing again and let out a beastly snarl. You miss and he hits your hand so the blade flies from your grasp. 

You don’t care. You hit him. Over and over. Even if it doesn’t hurt. Even if it hurts you more. 

“Noooooo!” You shout, “no! Get off!!! Fuck off! Fuck you!!” 

You’re like an animal. All pain, all fear dissolves and there’s only one thing left. Survival.  

Your vision clears you see his grin. You hate him. You hurl your fist at him but before he can smack it away, he lurches backward. He flies off of you and hits the wall with a startling force. 

Another rasping breath blows through the room. Deep pants through nostrils as the soldier stands glaring at the intruder. His fists ball up as he steps closer to the dark-haired man. You dizzily sit up and watch as it all happens at a speed slower than reality. 

The other man raises himself on his knees but doesn’t make it further. The soldier, the captain, whoever, whatever he is, grabs him by the scruff and smashes his face into the walk. Bone mulches as the dark-haired man croaks and spits up crimson and ivory. 

The captain drags him by his neck as he searches the room. He finds the knife on the floor and throws the man onto his back. He plants his foot on his chest and looks at the blade. He turns his head to glance at you. His eyes are dilated and dull. 

He drops his chin to consider the man on the floor. He slips his foot off of him and falls to his knees. He straddles the man, knees on his arms to keep him from resisting, and he traces along the man’s hairline. The man roars and gnashes his teeth. 

The soldier continues the path around the man’s face until he’s sliced around cheekbone, jaw, and temples. He stabs the knife into the floor so it stands on its own. He runs his fingertips along the blood incision and you watch in horror as he peels the skin away from the bone. As he skins him with his hands alone, you cover your mouth and wretch. You can’t look away. 

You see every nasty detail. When the man has no face, his eyes are plucked out next with thumbs, crushed in fists, thrown down like gobs of chewed gum. Blood pours into his hair and down his neck. His breath is sickly and wet. 

Then the soldier strips him of his clothing. He shreds it with the knife but he destroys the man’s body with his hands. He breaks every finger, bending them back until they meet his hand. He twists his joints around until the crack and snap, he buries his nails into the skin until he can wrap his grip around his ribs and tear them out. 

The man’s blood stains the soldier. You see it slicken his black clothing, shining, stinking as the body of the intruder gurgles on the floor. The soldier doesn’t stop. Not even when he’s dead.  

You sit and watch him splitting sinew from bone, his eyes narrowed, almost hypnotised by the undoing of his enemy. You can’t take anymore. The smell of it, the sound, you can even taste it.  

You slide to the edge of the bed and stand. You whimper at the horrible pulsing in your foot. You hobble across the floor as the soldier is distracted in his work. You steel yourself and touch his shoulder. He winces as you lean on him but he doesn’t stop. 

His hands are red but with his blood as much as the man he murdered. He has cuts on his knuckles, a splintered bone juts out by his thumb. He doesn’t feel any of it. 

“You’re hurt,” you point and gulp back a wave of nausea. “Please, stop.” You bring your hand up to his chin and he finally stills. He lets you turn his head and he looks up at you. “If you don’t clean that, it will get worse.” 

He raises his hands and examines them. You tormented shoulder throbs and your foot radiates with heat. You gently touch his thick fingers.  

“Safe,” you say to him. “Like you said.” 

He stares at your hold on him then softly moves his hands to take yours instead. He stands as his pupils shrink. His eyes wander to your shoulder and the blood dripping down your chest. 

“We both need to clean up,” you look down. “Don’t we?” 

I feel so sorry for her 😭 I feel like she expected to discover more about him when he returned, that he would bring more firewood and warmth with him, but she was surprised by a monster more violent than she could have expected. Will he have the reasoning that this behavior will make her colder with him? Rejecting what he offers? Even animals recognize when their behavior does not please, my dog knows when he did something wrong and tries to "compensate" by making an abandoned face 🫠

Mission Control 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A storm falls like a harbinger of his return. Winds batter the siding and the windows rattle with the speckle of cold rain. The chill creeps through the walls as you ration the last few pieces of wood.  

As you quake before the fireplace, the door swings open and hits the frame, adding to the cacophony of nature’s rage. You hardly have a moment to react as his dark figure falls on you like a wraith. You flail your legs as the blanket catches on a lose tile before the crackling flames and he drags you across the floor. 

Your heels bounce futilely on the rug as the rain blows through the open door. The man once known as a hero, the man lost to the ice all those centuries ago, take you into the bedroom and flings you like a rag doll. Like a thing. 

You hit the food of the bed and land on the floor with a crash. You groan as your bones ache, not only with the impact but from the endless tension. As you writhe, he steps over you, smearing blood onto your night gown as he grabs the tinged fabric. 

He hauls you up so you stand on your toes. You smell the iron stained into his body armor. You look up at the mask that hides him. You try to imagine those blue eyes but you only see a monster. He is only the indomitable villain that plucked you out of your own life. 

He hurls you across the bed and you gasp as you land on your side. You roll onto your stomach and crawl up the mattress. He catches your ankle and tears you back as the frame dips with his weight. You rip the sheets into a wrinkle as you fight to escape him. 

This isn’t the man that left. This isn’t the docile stranger trapped in indecision. You sense in him a furor worse than that wailing outside the cabin.  

He flips you onto your back and grabs the front of the linen nightgown. He rents the fabric down the middle and exposes your body. You bat at his hands without effect as you wriggle. He pushes a knee between both of yours, splaying you wide. 

He grips your hips and hauls your closer. You squeak and reach up, clawing desperately for any escape. There’s nothing by the flat pillows and the top of the rumpled sheets. He pushes a hand up your body and stretches it around your neck. 

You still and whimper as you put your hand on his wrist. You flick the tears with your lashes and whine. Terror swells in your chest and floods through your veins like icy water. You can’t fight him. Not physically. 

“Please, don’t,” you beg as you touch his knuckles. “Please, you don’t have to--” You wheezes as his hand squeezes tighter. “You don’t have to do this. Please, please, I’m scared. I’m scared...” you croak between willowy heaves, “it hurts. Please don’t hurt me anymore.” You trail your hand up his arm, feeling the rough fabric, dirty dusting off beneath your graze, “Captain... Steve Rogers--” 

His hand nearly crushes your throat and cuts off your next plea. Your head pounds and your tears trickle out unchecked. No, no, that was wrong. You shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re just so scared. 

You close your eyes as your skull pulse and you choke for a breath, clasping onto his thick forearm as you try to ease his hold on you. His other hand pushes away the night gown so it splays around you. He shoves his hands between your legs, rough as he pokes at your folds. 

He wiggles his fingertips impatiently and rams into you without warning. You smack his bicep desperately as he jerks you with hard thrusts. You whimper and your eyes snap open as his hand slips just enough for you to gulp in a breath. 

He rips his hand away and shifts on his knees. He struggles to undo his fly, growing more impatient as the sheaths and weapons get in his way. You try not to look at him as you know what he means to do. 

All that hope, that sliver of hope that you had before, that he might be gentle, that he might be appeased, is gone. You latch onto his arm as you brace himself. You jostle on the mattress with his movement. He leans weight on your neck as he looms over you. 

