#jigsaw x reader

[applesontheground]

fool me twice, shame on me 🧩

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY EIGHT - FUCKING MACHINE

you know i had to do (another) SAW thing for this prompt. this was also one i did some extra homework on, because i had never heard of a fucking machine up until the kinktober list introduced me to the concept...but i mean, what did you expect from a saw x reader fan when she heard about a machine that fucks you??

and as for which jigsaw i'm doing it with? why, the one who's my favorite because he's the absolute worst at it, of course!

NSFW | Word Count: 3,200 | Mark Hoffman x AFAB Apprentice!Reader (GN pronouns) contains manhandling, fucking machine/chair, bondage, edging, hair pulling, penetration, overstimulation, slight somno/dubcon themes 🎼: x, x (yeah this is a hoffman song in my head i'm sorry to say 😔😔😔)

John didn’t make this one.

You could see that in its formation from the poor welding job to the odd design altogether as you circled the lone chair in the middle of the floor, a metal box underneath and supported by the legs, serving as the foundation. Furthermore, Hiding what was underneath the seat.

Leaning in, you had remembered John scrutinizing this schematic. He didn't understand why the piston that drove a blade, something sharp and a physical encouragement for what the player needed to stop in order to live, had to be underneath them.

Your eyes boggled as the head of something else stared back at you, and just as you stood back from it, ready to have a field day with what you had seen, there was a force pushing up on your spine.

Immediately using him as a backboard to fling away, you turned and gave a tight expression as he lumbered forward, in the garb including that daunting mask. You caught the syringe in his hand, and immediately began trying to dodge.

He caught up fast, easily able to lift you from under the arms, throwing you against a nearby workbench in the room and boxing you in. A few prods close to your throat made your leg come out, and a yelp in his face that did nothing to save you. Part of you didn’t want to kick below the belt, but you were put in a rather tight position.

Sure enough, a knee drove into his stomach, and he stepped back as you tried to dart away, towards the doorway that you came in from. Another powerful yank of your arm got you close to him a second time, and you turned around to face him again, hold him away from you.

Grabbing his upper arms, feeling the muscle and the sheer force that he was holding you in place with, you sucked in a breath as the needle came to your arm this time instead of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you spat another obscenity at him. A grunt came from behind the mask, and you then stared down at where your elbow was pressing into his forearm, trying to rip his hands off of you in a last ditch effort.

The needle was there, just past your own skin and tucked against where your arms met, but when he let go of you, it was revealed the syringe was stabbed into the wrong forearm.

Your eyes shot back up, and he stepped back, the needle falling to the floor between the two of you. You caught your balance, wondering if there was any sedative in your bloodstream despite him missing.

“Fuckin'...” He stammered, voice clear as day under the mask as he held his arm. Taking a few backpedals yourself, you caught your breath, realizing what he had tried to do fully now.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You breathed, but he merely rocked back a few times on his feet – and then one lean too heavily did it. Jumping at the sheer noise of his body hitting the floor, you looked back at the chair.

Then to him. Disbelief, a lack of knowing what the fuck to do made you gaze back at the chair. Swallowing hard, you then looked down at him a second time.

Thoughts came together, making you slowly circle him.

Uncertainty turned betrayal, betrayal turned a recognition that he had failed. You crossed your arms, and muttered to yourself, “You were gonna put me in that, huh?”

You smiled, looking back at it, then turning slowly to stand over him now. You pulled the mask from his face, making sure he was asleep with a level stare at his closed eyes, trying not to find it endearing to see such a brutal man asleep. You then began snapping close to his ears a few times just for good measure.

“What to do with you, hm?"

You had to keep shaking your hands out, utterly tantalized the more you looked at the chair – and especially after you took all the strength training you had been getting into from the labors that came with being a Jigsaw accomplice. You hadn't been strong enough to take him when he was awake, but when he was dead weight?

It was still a chore to get him off the ground, but you were pretty satisfied to have him in his own contraption, especially considering what it was going to do to you in another pan out of this situation. You set his mask and jacket on the workbench in the room, finding a few folded schematics to what he had put together – and of course, the silver remote that powered the piston underneath the chair, driving up what he had told you and John last week was going to be a bed of nails.

