Dead Plate Oneshots Dystopia

The world had rotted.

After decades of conflict, natural disasters, and plagues, the human population had dwindled to dangerous lows. Cities once teeming with life were now hollowed shells of their former selves, with skyscrapers left to decay and entire towns abandoned, overgrown by nature. The streets were mostly empty save for the occasional elite, their luxury vehicles rolling silently through what remained of civilization. The collapse had brought an opportunity for those at the top to seize control, making the weak even weaker, and establishing new rules for survival in this hostile environment.

In this world, women had become commodities. With so few remaining, they were traded, sold, and auctioned off like prized livestock—breeding cattle, essential for the survival of the human race. Families of the elite had grown powerful by controlling these “resources,” breeding and training women to be docile, obedient, and above all, fertile. Marriage was a transaction, heirs were the currency of survival, and love had long since been stamped out of existence. Now, securing a partner wasn’t about affection or companionship—it was about securing the future.

For men like Rody Lamoree, the pressure to marry and produce heirs was relentless. His family, one of the wealthiest and most powerful in this world, had been on him for years. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his duty: “*Find a partner, secure the bloodline, have an heir.*” This was all that mattered now.

Rody had delayed, resisted the notion of buying a woman like a piece of property, but the reality of the world kept crashing down on him. His reluctance had been dismissed by his family as foolish idealism, and he was growing weary of the constant arguments. They had already scouted women for him, lined them up like cattle at an auction. Each time, he had found himself disgusted—not by the women themselves, but by the system that had turned them into products.

But then, there was Vanessa.

Vanessa had been born in a breeding facility—one of the countless factories that produced women for the elite. She had never known a life beyond her gilded cage, trained from birth to be submissive, docile, and perfect. Every smile, every bat of her eyelashes had been carefully curated to please the men who bought her. She had been taught that her body was a tool, a weapon, and her mind was to be hidden away, buried beneath layers of sweetness and obedience.

In public, she was a masterpiece of submission, a well-crafted doll that made every man salivate and every woman seethe with envy. She was everything society demanded of her: beautiful, silent, and utterly compliant.

But behind closed doors, Vanessa was a different creature entirely.

Rody first noticed it during their initial meeting. His family had arranged the purchase, and he had reluctantly gone through the motions, expecting her to be just another blank-faced product. She had sat before him, all honeyed smiles and fluttering lashes, her head bowed in the perfect picture of submission. But there was something about the way her eyes lingered on his, something that made his skin prickle.

That night, when they were alone in his expansive, cold estate, Vanessa’s demeanor shifted like the flick of a switch. She no longer smiled. Her eyes, previously docile, were sharp, cold, and calculating. Her voice, so soft and sweet in front of others, took on a tone of biting sarcasm.

“Well, aren’t you lucky,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall with a smirk. “You’ve got yourself a nice little toy. How does it feel?”

Rody stared at her, shocked by the sudden change. He wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if he even could. This world was one of control and domination. The elite owned their partners—every breath, every action, every thought.

But Vanessa wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t broken. She was playing a role, just like Rody was playing his. And now, they were locked in a battle, a twisted power struggle where neither could fully claim control.

The Lamoree estate was vast, a sprawling mansion surrounded by acres of land that had been passed down through generations. It was cold, sterile, a monument to wealth and status, but for Rody, it felt like a prison. He had grown up in these halls, trained to follow the path his family had laid out for him, but he had always felt suffocated by the weight of their expectations.

Vanessa’s presence only added to that suffocation. She was a constant reminder of the world they lived in, the world Rody had always wanted to reject. She acted the part of the obedient wife in front of his family, her every movement graceful, her every word measured and perfect. She fooled everyone—everyone except Rody.

In private, Vanessa was a tempest. She was sarcastic, rude, and unapologetically cruel in her coldness. She wielded her attractiveness like a weapon, teasing and manipulating Rody in ways that left him both angry and fascinated. She knew the power she held over him, and she used it to her advantage at every opportunity.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” she’d say, her voice dripping with venom. “I know you don’t want this any more than I do.”