He pushes his knees wider and pushes along your cunt once more. You can tell it’s him; not his fingers, but that other part of him. His blunt tip strains against you as your body tries to resist the intrusion. He grunts and bucks his hips. As he breaks through you gurgle and dig your nails into his sleeve. 

He snarls as he curls his hand around your hip and jerks again. He thrusts deeper and your eyes roll back as your body locks up in agony. He dips his hand around your neck and lifts you, bringing you into his lap as he tilts again. 

He bottoms out as he hooks his thick arm around you and cradles your head with his hand. You hang off him limply as you suck in air. Tendrils of pain entwine you and have you paralysed and prone. If you fight, it will only be worse. 

He rocks you in his lap. He growls and hangs his head down next to yours. He moves your head to the side and presses his cowl against your next. You babble and snivel each time he sinks into you.  

The storm has swept away the calm at last and you’re lost to the dark clouds.

I feel really awake. I don’t recall ever feeling this awake. You know? Everything looks different now. You feel like that? You feel like you got something to live for now?

GEENA DAVIS as Thelma Thelma & Louise (1991) | Dir. Ridley Scott

Noticed you’ve copied my beard.

your tags for that billy/dinah post fucked me up. The actors chemistry eas wasted in season 2. instead we got a weird relationship with billy and his therapist who he didnt have half as much chemistry with as Dinah. T.T

[I think that they wanted to pull through withFrank and Billy comradery betrayed or what not first and foremost and stick tothe comic material as much as they can to please the fanboys? *lol congrats uplayed yourself cos I bet that most of TP demographic is here for KASTLE and sowho are you preaching to studio?*considering this is their swan song and we’remost probablynot getting any more content, still they went so bonkers withJigsaw retelling they could have easily dropped the connection to comic source entirelyand gave us Billy and Dinah’s excellent cat and mouse game instead, SINCE THISIS STILL WHAT MADE SEASON 1 ultimately as far as either of these charactersgo].

This is what should have happened.

He doesn’t remember much. Bits and pieces, justlike cracks on his face, crooked pieces that don’t come together at all. Hisbody is a map of scars too. He touches the bullet holes markings and remembersthe whistle of bombs, groans of pain, blood, stink of death and sleaziness ofbody tortured and broken. Did I do that? Or was it done to me? There are othermarks too that come with a voice: hoarse, ugly voice of his carers “You’resuch a pretty boy, Billy.” He screams. Inside or outside he doesn’t know. He’sso detached with himself, floating or drowning or both. And there are scratchesand bite marks too he clings to as the only shelter in this book of the historyof violence of the history of taking William Russo into pieces, his bodyis.  He remembers where they come from, She’s strong and fierce. Even thoughher body is frail and small. He towers over her and yet she grips him tight,pushes him against the wall, wraps herself around him and devours him. And heknows himself. And he feels free. And he feels good and powerful and hers.  She’s violent but passionate, she’s fast andunreachable but tender and desperate. She rarely lets him stay but sometimesshe does. And in her bed, wrapped around her, he feels like he never didbefore, like his heroin addict mother denied him to.

He follows her home. Watches her intently.Devours her words like confessions of the only truth he’s interested in, whenshe berates him.  Words like whips, god,they feel like caress to him. More, he yearns.

“You’re an asshole,” (sounds like You’re mine) “Anarcissistic bastard,” (he can almost taste venom in her voice inside his mouthlike her tongue licking into him to make him melt) “You’re gonna rot in jail, I’llsee to that, Billy,” (when she uses his name it’s a roar of fury but the soundechoes in his head like her ecstasy back then when he made her come with hismouth and she named him again  and againlike a new man, like HERS).

“I don’t remember much. But I know you. God. Iknow you,” he’s in her flat with her aiming a gun at him.  A well practicedmove, not only because she’s a CIA agent.  It’s more like they’ve been dancing like thisfor a while now.  You put a gun to myhead, I lean forward with a barrel touching my forehead like we’re foreheadkissing as I pull closer, to your gravity, to you, defenseless, in more waysthan one.

“That’s convenient, asshole,” they are moving,her hand trembles slightly (has she been drinking? For how long? Did he leavehis scars on her too? on the inside of her) and he looks like he’s bowing for her, speaking close to herface, a strange dance of lovers who want to kill each other, who want to goback to each other.

“Don’t be like them. You know more. You sawmore.  You know me. You saw me, Dinah.Say my name, like you do,” he grabs for her hand holding a gun and puts itbehind her back to pull her closer.

“Fuck you,” a breath against his lips. Afamiliar caress.

“You did, didn’t you? But it was more thanthis. It was everything I have outside this mask now. And it is everything youhave outside your bottle of scotch, Dinah,” he pins her to the kitchen counternow, she let go of the gun as it lands on its surface. She’s taunt anddefensive, like when he met her, he thinks. Thick walls surround her. But he’sbeen inside this fortress already.

“Sweet fucking words, that’s all you do, Billy.You talk, you lie, you use people. But no more. You’re on Frank’s list. You’regonna wish you ended up in prison.”

“And you’re just gonna let him take me, Dinah?You’re just gonna let him have your revenge?” he smirks, like he knows what she’sdreaming of, like he shared these dreams with her, like these weren’t dreams atall. Was he in her house, watching her and she just aimed a gun at him, neverpulling the trigger, because she needs the chase, she needs the thrill, sheneeds him, like this? Taunting her, challenging her, knowing her. He looks likeBilly back then. Like HER Billy. The walls break and she grabs his shirt, turnsthem around (she’s as strong as he remembers in his dreams) and pushes himagainst the surface now.

“You don’t know anything about me!” her growlswash over his skin like a purr.

“I know how you sound like, that wrecked sighyou do when you come. I know how you struggle to prove yourself worthy to yourdaddy every other superior you work for wears a face of. I know how you shutdown and break in silence when you were brave enough to give someone a chancebut he was taken away from you, right under your nose and you think you’regonna choke on this guilt,” he says it all to her ear, voice brimming with triumph,  and she burns inside, with shame, withlonging, with fury. He knows her. He remembers everything about her. And he hasher like this, vulnerable and HIS. She shrieks and throws a punch at his face,at his chest. Then a kick and more throws as he laughs at every hit that makescontact, like he’s drunk on her holy anger. She knocks him down (he lets hertoo) and she’s onto him with her claws, with her fists, with him lying on thefloor, giving in to her completely.  Likehe wants her to leave new marks on the ugly ones he has now on his face. Likehe wants her to rewrite those into marks that will matter. He will wear likebadges of honour. Like he belongs. Like it says: I am hers.

“Just like before. This I remember, Dinah.  I dream about it all the time. What do youdream of?” he says with mouth full of blood and she growls one more time andkisses it. Kisses him, tears his clothes, and then tries to tear his skin too(her claws leaving marks he arches to). This abandon between them is all redand black and madness, and somehow she only feels lucid then and somehow heonly feels like himself then. She growlshis name like before (naming him) and he gives in to her completely, likeletting her rewrite his blank pages.