You realized that was wrong now, lips pursed as you set the blueprints to the chair over his folded trousers. Everyone in the room had the same lewd thought in the back of their head when they saw a chair with no bottom in the first draft of the machine, a piston driving upwards with nothing on it yet. The motions were too fast to kill with one thrust.

You were only performing the liberties you assumed he would do to you.

With your back turned, you caught the sound of the restraints jingling against the metal of the chair, sleepy sighs from the man. It all must've felt a little taut since it was measured for someone with smaller wrists, but it’d still work. You looked at your wrists at the thought, imagining how they’d feel against that chair, all tied up and helpless. How one mishandling of a needle was what put you over there…and him in your place with a judgement from your own side of the fence.

“Oh, Christ.” He was realizing this too, you mused to yourself as you listened to his groggy voice with a smirk.

“Okay...” You turned slowly on your heels, falling back on the workbench in a lean and looking at him below the neck. You had taken his pants off, shirt halfway unbuttoned so you could ogle his full chest, leave some to the imagination. He wouldn’t respond well to being totally stripped, anyways. You evened it out by taking your shirt off, too. Your [bare chest/bra] faced him, pants and shoes still on as you didn’t respond.

“Okay.” He repeated himself, and your eyes met his finally with a smirk twinging on your face. “It looks like you’ve made a point.” He eased, but you cocked your head.

He was silent following that, and you hummed, “No, detective. I don’t think I have.”

“You really think this is a good idea?” He then asked, hands shrugging with upturned palms as he sat bound to the chair, and you replied, “Sure, it was yours to begin with. I'm only following in the footsteps, Mr. Bed of Nails.” He watched your hands skitter across the workbench, finding the silver remote you had tucked underneath his coat.

His jaw tightened, and he warned, “Easy, tiger. You have no idea what that’s gonna do.”

Eyes widening, you pushed off the bench now and walked towards him. “See, that’s what I mean. You don’t know what I’m capable of,” You waggled the remote in your hand, and insisted, “I know exactly what this does. You left your homework out for any stupid pair of eyes to catch them.” You crossed your arms, and then asked him, “How long do you think you were asleep for? What, did you assume I wasn’t going to reverse-engineer this thing, see what you were really working on?” You touched your neck, the place where the sedative had ghosted, “And then realize that I was going to be the one sitting there?”

He shrugged in the restraints.

“You know what I’m going to do now, I guess." You tapped the remote on your chin, grinning because you never quite got the turn in the limelight to say the next few words nearly as much as you had wanted to in your worst ideas of what this would all crack up to be.

"I want to play a game.”

He physically recoiled at the sentence, still trying to ease you down. “Look, hey. Look at me-“Your eyes went back to his. “And listen to me too before you do anything. I can admit that I misjudged you, [Y/N].”

Ignoring the plea, you stopped a few steps away from him, backpedaling as you found his pants on the bench. “Wait, wait. I almost forgot about the other one, too. You thought the first piston wasn’t going to be enough for the job?” You held up the black, smaller remote, and he adjusted uncomfortably, “This goes to the other part of the chair, doesn’t it?”

“No. It’s a fake for nosy assholes like you.” He suddenly bit, and you made a beeline over to him. You plopped down, straddling his bare legs with your own and seething back, “Bullshit. I played with this chair long enough to see what everything on it does. I even recognize where you got this one-“You smiled, the black remote between two of your noses, “Repurposed from one of those toys that someone like me would stick in her panties, walk around in public with while it rubs her all day – at the mercy of someone else.”

He looked you up and down, trying to find a crack in your certainty, but you quickly dipped your hand to his exposed cock, feeling the ribbed surface underneath it. “That would be good measurement to hit right where you'd want, you think?" You then shook your head and added, “This is sized for the wrong legs to sit in between, but…”

“I will say,” You then explained, “The positioning of the piston below the chair might be a little too far forward for you instead of me-“ You sat back slightly, balancing closer to his knees as he tried to lunge at you, and when you regained balance you finished, “But I think I made it work.” You then cooed a little more, readjusting as you went on, “Nice touch with the neck restraints, by the way.” You ran your hand over the collar around his neck, pinned to the back of the chair. Keeps you from moving your head too much, like you anticipated.” You ran your finger under his chin and sighed, “It’s funny. You and I are both biters, I guess.”