She was right, of course. Rody had never wanted this. He didn’t want a wife he had purchased like a piece of furniture, and he didn’t want to live in a world where women were nothing more than tools for reproduction. But what choice did he have? The world was what it was.

Vanessa, however, seemed to have come to terms with her role in a way that Rody hadn’t. She used her looks, her charm, and her body as weapons in a game she had been forced into. It was survival, and she was playing to win.

Their relationship became a twisted dance of power. In front of others, Vanessa was the perfect wife, always at Rody’s side, her every movement graceful and submissive. His family praised him for finally finding a partner, for securing the future of the Lamoree bloodline. They saw nothing of the tension that simmered beneath the surface, nothing of the way Vanessa’s eyes would flicker with disdain when she thought no one was looking.

But in private, their interactions were laced with bitterness and resentment. Vanessa’s coldness cut through Rody’s attempts at civility, and he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with her.

“You could at least try to make this easier,” he snapped one night after another tense dinner with his family.

Vanessa looked at him, her eyes icy. “Easier? What, do you expect me to thank you for buying me like a slave?”

Rody flinched at her words. He hated the system they were both trapped in, but hearing it laid bare like that was still a punch to the gut. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she interrupted, stepping closer to him. “You bought me. You own me. Just like every other man in this world owns his little doll.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. Rody clenched his fists, his anger rising. He hated this—hated the world, hated his family, hated the role he had been forced into. But most of all, he hated that Vanessa was right.

As the weeks went on, Vanessa began to push the boundaries of their twisted relationship even further. She knew how to use her body, how to seduce with just a look or a touch, and she wielded that power mercilessly. It was the only real control she had in this world, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“You want me, don’t you?” she whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his skin. “That’s why you’re so angry all the time. You hate that you want me.”

Rody tried to resist her, tried to keep his distance, but it was impossible. Vanessa was intoxicating, a storm he couldn’t escape. She would press herself against him, her hands trailing over his chest, her lips brushing against his ear as she taunted him.

“You could have me,” she purred, her voice sultry. “If you weren’t so afraid.”

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was something darker, something more primal. A battle of wills, a test of control. And Vanessa always seemed to come out on top.

Rody hated it. He hated the way she could make him feel so powerless, so weak. But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her.

As time passed, the world outside their estate continued to crumble. The population continued to decline, the elite continued to tighten their grip on power, and women like Vanessa continued to be bought and sold like cattle.

But inside the cold, sterile walls of the Lamoree estate, Rody and Vanessa’s battle raged on. Their interactions were a constant struggle for dominance, a twisted game where neither could win but neither could afford to lose.

Vanessa was trapped, and she knew it. She would never be free, never escape the role she had been born into. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She would use every weapon at her disposal—her looks, her charm, her body—to carve out some semblance of control in a world that had taken everything from her.

And Rody—Rody was just another man, another piece of the system that had enslaved her.

But as much as she hated him, as much as she resented the world they lived in, Vanessa couldn’t help but see something different in him.

There was something about Rody that set him apart from the other men she had encountered. He wasn’t like the cruel, detached masters she had seen in the breeding facilities or the lecherous buyers who eyed her like a piece of meat. No, Rody was hesitant, conflicted. He carried an air of reluctance, as though he was as much a prisoner of this world as she was.

Vanessa hated that about him, too.

Because that hesitation, that glimpse of humanity, made things complicated. If Rody had been like all the others—ruthless, brutal, simple—it would’ve been easier to hate him, easier to keep him at arm’s length. But he wasn’t. He was… different. And that difference only made her more determined to break him.

“You’re pathetic,” Vanessa hissed one evening as they sat in the darkened dining room, the remnants of dinner forgotten on the table. Rody was staring at his hands, the tension between them palpable. “You think acting like you care makes you any better than the rest of them?”