After everything he’s a mess of half tornclothes, she didn’t even take off her pants (that’s how desperate she was, god,she feels like she’s burning again), he puts his arms around her (like a boyclinging to his mother?) and she lets him, pretending it’s a dream (even thoughit’s still admitting some of them end like this too).

“Sometimes you let me stay. I remember. No suchluck today, huh?” he chuckles to her hair, like they are lovers, like they arefamiliar, like they’ve been doing this for a long time. They have, haven’tthey?

“Frank’s coming after you, Billy,” is it awarning, to threaten him or to save him?

“More importantly, will you?” he makes her lookat him, like demanding a promise, like waiting for a confession.

“Just leave,” she untangles herself from hishold (from his hug?) and doesn’t look at him again. She’s going to see him inher dreams. She’s going to see him in her flat, again, too. And this thing betweenthem will never end, because it’s all the air in her lungs and all the memoryleft in him.

(And GOD!! What if Dinah does come after him ina way that she prevents Frank from finding him out before she does while Billyis handling all his tormentors from the past and being this rogue vigilante sortof a thing and what if it’s Dinah’s bullet that gets Billy in the end, after anentire push and pull game like this they had and she rushes to him as he bleedsout and smirks or smiles at her: “You did become an excellent shot, agentMadani. Castle’s gonna be proud of you. Don’t let him wear your father’s face,though,” she wants to kill him again but she also wants to yell for anambulance as he fucking bleeds out on her lap with that peaceful face like he’sfinally content? “I’m glad it was you. It feels like confession from you. Noone got that close,” he’s talking about himself and he’s talking about her andhe’s talking about them and her hands are covered in his blood and it doesn’tget more intimate than that. “Thanks for the memories, Dinah,” he rasps beforegoing still. Thanks for helping me remember what mattered.)

2x2 | 2x3

i don't think i've ever hated a dark character as much as i hate lloyd and nick, i really get sick of his hallucination that he really loves her, at least besides being disgraced lloyd is sincere. wanted her to tell him about the videos, dumping the shit on him again. afraid they won't get her back, but I know that ari could never be without her again after getting her.

Guns, Lies & Fairy Tales X

Relationship: Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Nick Fowler; Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Your world is ripped apart when a stranger with a vendetta finds you and your children.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Words: 3.6k

Series Warnings: Non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, childbirth, lactation kink, physical, emotional, and psychological abuse, isolation, violence, torture, murder, smut, allusion to forced pregnancy, angst, trauma, and other warnings to be added.

This is a DARK fic and you are responsible for your own media consumption.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY, NSFW

Ari paced the room angrily with his hands on his hips, still in disbelief over your decision to turn yourself over to Nick and Lloyd. 

“You don’t need to do this!” He pleaded with you from across the room, “Y/N, please! I can’t fucking lose you again.”

“It’s the only way and you know it.” You tried to reason with him, “If I don’t go then I’ll have to wait for Gustafsson and her agents to track Nick and Lloyd down. And clearly they aren’t worth shit when it comes to that.”

You looked at him as his eyes pleaded with you and you walked over to the other side of the room to pull him into a hug. He grabbed onto you tightly and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You felt his tears as they began to drip onto your hair.  

“I am scared, Ari.” You admitted softly and pulled away. You held him gently by his face as you gazed into his teary eyes, “I’m scared to go back to those monsters and have my children around them again. But I’ll be less afraid knowing you’re here making sure we get back safe.”

You put your forehead against his, “It’s going to be okay.”

You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more. You were more than just afraid, you were terrified of facing Lloyd and Nick again and of what they would do to you before you were extracted. 

~~~

“We have a big day tomorrow, Bug.” You smiled at her as you tucked her into her crib, “We’re going to see daddies and Nikki.”

She perked up and beamed at you excitedly, “Daddies and Nikki?!”

Your stomach churned as you put on a happy face for her, “Mhm, so you need to be a good girl and go to sleep, okay? You don’t wanna be tired when you see them right?”

She pouted and let out a dramatic sigh, “Okay, mommy. I go to sleep then.”

You gave her a kiss on the forehead and then re-tucked her in. You checked on LJ before turning off the lights and leaving. Your heart was heavy as you walked to your bedroom where Ari was waiting for you. He was fiddling with his computer in bed while you went to brush your teeth. 

You climbed into bed with him when you were done and noticed that he had a video pulled up.There was a slight panic, thinking it could be another one of those awful videos he forced you to watch earlier.

He pulled you in closer, “This is our wedding video.” He clicked play and turned to you, “I wanted to watch it with you before you left tomorrow.”

You curled against him and smiled as you watched the two of you standing across from each other during the ceremony. You both looked so happy and you remembered your face hurting from how much you were grinning. You remembered that you had to wipe Ari’s tears away after he’d finally seen you in your dress. You remembered the joy you felt when you finally kissed at the end of the ceremony. 

You felt tears sting your eyes as you watched the speeches at the reception and your first dance with him. You knew that you would be taken by Lloyd and Nick shortly after what had been the happiest moments of your life. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that you were reliving these moments right before you’d be in their clutches again. You had faith that Ari and the team would get to you in time, but there was still a seed of doubt. 

“I love you.” You said softly as you looked up at him, “I want you to know that. Just in case -”

“We will bring you back.” He cut you off before you could even say the words, “I love you more than anything in this world.”

He put the laptop away and turned off the bedside lamp before laying down and holding you tightly against him. Ari wrapped his arm and leg around you as if he were afraid you would be taken from him in the night. You felt safe with him and managed to fall asleep quickly despite having been on edge about tomorrow. 

~~~

Your alarm went off early in the morning and it was time for you to get ready. You pried yourself from Ari’s tight grasp as you got out of bed. You had the agents bring you a spring dress in Lloyd’s favorite color - red - so that you could hopefully appease him when he saw you. You were most afraid of him because of how cruel he had already been to you compared to Nick. 

Ari woke up when you were almost finished and grabbed you to kiss you, “Dropping you and the kids off today is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

You paused and took a deep breath before responding. You knew what you were about to say would upset him, “You’re not going. We’re saying our goodbyes before I leave.”

He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief, “Y/N - No, I can’t -”

“Yes, Ari. You can. It’ll be too hard for the both of us if you go.”

“Baby, listen -”

“No.” You shook your head and it took everything in you to hold it together, “There’s no way you’re going to be able to leave me there and drive away, is there?”

Ari clenched his fists at his side and just stared at you until he looked down away from you. You were right, he couldn’t. 

He walked over and grabbed your hands to kiss them. You tucked his long hair behind his ears before giving him a passionate goodbye kiss. 

“I need to get the kids ready and then prep with the agents. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Maya was already awake and practically trying to escape from her crib when you got to their room. She was bouncing up and down excited. 

“See daddies today!” She squealed and giggled, “And Nikki!”

“That’s right. Bug!” You picked her up and hugged her, “Let’s get you and LJ ready.”

The children needed to be perfect. Your ‘husbands’ would expect it, especially Lloyd, and you were already in enough trouble as it is. The last thing you wanted to do was pile onto the reasons they already had to punish you. 

Once the kids were fed and ready it was time to be prepped again on the plan. A tracking device was to be hidden inside of the kids’ diaper bag so that they would be able to know where Nick and Lloyd were hiding. Once that was established they would surveil the location to know the security situation and then make a plan on how to move in. The plan was to extract you and the kids, along with capturing Nick and Lloyd. 