“I tried to take it easy on you, thinking you'd quit when you proved your point.” He warned, and you grumbled, “Again, I don’t think I have yet.”

“When I get out of this, I’ll show you just how much I can bite.” He muttered, and your expression froze. A few dry spouts of silence, and as your hand rested back on the silver remote you whispered, “Promise me that, Mark?”

You pressed the top button, powering the machine on. When no one sat in it, it had been rather loud, metal clanging against each other, the penetrative device itself scuffing against everything as the piston had driven it up into nothing.

A slow prod, something he designed with a surprising amount of care, made his expression pull tight. “You-!” He couldn’t talk, and you turned it off quick, watching him immediately shudder, heart practically racing and showing in the way his entire body tensed under you.

He spat, “You fucking bitch, you don’t just-“

“That’s not what the notes that you wrote say.” You glared, leaning in a little and your feet touching the floor in the stretch, the seam of your pants against his crotch and breath against his lips. “It said to power the piston before the vibrator. You were going to do that to me. Make me take it raw.”

“Maybe I was.” He suddenly muttered, "But I assume you'd like it raw."

You pressed the remote again, this time to the vibrator. He jerked around in the chair, not quite the same sensation for him that it would've been for you, but still fun to watch as it buzzed against him.

He started breathing a shade heavier, and that was when you hit the silver remote again. He got to feel a few more gentle prods up into him, his legs shaking already along with the stimulation against the head of his cock. "You dirty bitch, you even-"

"You had the lube in your jacket pocket..." You curled your lip up, "I'm playing as fair as you were about to, pervert."

Another breath through gritting teeth, he continued to writhe, but it seemed less pained and scared. You found a rhythm on the remote that got him making less ghoulish noises, and ones that had him staring up at you with a partially open mouth, letting you tug gently on the curled ends of his hair behind his head and not call you so many profane names.

“You know, a fleshlight would be a good addition to the piston.” You crooned, and after another heavy groan he muttered, “I’m looking at a perfectly good fleshlight on my lap right now.”

You held his shoulders now, and he suddenly goaded you, “Yeah, you know what I want.”

You maybe held out for a few beats, but when he set his forehead in the crook of your shoulder, another heavy shiver and moan against your skin, your hands went to your belt. “Didn’t know you became a whiner with someone else on top.” You observed, hopping off to unzip your fly.

“Turn this fucking chair off,” He demanded, “And sit on my cock before I go ahead and come without you.” The disheveled growl between words, his flushed face that had broken out in a sweat maybe within the first few pumps of the chair, and the messy hair that was partially his own doing and another part yours, made you clench around nothing. You fumbled, but turned your back to him as you continued to undress.

“Turn it off, [Y/N].” You paused, but then he hummed your name again, “Come on, [Y/N]-“ And you hit both remotes, the mechanical noises slowing and his body slumping slightly.

“No electric chair with a block of ice,” You sighed, underwear sliding down now at the pool of clothing by your feet, “But you’re hanging in there all the same.”

“Get back over here.” He barked, and you obeyed, remote to the piston still in your hand as you stood in front of him. Keeping the game fair, you had your sweater back on, a little loose on you just from you preferring a baggy shirt, but giving you coverage.

“There [he/she is / they are], now untie me.”

“No, sir.” You found your limit with his demands, and asked, “If I get on your lap again, are you going to bite?” He glared up at you, and then asked, “Did you want me to, princess?” You pulled your sweater over your cunt, stepping back until his cock suddenly twitched, and he sat back. “Shit. I’m fucking with you, come on.” He then rolled his neck, chest heaving and able to breathe without jostling, without penetration driving him up the wall. Sitting back, he spread his legs a little to invite you, and hummed, “You can trust me.”

You absolutely could not, but you still went out on a limb by sitting back down, rubbing your folds up against his shaft and watching his stomach suck in as he hissed through his teeth. Under your sleeve, you hit the button again, and slid down on his cock in the same breath.