Rody’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. His fingers clenched around his glass, and for a moment, Vanessa thought he might lash out, might finally show some of that anger simmering beneath his skin.

But instead, he sighed, his voice low and weary. “I never said I was better.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “You act like it. Like you’re somehow above all of this, like you’re not just another cog in the machine.”

Rody shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “I hate this world as much as you do, Vanessa. You think I wanted this? You think I *chose* this?”

“*Didn’t you?*” she shot back, her voice dripping with venom. “You could’ve walked away. You could’ve refused. But you didn’t. You bought me. Just like everyone else.”

Rody looked up at her then, his green eyes dark and stormy, his gaze piercing. For a moment, Vanessa felt a flicker of something—fear, maybe, or excitement—but she quickly shoved it down, refusing to let him get to her.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Rody said quietly, his voice strained. “None of us do.”

“*None of us do?*” Vanessa laughed bitterly, pushing her chair back with a sharp screech as she stood. She paced the room, her anger bubbling up uncontrollably. “That’s rich coming from a man who’s lived in luxury his whole life. I was born into this. *Bred* for this. You? You could’ve turned your back on it all. But you didn’t.”

Her words hit like a slap, and for a moment, Rody was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he rose from his seat and walked toward her, his steps deliberate.

“Do you think I want this?” he asked, his voice quiet but intense. “Do you think I enjoy watching you suffer? Knowing that I’m part of the reason you’re trapped here?”

Vanessa turned to face him, her eyes blazing. “If you hated it so much, why didn’t you do something about it? Why didn’t you let me go?”

The silence between them stretched on, thick and suffocating. Rody stood inches from her now, his breath hot on her skin. His presence was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Vanessa felt her carefully constructed defenses start to crack.

“Because I couldn’t,” Rody said finally, his voice rough. “Because if I had, they would’ve sent you to someone else—someone worse. I’m not pretending to be a hero, Vanessa. I’m just trying to survive in this fucked-up world, same as you.”

Vanessa swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wanted to lash out, to tell him he was lying, that he was just like every other man who had ever tried to own her. But something about the way he spoke, the raw vulnerability in his voice, made it difficult to deny.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them electric.

Vanessa broke the silence first, her voice low and biting. “Survive, huh? Is that what this is? Some twisted form of survival?”

Rody’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, his hand hovering near her cheek before he hesitated, his touch uncertain.

Vanessa’s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening. She hated how close he was, hated the way her body reacted to his presence. She had spent her whole life using her beauty as a weapon, manipulating men to get what she wanted. But with Rody, it felt different. With him, it wasn’t just a game—it was dangerous.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. “Don’t pretend this is anything more than what it is.”

Rody’s hand hovered for a second longer before he let it drop to his side. He looked down at her, his gaze heavy with something she couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe, or something darker.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know exactly what this is.”

Vanessa clenched her fists, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t let him get to her. She couldn’t afford to.

“I hate you,” she spat, her voice trembling. “I hate everything about you.”

Rody’s face twisted in pain, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he took a step closer, his body pressing against hers, his breath warm on her neck.

“Then hate me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “But don’t lie to yourself, Vanessa. You’re just as trapped as I am.”

Vanessa wanted to scream, wanted to push him away, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch even as her mind screamed at her to run. His hands were on her now, tentative and gentle, as though he was afraid of breaking her.

And maybe, she realized, he was.

“I’ll never forgive you,” she whispered, her voice tight with anger and something she refused to name.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” Rody replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m just asking you to survive with me.”

Vanessa didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her throat was tight, her body trembling with a mix of rage and confusion. She had spent her whole life fighting, using her beauty and her charm to protect herself in a world that saw her as nothing more than an object. But here, in this moment, with Rody’s hands on her and his voice in her ear, she felt something unfamiliar—something terrifying.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

So, instead of fighting, instead of pushing him away, she let herself sink into the darkness.