“We’ll try to get you out as quickly as we can.” Gustafsson tried to assure, “Are you sure you want to do this? You're putting yourself in a lot of danger.”

You looked back at her, knowing she didn’t care about how much danger you were in. You could see the determination and eagerness in her eyes, “Yes. I just want my daughter back.”

She nodded in acknowledgement before turning to the agents, “Alright, let’s go.”

The kids were loaded into the car as you and Ari embraced each other one last time. You put your hands on his face and kissed him softly. Your foreheads touched as you stood there together for what felt like an eternity. 

You squeezed his hand as you pulled away, “I’ll be okay.”

You left him there as you walked to the car and didn’t look back. You would have broken down and you needed to be strong right now. Strong for yourself, your kids, and to not look weak in front of Gustafsson. You held your head high as you walked to face your fate. 

~~~

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round. The wheels on the bus go round..”

Maya listened to her tablet and LJ wiggled in his seat to the song as you stared out of the window. Mark and Mateo drove you to the drop off point and humored the children to keep them occupied. The only thing you could think about were the memories of your life with Nick and Lloyd…

…You screamed and strained as you tried to push at the midwife's instructions. You had been in labor for hours at the house, Nick and Lloyd refusing to take you to the hospital to avoid being caught. All of your prenatal care was done in your home. 

“PUSH!”

Nick sat behind you and you leaned against his chest as he held your hand, “You can do it, Princess. You’re almost done, baby.”

You were exhausted both mentally and physically, almost ready to give up, “I’m tired.” You whimpered back at him. 

“Just one more, Y/N.” The midwife called up to you, “One big push.”

Lloyd gripped your other hand tightly, almost enough to break it, “Push.”

It wasn’t encouragement like Nick. It was an order and you followed it. You bared down and pushed as hard as you could with a loud yell until you were finally done and collapsed against Nick. You panted as you tried to catch your breath while the midwife cut the umbilical cord and passed you Nikki. 

“Hi, baby.” You greeted her with a tear filled smile as you held her. 

 “She’s perfect, just like you, Y/N.” Nick stroked her little head and kissed you on the cheek, “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” Lloyd praised you as he stroked your hair, “You did so well today. I’m proud of you.”

You remembered how much his praise made your heart swell even more and bile rose in your throat. How happy you were to appease your abusers somehow made you disgusted with yourself.

…Nikki squealed as she opened up her presents under the giant Christmas tree. Nick and Lloyd had spared no expense for her and Maya. 

“Mommy! Look! This is exactly the one I wanted.” She beamed as she held up her toy, “Thank you, daddies!” 

“Anything for you, Pumpkin.” Lloyd smiled at her, “Come on, now open up the big one.”

You helped Maya open up her presents since she was still too young to do it on her own. 

Her eyes went wide at every gift. You giggled as you watched how excited she was. 

Nick approached and sat down next to you, “I can help her, Princess, while you unwrap yours.”

You smiled back at him excitedly and chirped, “Okay! It looks like I have a lot this year.” 

You opened them up eagerly despite knowing what was going to be inside. It was the same every year for your birthday and Christmas. Boxes upon boxes of expensive jewelry, perfumes, designer clothing, lingerie, and shoes. Lloyd walked over with a velvet box and a smirk. 

Your face lit up when you saw the brand new leather collar in your favorite color. “Sunshine” was engraved on the gold metal tag. Your previous one was basic black and Lloyd told you that you would get a new one once you had earned it. You’d wear it when you spent your nights with him and remove it in the morning. Nick hated it and Lloyd agreed to keep it behind closed doors to avoid pissing him off. 

He bent down and whispered in your ear, “You’re gonna wear that when you thank me for your gifts tonight, sweetheart.”

The car came to a stop and your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were finally going to face your abusers again after months of freedom. Your hands shook as you undid your seatbelt and helped the children out of their carseats. Mateo and Mark took out the stroller and helped put the kids in it while you steadied your nerves. 

You gave Mateo a long hug, “Thank you for everything.”

“You make it sound like we’re not going to see each other again, Y/N. We will.” He told you before he leaned down to say goodbye to Maya. 

“Bye-bye, Mateo!” 

“You’re brave and tough, Y/N. Just like I remember.” Mark put his hands on your shoulders, “You can handle this. I know you can.”

He gave you a warm hug before pulling out your wedding rings from his pocket, “I know you don’t want to wear these again, but you need to.”

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh before you took them and put them on. They felt like heavy shackles, but you knew things would go better for you if you did wear them. Mark gave you another hug before heading back to the car. The men drove off and you were left on the side of the road with your children. 

Maya looked around curiously and then up at you, “Where’s daddies?”

“They’re coming soon, Bug.”

After what seemed like ten minutes you saw two large black SUVs approach. They stopped in front of you and the kids. Lloyd and Frances, the old nanny, stepped out of the car. Lloyd had a shit eating grin the moment he saw you and the kids. You tried to keep your body from shaking as he approached. The kids however squealed and held their arms out when he saw him. 

He bent down and picked up Maya from the stroller first, “Hi Bug! How’s my big girl?”

“I missed you, daddy!!!” 

“I know, Maya.” He cooed, “Don’t worry. Daddy will never be away from you this long again.”

“Promise?”

Lloyd glared at you as he held her, “I promise, Bug. Never again.”

Frances approached to take her from Lloyd, “Let’s go to the car so you can see your other daddy and Nikki.”

“Okay, Frances!”

“And how’s my handsome boy, huh?” Lloyd smiled as he picked up LJ next, “Look at you! You got so big while you were away. You’re almost one now.”

LJ looked up at him with a drool filled smile and babbled. Lloyd hugged him and kissed his forehead before giving him to Frances after she had gotten Maya settled in the car. She walked away leaving you and Lloyd alone then shortly after the car with the children pulled away. 

You panicked and started to make a move towards the car but Lloyd stopped you. His demeanor changed and he glowered at you before ripping the diaper bag away. 

“The kids need -”

“Shut the fuck up.” He sneered at you as he threw the contents onto the ground. He ripped through the lining of the bag until he found the tracking device. He held it up in your face and cocked his head to the side, “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Sunshine?”

He threw it onto the ground and stomped on it with his foot. Your blood ran cold as you watched the only way for Ari and the team to find you be destroyed. Lloyd grabbed you tightly by the chin and looked you in the eyes. 

“Strip.” He ordered as he stared at you coldly, “I want to make sure you aren’t wearing a wire either.”

“Lloyd, I’m not -”

He snapped his finger for you to be quiet, “Right now, you better fucking call me, sir. I know you know better than to talk back to me.”

Your lip trembled and you began to take off your dress. You held it out to him and he dropped it on the ground.

“All of it.”

You turned to see the driver and another man sitting in the car. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you removed your bra, panties, and shoes. Lloyd made a motion for you to turn around. You tried to cover yourself and he whacked your arms away. 

“Lloyd, please.”

“What the fuck did I just tell you?”

You looked down at the ground too ashamed to look up at him, “To call you sir.”

“Good. I hope your dumb little brain can at least remember that.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out your leather collar and whimpered as he roughly put it on you. 

“Now get in the fucking car.” 

You did as you were told and noticed the partition between you and the front seats was up. YOu didn’t know if you should be thankful for the privacy or afraid of it. There was another dress for you draped across the seat. You reached for it and Lloyd slapped your bare thigh. 

“Did I tell you that you could get dressed?”

“No, sir.” You replied meekly, “You didn’t tell me I could get dressed.”

He studied you for a long while before he pounced on you. Lloyd grabbed you by your neck and pinned you to the seat. 