"Motherf-!" He cursed again, and you let him go ahead with what he said he wouldn't do. Biting your shoulder, making you yelp in turn, but then start to mewl into his ear, airy breaths and hums as you started to use the leg portion of your strength training now.

He was back in an almost blissed out state, still shaking the chair and pulling on the straps but letting you ride him without another chomp, even making a few long, drawn out moans as you varied your pace.

Just when you keened, felt his own thrusts that met you in the middle start to shudder and spiral into uneven jerks peppered with strained noises from him, your feet hit the ground with one more moan from your own mouth.

You pulled off, and as much as it pained you as well, you hopped up again. Barely able to stand straight, you shuddered a laugh and ran a finger over your puffed out clit as he jerked in the chair, almost roared in the groan that came out. Precum slicked his thighs, and he splayed them open while trembling all the way down.

“Wht- What th’fuck are you doing!?” He could barely talk, spitting with clenching teeth, ready to rip you apart like an unkempt Rottweiler if you got too close. You eased him, trying not to laugh at the display, “Hey, hey, hey. I had to test you one more time, but I have my reasons.”

“I bet you do, lying cunt. Huh?” He snarled, and your hands fell to his clenched knuckles, pushing down on the wrist straps.

“Shh, yes. Yes, I do.” You quieted him, and murmured, “I wanted to rile you up one more time, because let’s face it, Hoff.” You took hold of the end of each strap, pulling on them slightly but not yet undoing them. “I want to see what happens to me when I let you out now.”

His furious expression tightened – not from rising anger, but instead a furious need, a realization he was about to get it. He sneered at you, almost in a challenge, and you did as you said, the leather straps becoming loose.

One hand shot out, grabbed you by your sweater, and the other slipped down to the ankle straps on the chair to finish the job. You practically felt the rough night ahead of you rising as he stood, hand tangling up in your hair and yanking hard against the roots to keep your eyes on him, his throbbing erection shifting between your legs and settling there as he stood toe to toe with you. The height difference changed the tides fast, your eyes boring up while his smoldered down.

“Didn’t know Jigsaw wanted to play so goddamn filthy. Guess you learned that from Kramer." He shrugged, but you blinked slowly at that, the quip scared in tone but your eyes wide with anticipation.

“Who said I learned how to play dirty from John?”

He clenched his teeth in a pained smile, walking backwards with you until you were up against the workbench again, him still driving forward after he finished walking so his cock went right back inside of you, making you whimper and your eyes roll back. He leaned in close, cradling your neck now as he spoke into your ear.

“Oh, so you’re finally saying it. That you’re my fucking [boy/girl/problem]?”

[tuiccim]

Wrecked (Part 2)

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, smut

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

Thursday night ended up being busier than usual with a large group coming in to celebrate… something. You never quite caught the reason. You were so busy tending the bar that you rarely looked up to see faces. It was nice to see the tip jar nearly overflowing towards the end of the night. 

You were pulling drafts for a couple of regulars when the door flew open and a grinning Cecily walked in as if she was a triumphant warrior returning from battle. You laugh and announce loudly, “Batten down the hatches! Hurricane Cecily is blowing through town!”

“Hey!” Cecily laughs as she hugs you, “The place looks great! How are you?”

“I’m great. I’m really good. Looking forward to hearing more about your adventures.”

“Yes, but for now, I need a drink!” Cecily drags you to the bar. 

“Let me guess… a blue motorcycle?” You smirk. 

“You know me so well,” Cecily grins.

“How was your trip?” You smile as you make her drink.

“Fabulous! Saw the sights, made some friends, and had some good times. Pissed my dad off to all hell and back because I refused the match he arranged,” she giggles.

“He should know better by now,” you laugh. Cecily’s father had won the genetic lottery when he, a beta, and her mother, also a beta, produced an Omega offspring. He had hopes of marrying her off to make connections and strengthen the family standing. What he hadn't planned on was her strong will and refusal to marry until she fell in love. It was something you envied about her and probably one of the things that had drawn the two of you together. She was an Omega that a family centered their hopes on which she refused to comply with and you were the broken Omega who had disappointed your family with your inability to comply. 

“No matter their designation, men are all the same. Hard headed and yet oblivious,” Cecily rolls her eyes.