“Ballsy of you to think that you could say that shit about us to the kids and that you’d get away with it.” He sneered mere inches from your face and you grabbed at his wrist as he tightened his grip, “You were kissing Ari in front of them too like some slut. Do you have any idea how confused they’re going to be now?”

“I saw the videos.” You croaked out, “The wedding night.”

Lloyd roughly let you go and you coughed as you tried to catch your breath. 

“None of that matters anymore.” He retorted coldly, “We gave you a good life. You lived in luxury. You have three beautiful children and you wouldn’t if it weren’t for me and Nick.”

You hadn’t even been with him for twenty minutes and he’d already humiliated you. You started to wonder how long you could take being in Lloyd’s clutches again, but you wiped that out of your head. You were doing this to get Nikki back and to finally get rid of Nick and Lloyd.

“Now, when we get back, you’re going to behave. You’re going to be the same dumb little dutiful wife like you were before. You’re going to tell Nick that you were confused because Ari fucked with your head. You are going to tell him that you love him. And you sure as shit aren’t going to mention the videos. Do you understand, Sunshine?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. It would hurt him to know that wasn’t actually the case. He loves you too much. And you know what? You’re gonna tell me you love me too, because it makes my dick hard when you do.”

“Did you ever love me?” It was a question that plagued you once your memories started coming back and you realized what Nick and Lloyd had done to you.  

“No.” He smirked and he stroked your cheek, “But I care about you in my own way, because you’re mine and I’ll kill anyone who ever tries to take you from me.”

You knew he didn’t love you, but hearing the words out loud still stung. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes and Lloyd tutted you. 

“Aww, Sunshine, baby.” He cooed as he pressed you back down onto the seat and spread your legs. 

You instinctively tried to close them but he pried them open and shoved his hand between them. Lloyd’s thumb began to rub your bundle of nerves and your breath hitched. He lowered himself on top of you as he continued to work his fingers. 

“Don’t be upset, Sunshine.” He murmured as he kissed the side of your face, “I still missed you.”

Your humiliation grew when you felt the slick begin to run down your thighs. Your body still reacted to him after it had been trained for so many years. You gasped as Lloyd slid two of his fingers inside of you and began to work your spongy spot. You turned your head away from him as tears rolled down your face. 

You felt his mustache against your ear as he nibbled on it, “I still feel good, don’t I? Hm?”

Your hips slowly started to rock as you felt pleasure bloom in your core and begin to flood through the rest of your body. You bit your lip to try and hold in your moans but Lloyd kissed you to open your mouth. 

“I missed you.” He purred when he pulled away, “I missed seeing you underneath me. I missed the way your pussy feels when it grips my cock.” He sped up his fingers to work the spot within you even more. Your legs trembled with each movement. 

“I missed your beautiful face and that stupid fucking laugh of yours.” He groaned as he ground his clothed erection against your thigh, “And I know by the way your pussy sounds right now, you missed me too.”

Your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes rolled and your orgasmm shot through you like lightning. He kept going, working you through it and bringing about another. Your body shivered as you came down from your high and he finally slid his fingers out of you. Lloyd smiled as he licked off your juices and leered at you. 

He moved his hands up your stomach gently and cupped your breasts, “You know what I also missed, sweetheart?”

He squeezed them and licked his lips as your milk dripped down his hands. He bent down and darted his tongue across your nipple and groaned. 

“This is my favorite part about knocking you up.” He murmured before licking a stripe between your breasts. He let out a low growl before he squeezed them again. 

“We have more than an hour until we’re back at the safe house. Lots of time to have some fun, Sunshine.”

You choked out a sob but he shushed you, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you - yet. Nick and I are gonna do that together to welcome you back home.”

Chapter 11/End 

Taglist: @eralen, @rededfoxy, @thanatosfic, @rebekahdawkins, @daniphantom1​ @lostyx​ buckysteveloki-me @devin04 @alexakeyloveloki @littleone2223 @seitmai whatinthestyles @Olliparty @winchestersister55 @lexivass

I'm so happy i got an update on this series, it's in my top 3 favorites of all time. Rafe continues with his monstrous and domineering nature, i can't help but wonder how he sees this "love" for her in his head, he knows he's doing it wrong and yet he continues to go deeper, if possible, just to have her. Will he ever really try to make things better for her? Let her travel? loosen the bonds he created? I wonder if he doesn't want a girl because he thinks that if boys idolize their mother, the girl will idolize him, but "a little princess for my princess" changed my mind. Anyways, WTPO!Rafe never disappoints.

Pity Party

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON (+ mentions of), toxic/abusive relationship, mentions of manipulation, dad!Rafe, established Rafe x reader

➥ While this can absolutely be read as a stand alone piece, it is also the much requested follow up to my WTPO series. I hope this doesn't disappoint!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

⭑

You slid along the floor using your knees, hand occupied by an even tinier one as your son unsteadily put one foot in front of the other. Your lips were pulled into a smile as you watched him, your free hand hovering behind his back for when he very likely would fall. Your other son was occupied with a snack, and when—as expected—the youngest one’s legs gave out, you scooped him up with a giggle.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “You’re going to be sprinting by this weekend.”

His cherubic face smiled back at you, lips wet with drool, and you wiped his mouth with a smile. Your oldest—now done with his Goldfish—was currently tugging on your dress, and when you looked down at him, he had a wide grin on his face.

“I wanna play with him…”

His soft voice had your own expression softening, and you quietly told him ‘okay’, taking a seat right on the floor where you were formerly standing. You emptied your hands, letting your son crawl around and slap at the ground as his brother followed him, face so close to his as he whispered things to him that he didn’t quite understand yet. You let your mind wander, warmth blooming in your chest as you thought about how…sweet they were.

There had been a time where you feared they wouldn’t be.

…and as you stared at them, you almost felt bad for ever thinking they could be anything less than angels, but it couldn’t be helped. They were children, and there were very few things in this world that were more innocent than children. They both came out squirming and pudgy and perfect—screaming their heads off and only calming once they were in your arms. They came into this world looking at you with the kind of eyes that had never experienced or done a single bad thing in their life.

They were children…babies…

…but they were Rafe’s babies.

And as much as you would like to, you would never be able to forget how they both came to be here. Fighting off Rafe Cameron was hard enough when you were going through a tumultuous breakup, but it became damn near impossible once he managed to get a ring on your finger and a prison around you in the form of a fancy house. You looked down at the large rock, a pang going through your chest at the sight of a simple gold band below it.

The wedding had been the grand fanfare it was expected to be, serving it’s purpose of making you the envy of every woman in Kildare County. Your oldest son—having been an only child at the time—was pulled down the aisle in a wagon with a pillow in his lap that contained the rings. Rose had gushed over you in the dressing room, long having convinced herself no woman would ever marry Rafe and she’d never get to experience this. Your father had cried as he handed you off to your husband to be, and tears had kissed your own eyes but just for an entirely different reason.

Your dress was made for a princess, and your veil was made for an angel, and your makeup was made for a doll. Everything was perfect, everything going off without a hitch. Absolutely nothing—not a single thing—had gone wrong, and even though by that point you’d slowly started to accept your fate…something in you had hoped. For what? You weren’t entirely sure.

You’d hoped that some crazy ex girlfriend of Rafe’s would stand up and object. You’d hoped that your brother would go against your wishes and drag you away from it all. Hell, you’d even hoped that someone would choke on their spit and require an ambulance. Deep down though, you’d known what you really hoped for.

You had hoped that Rafe would do the right thing…and let you go.

It was a silly hope. Rafe Cameron had gone through entirely too much trouble to ensure you’d never leave him, even going as far as threatening to take your son away from you. He—both of them—was the only good thing to come out of this. From the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’d wanted him all for yourself and far away from Rafe. The brunette simply didn’t deserve him, and you had no doubt that Rafe would agree, but his selfishness outweighed any thought of doing what was right. That had always been the case.

You didn’t know why you thought your wedding day might be any different.

Rafe moments away from chaining you to him forever? There was no shot in hell of him walking away from that, and you sighed at how naively hopeful you’d been that day. The sound of your oldest son’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked over just in time to see him jump to his feet, promptly sprinting towards the foyer. You weren’t worried, knowing exactly who it was that could elicit such a reaction from him.

You swallowed at the sound of Rafe’s voice, taking your 11-month old into your arms.

“...and how were my boys?”

He came into view as he said that, the messy haired little boy upside down in his arms as he kicked his feet and laughed.

You knew the question wasn’t meant for you.

“I was bad,” your son told him, and you fought back a smile, knowing why he said that.

Rafe’s gaze met yours, and the smile that threatened to ghost over your lips was gone. He merely smirked at the sight, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.

“Bad? Oh no,” he chuckled. “Why were you bad?”

“I accidentally spilled juice on mommy’s dress.”

Your son’s words came out small, slurring together a bit with his slight lisp. You’d told him that it was fine—accidents happen—but you knew why he was so hung up on it. As awful as Rafe treated you behind closed doors, he treated you a million times better for the whole world to see. He was smart that way, and the whole world included your children. They saw their dad treat mommy like a princess—none the wiser to what the true nature of your relationship was really like—and so they followed suit.

An offense against you—no matter how small—was especially heinous.

“Oh that is bad,” Rafe murmured, setting him down on his feet. “Guess we’ll have to buy her a new one, huh?”

He ruffled his hair, and your son beamed at the thought of going shopping.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as he neared you, an impressive feat when he came to kneel down before you. Your youngest was squirming in your arms—babbling—and you swallowed when Rafe reached out to lightly squish his cheeks. He pressed his lips to his tiny forehead just as his hand landed on your own cheek, and only then did you look at him.

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable. Your oldest was going on about something behind him that neither of you were giving too much attention to. His blue eyes looked between yours, studying you, and you could smell his cologne. After what felt like too long, his pink lips finally curved into that haughty half smile you were used to seeing.

It never not made you want to smack it right off of his face.

“...and how was mommy today?” he quietly asked.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say to him.

You wanted to say that mommy cried in the bathroom because she still had thoughts of leaving sometimes even at the loss of her own children, but then she’d remember how much she loved them and couldn’t live without them and the guilt would set in. You wanted to tell him that mommy’s thigh still hurt from where he’d sank his teeth into it the night before for daring to tell him she still hated him sometimes. You even started to tell him that mommy had rare moments here and there where she’d momentarily forget their history and find herself content in this big house with her children and fancy ring until she remembered how her children got here and what said house and ring represented.

You didn’t say any of that though.

Instead, you merely blinked at Rafe, and told him what you always did.

“Mommy was fine.”

The vase narrowly missed Rafe’s head, his quick reflexes making your heart sink with disappointment. Your own quick thinking had you frantically looking around for something else to throw at him, but his feet moved faster than your brain, and he was nearing you before you made up your mind. Unable to stomach being around him, right now, you hurriedly sprinted to the other side of the room. You paid no mind to the way he called your name, a blend of anger and exasperation there.

“Are you done…?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your angry gaze on the floor. Besides, you didn’t have to in order to know what he looked like. You could imagine it perfectly—steely blue eyes cold and intently focused on you, hands on his hips and jaw clenched so hard you’d swear it was about to break. When you finally did glance at him, you were proven right.

“This little…” he waved his hand about. “...tantrum. You’re finished?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

You couldn’t hold in your tears, and they spilled over without your permission. Rafe sucked his teeth at the sight, and when he took a step towards you, you made to leave the living room completely. Your sons were with your mom—they would be the whole weekend—because that was the plan. They would stay with grandma for a few days while you went to Charlotte to visit Pope at school. Rafe was supposed to be handling business with Ward, anyway.

He was not supposed to be sabotaging your plans and canceling car rentals and flights and ruining your entire weekend.

Rafe stopped you before you could get far, and you didn’t even attempt to get away, too defeated and upset to smack him square across the face like you wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, and you wondered if a light bruise would be there in the morning. You could tell by the way he held you that he was upset, but you didn’t understand what he had to be upset about. It had been four years since Rafe started this fucked up dynamic he called a family and over two since you’d reluctantly said ‘I do’. You even gave him another son…and yet…

It was clear now that he still didn’t trust you.

Sure, you had the stray thought or two here and there about escaping, but when it was all said and done, those were just thoughts. Your children meant too much to you to just take off, and even if you ever got to that point one day where you’d happily sacrifice their chance to grow up with a mother just to have your own freedom, Rafe would never let that happen. Your fate was sealed from the very moment he’d decided you were it for him.

“I haven’t seen my brother in months. It’s his last year of school, and I didn’t want the next time I see him to be at his Goddamn graduation,” you spat, lips trembling. “You said you were okay with it!”

“Yeah, I was,” Rafe replied in a tone that hinted at more to come.

You were right.

“...but then I remembered that this would be the first time we’d be apart for a distance more than thirty miles and how way up there in Charlotte you could disappear to wherever you wanted and-.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if we had a normal relationship,” you cut him off, a sneer on your lips. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of me running away from you if you’d never hurt me and raped me and damn near threatened me into marrying you.”

At those words, Rafe let you go as if you burned him, and you reminded yourself how much Rafe hated to be reminded of why you were really here. You were positive he sometimes convinced himself that this relationship was as real as it could be—the perfect parents with the perfect children and the perfect marriage. After all, it was what everyone on the outside saw when they were looking in.

The difference between the two of you it seemed was that you knew it was all pretend.

Rafe liked to believe that it wasn’t.

“All of that aside…do you really think I’d leave them?”

Your question came out whispered, and you didn’t miss the slight twitch in Rafe’s face. Leave them…not leave him. Rafe was smart in knowing that knocking you up would be the only thing to truly prevent you from leaving, and yet he absolutely hated to be reminded of it. To be reminded that it was not—and never would be—him keeping you here.

His expression morphed, a shadow passing over his features as he glanced away, shoving a hand into his pocket.

“I can’t take that chance,” was all he said, making more tears spill over. “Pope’s not going anywhere. You can always see him another time.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth in anger, and when he reached for you, he was stopped by a harsh slap to the cheek. Your lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and you just stared at him as he rubbed his face.

“You have taken so much from me, Rafe,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “If your goal is to make sure we’re both absolutely miserable…then keep it up.”

You turned away from him, refusing to spare him another look as you made your way upstairs to unpack your suitcase.

Most days in your marriage were okay. They weren’t awful, and they weren't’ exactly anything you’d jump at the chance to relive. They were simply just…okay. On those days, Rafe would wake you up with a kiss, sometimes more than that, and you’d start your day—usually something that consisted of preparing for your children to wake up. They made those days stand a chance at being somewhat enjoyable, and you thought to yourself that maybe one day when they were old enough, you’d tell them how much they did for you without even knowing.

On the days where your marriage wasn’t okay, you were usually overcome with how you really felt about Rafe. Those days didn’t come as often as they used to—a fact you didn’t like to let your mind linger on—but when they did, they usually ended in your tears.

…and Rafe pinning you down and just taking what he wanted.

Rafe had felt entitled to your body long before he put the ring on your finger, but after you took his last name, his entitlement went to an entirely new level. You recalled a day where you had the house to yourselves and how silly you’d been to think Rafe would respect your wish to be alone.

“Do you know what this means?” he’d harshly asked, squeezing your left hand as he held it up for both of you to see.

The 4-carat marquise solitaire glinted under the bright kitchen light.

“It means you’re my wife, it means you’re mine,” he’d hissed, getting in real close and touching your nose with his. “Do you get how patient I’ve been? How patient I am?”

You’d shrank away from him, wincing at the slight pain in your left hand.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but it’s been years,” he’d told you. “There’s a ring on your finger and two little boys walking around with my face. You need to suck it up!”

The counter had been harsh against your stomach as he bent you over it.

The good days in your marriage were even more rare, and even those ended in you feeling sad for yourself. It was usually a whole day of your boys keeping a smile on your face, the feeling so infectious that even Rafe couldn’t make it go away. And that’s how you’d find yourself smiling at him and playing with your children together and actually acting like a family. Only…on those rare days…it wasn’t acting. For just several hours, everything that Rafe was and everything he’d done would be so far from your mind.

You’d find yourself bathing your youngest together—your oldest only listening to you when it was time to wash behind his ears—cooing over the baby that was just shy of turning one years old. You’d let your son run into your arms as he hid from the ‘tickle monster’, playfully pushing at Rafe’s chest as you protected the three year old from him. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep with your head so close to Rafe’s lap as he read to them, your son begging you both to stay until he fell asleep.

Of all the days in your marriage that you’d anticipated being the hardest, the ‘good’ days were not among them. Reality would set in during the morning, sometimes even that same night, and your chest would ache as you held back tears because what you and Rafe had was not real. It wasn’t a real marriage, and you weren’t a real family, and on those days where you forgot that, the truth just hit so much harder. All of the anger and disappointment would come back…and then the fear would set in.

It scared you how easily you could slip into that headspace and live in some alternate reality where Rafe was a good husband and your children hadn’t been the product of rape and you didn’t have errant thoughts of what it would be like to be free of him. It scared you how good it felt to forget it all, how a day might come where instead of finding yourself slipping into that mindset, you just…chose it.

It would be so easy.

…but you felt like you owed it to yourself to hate him forever.

Sometimes he made hating him so easy…and then other times so, so hard.

“They’re so sweet to you,” he murmured in the low lighting, both of your kids fast asleep in their room. 

You’d been trying to find sleep of your own, but Rafe’s phone call with Ward left you both up long after you wanted to be. You were unfortunately wide awake when slid in beside you, and your unopened eyes didn’t fool Rafe in the slightest. He knew you were awake.

“I would hope so,” you murmured, staring at the back of your eyelids as he lightly traced patterns into your satin covered stomach.

Your husband chuckled to himself.

“I mean they look at you like you hung the moon,” he quietly continued. “Especially your shadow…”

He was referring to your oldest.

“I’m barely there for him whenever you’re in the same room,” he whispered. “He’s happy that I’m home and he hugs me, but then it’s straight back to mommy.”

You slowly opened your eyes as Rafe’s hand became flat against your stomach, gently rubbing it.

“He treats you like a princess…”

You met his gaze at that, and you couldn’t quite place the look in Rafe’s eyes.

“...and I’m especially happy about it on days when I don’t.”

You sighed at that, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m glad that he’s nothing like me…”

You remembered Rafe saying something similar years ago before the boy in question had even been born, and you blinked as he leaned in, gently ghosting his lips over your cheek. You were tempted to push him away, but then you asked yourself if you wanted to start a fight so late in the night. Instead, you turned your head to face Rafe, your lips a hair’s width away from his own.

“I’m glad he’s nothing like you too,” you whispered.

You didn’t miss the way his face fell at that, a tick in his jaw that told you your words had the desired effect. Instead of saying something along the lines of what you both knew he wanted to say, Rafe merely heaved a sigh, still gently rubbing your stomach. He suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking down at you.

A smirk ghosted over his lips.

“I want another baby.”

Those words were the last thing you’d been expecting, and your eyes widened just a tad.

“...what?”

“Let’s try for a girl this time,” he suggested, and realizing that he was indeed serious, you sat up.

His hand fell away from your stomach.

“This time?” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “I don’t recall trying for anything the previous times.”

The mention of what he did to you had Rafe going silent, and when you looked at him, his nostrils were flaring.

“It can be different this time-.”

“How?” you wondered, frowning at him. “How will it be different this time? The only time I touch you is when I’m forced to, and I don’t know, that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me.”

Rafe’s hand had circled around your chin before you had time to react—he was sitting up now too—and you both just cooly stared at each other. He looked like he wanted to hurt you, and you stared back, just waiting for him to prove you right. He seemed to be toying with the thought, and after a few moments, he slowly exhaled through his nose.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his blue eyes following the action.

A million thoughts were racing through his mind, that much you could tell by the emotions that flickered over his features. Eventually he settled on one, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re not always unhappy…”

It was said like a statement, but there was a lilt there that told you he wanted an answer.

“No,” you eventually responded, honestly. “Not always.”

He nodded.

“...but I’m unhappy more than I’m happy.”

He closed his eyes at that, and you swallowed.

“What did you expect, Rafe? Sure, four years is a lot, but it’s also not when I think about everything you did to me.”

He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. You watched him stand there, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

“...and what makes it worse is that you’re not even sorry. I know how much you want me to ‘just get over it’, but how am I expected to get over it when we both know you’d do it all over again so long as it got you the same result?” you choked out. “You’re not sorry for any of it.”

You blinked away tears.

“...and now you’re mad at me so much because I won’t roll over and play house.”

You saw his shoulders heave, and you could tell how much this conversation was frustrating him. Rafe really hated to be reminded of his own actions, hated to be reminded of the fact that your relationship was where it was because of him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were the one trapped in this gilded cage…not him.

“So, if you want another baby…” you quietly started. “...either something needs to change…or you just embrace the beast we both know you can be.”

His eyes snapped to yours at that, and as much as it made your heart skip a beat, Rafe rarely scared you anymore. You’d seen him and experienced him at his absolute worst. There really wasn’t much he could do to you anymore that would shock you…and he knew it. 

His baby blues glinted dangerously, and you bit your tongue.

He did the opposite of what you expected, and you watched him turn away from you to leave the room. You didn’t relax, knowing he’d come back, but you did heave a tired sigh, telling yourself that sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Rafe’s hand tightened around your throat as he kissed you, the alcohol on your tongue making the kiss taste sweet. The world was moving so slow around you, and every place that Rafe touched felt like you were being gently electrocuted. Deep in the crevices of your mind, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn’t kissed Rafe like this in years, not since the early days of your relationship when you thought you might have loved him, and butterflies were in your stomach at one look from him.

You recalled the sight of your empty wine glass on the carpet, the rest of the red wine you didn’t drink staining the white fabric.

Your kids were asleep and the house was quiet and you were kissing your husband like you used to—back when he wasn’t your husband. Rafe had your back to the wall just barely on the inside of your bedroom, your hand struggling to reach out to the door. Rafe grabbed it, threading his fingers through your own, and you made a slight noise of protest.

He made a shushing noise into the kiss.

“Just relax…”

Relax.

That word triggered something in you, and you pressed your other hand to his chest. You were far too relaxed to be sober, and considering you only had one glass of wine, you knew that other substances were at play here. You recalled Rafe voicing his desire for another baby just the other day…and you recalled the slight back and forth it’d created. You expected one of two things out of Rafe, but neither of them included a scenario where you were too inebriated to properly fight back against him.

There was something especially sinister about Rafe creating this false sense of consent.

His lips traveled down towards your neck as he bent his head, and you felt like you didn’t have control over your body as you threw your head back. You shakily exhaled when both of his hands descended towards your waist, lifting you and forcing you towards the California king. When he settled you both onto it, all pretense was gone.

“Don’t you want a little girl?” he whispered against your skin, his fingers dancing along the place from where your shirt had ridden up. “Hmm? I know you get sick of being with just us boys.”

You made a noise that was unintelligible even to your ears, pushing at his head, but it was of no use. Whatever he slipped into your drink clearly wasn’t in his, Rafe having all of his strength and wits about him as he pinned you down. He kissed you again—slow—as his hands circled around your wrists. It took your breath away, and your lashes fluttered when he descended.

“A princess for my princess…”

You reached out to place a hand on the bed to steady yourself. Although you knew it was the room spinning, not you, and so focused on that, you didn’t even realize what Rafe was doing until the cool air you’d briefly felt against your core was replaced by his mouth. The action made your back arch, and—against your will—you reached down to press your hand against his head.

He hummed in between your thighs.

“You never let me do this anymore,” you heard him whisper, his breath against your skin before he dived back in.

To be fair, you never let him do anything, but especially this. It was too intimate, too loving, and those words were so far from the true nature of your relationship it wasn’t even funny. After all, Rafe was now at a place where he had to drug you just to get you to stop fighting against him. You found it interesting because he never minded the fight before. In fact, you’d even say that some part of him enjoyed it.

You wondered what had changed.

His head moved back and forth between your thighs, and it made you squirm. One of Rafe’s hands reached up to dig into your leg, holding you still. The other found your hand, and you were unable to remember that you didn’t like holding his hand. Another gesture that you felt was too intimate, something Rafe always liked to pretend that your relationship was.

Just when you were on the brink of coming all over his tongue, your husband pulled away, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh. With stars just barely floating in your vision, you laid there, eyes falling closed as you fought to regulate your breathing.

A voice in your head told you that you didn’t want this, and that you needed to get up…but you couldn’t find the strength to.

When Rafe’s hands were on you again, they were pulling away every piece of fabric they touched, and you couldn’t help the tears that kissed your eyes. Being forced to feign compliance in your own assault somehow hurt a thousand times worse than if Rafe had simply grabbed you and held you down. You wondered if this made it easier on him, and you thought about how much Rafe hated being reminded of the things he did to you.

It was like it hurt him to remember it that way, to acknowledge it for what it was.

When he slid into you, you couldn’t help the small whimper you let out, eyes rolling as he stretched you out. Rafe’s hands were on you, pulling you closer, and as if your arms had a mind of their own, you threw them around him. His chest was pressed to yours as he thrust into you, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He cursed when he sank into you again, and your toes curled.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.

“...have to drug my own wife just to get her to fuck me…”

Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back, and Rafe hummed at the feeling. You’d forgotten what it felt like to lie beneath him and just let him have his way with you. It felt like so long since he hadn’t had to force you down and take his cock despite what you may have wanted. Although, your current position wasn’t all that different, but you couldn’t ignore how relaxed you were from whatever he’d slipped you.

Rafe shifted, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. His blue eyes glinted in the low lighting, and you blearily blinked up at him as he gazed down at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours while still holding your gaze. Your lips parted at a particularly hard thrust, and the corner of his lips curved upwards at the sight.

Deep in the back of your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but it was for so many reasons that you were struggling to remember. For the time being, all you could focus on was the curve of his cock as he repeatedly pushed it into you and how good it made you feel. One of your legs hooked around his waist, and Rafe’s perfect teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“I missed this, beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

The bed jostled from your movements, and Rafe glanced down between you to watch himself disappear into you. 

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he told you, making your heart skip a beat and reminding you of how and why you’d found yourself in this position in the first place. “Can’t wait to see you swollen and round again and fucking glowing.”

You murmured his name, but you couldn’t tell if it was in protest or not.

Your mind was all over the place, and when Rafe’s hips curved into yours again, you arched your chest up into his. Sweat clung to your frame, and you briefly wondered how made you would be at him in the morning. You knew this wouldn’t be his only attempt—Rafe always proving to be more than thorough when trying for a baby—and you now weakly wondered about having to be cautious of the food in your own house.

You could tell when he was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his breathing picking up. He started  to kiss you more, each kiss becoming  messier and more open mouthed than the last. In your inebriated state of mind, you kissed him back, alarm bells going off deep within your bones. Your own breathing was labored, like you couldn’t get air into your lungs fast enough.

When Rafe came the first time—and you knew that it would be the first of the night—he grunted in your ear as he spilled into you. Your nails were trailing along his skin as he plunged his cock into you, not even stopping when you felt him start to soften, lazily thrusting into your folds. Your own climax was just around the corner when he spoke.

“I will fuck you all night,” he whispered against your cheek, his tone vaguely threatening. “I will fuck you as many times as it takes until you give me what I want.”

He leaned back a bit, his nose touching yours as he tilted his head, eyeing you in a way that made your skin grow cold.

“...and I will do whatever I have to to make you…” he looked between your unfocused eyes. “...agreeable.”

LANA LANG ⏤ Smallville 1.15 “Nicodemus” (insp)

"Cut, Casper. That's a wrap." — SCREAM (1996) dir. Wes Craven