“Can't argue with that. I-”

"Oh, Jesus. Here we go," Frank's raspy voice interrupts. 

"Hey Frankie," Cecily teases. 

“Welcome back. What trouble are you planning to get into?” Frank asks as he takes the stool next to her.

“All the fun kind,” she grins. 

“Oh, Cec, Frank's best friend is coming to town soon. You'll have to meet him. I have a hunch you two will be hilarious together,” you giggle as Frank narrows his eyes at you. 

“Don't give her any ideas. Those two would tear apart the town together,” Frank turns to Cecily, “And if you let him, your bed, too.”

“Well, I'm certain I can show him a good time while he's here," Cecily says slyly. 

"Heard from him yet?" You ask.

"Yep," Frank says with a withering glance at Cecily. "He'll be here tomorrow. Leaving Sunday night or Monday."

"I can't wait to meet him," you wink at Frank. 

Cecily gives him a wicked smile, "Your best friend must be so interesting. Tell me about him."

Frank looks up at the ceiling as if praying for help but, knowing Cecily won't give up easily, he gives a few details, "He's an Alpha. Owns a security company. Real smooth with the 'megas and isn't the kind anyone can pin down. Just your type."

"What are you trying to say, Frank?" Cecily narrows her eyes. 

"Nothin'," Frank gives a shit eating grin. 

"Mm-hm," Cecily sips her drink. 

"Okay, you two, enough. I've got the room ready for him and a bottle of booze waiting," you say as a fresh group comes through the front door, "Play nice while I deal with the newcomers."

You walked away unworried about the two. Despite the way they ribbed each other, they actually liked one another. Cecily held respect for the man who had seen the gem that is her best friend and Frank was grateful for the unwavering support she showed you. So, while they always had harmless barbs to lob at each other, there was a mutual respect shared. 

Occasionally as you poured drinks and served, you would glance over to see them conversing companionably. In one such moment though, your stomach dropped a bit seeing Cecily's hand on his knee as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. You shook the feeling away, knowing she would never do anything untoward, and relaxed even more when Frank laughed while shaking his head. She was probably making a comment she didn't want overheard. You berated yourself for being so insecure. Frank was a good man and, even if he did choose to leave you for an Omega without your hindrances, he would never hurt you in that way. He would tell you... or he would just disappear, which was one of your biggest fears. One day, you would wake up alone and every trace of your life together would be gone. 

Just the thought was devastating. You had never expected him to stay this long and now you were spoiled by the presence of an Alpha in your life. You shake the negative thoughts away. Frank is your Alpha and he is going to mate you. But even that thought came with doubts. Your mind wouldn't let you believe that he would really mate you. He had said it to comfort you. He hadn't really meant it. He wouldn't tie himself to a wrecked Omega for life. No Alpha would. 

"Hey! Can I get another one?" A voice pulls you out of your melancholy thoughts. 

"You got it," you smile at the man and pour. The night is busy for a Thursday but you manage to make it back over to Frank and Cecily after a while. 

"Frank has been filling me in on his friend. I can't wait to meet him," Cecily smiles. 

"Well then, he's given you more information than he's given me," you laugh with a wink at Frank. 

"That's not true. I've told you stories about Bill," Frank laughs. 

"I had pull teeth just for you to tell me his last name!" You assert. 

"That's highly personal information," Frank smirks. 

"What is his last name?" Cecily asks. 

"Now see what you've started!" Frank exclaims. You stick your tongue out at him and laugh as his face drops. "Oh, very mature," Frank grouses.

"I'm sure your thoughts were when I did it," you tease him, leaning over the bar to whisper the words. 

"You're gonna be using it tonight," Frank groans out and then grabs you by the back of the neck to lay a kiss on you. His tongue plunders your mouth before he releases you with a smirk. You knew you were in for it when you got home and you couldn’t wait. 

“Ugh, now I’m looking even more forward to this friend of yours coming. Maybe I can interest him in a little PDA,” Cecily pouts. “I’m heading out. See ya tomorrow.”

“Night,” you and Frank say in unison. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Frank asks. 

“No, it’s okay. Head to the cabin and rest. I’ll see you in a bit,” you reassure him. 

“Alright. Be careful,” Frank gives a backwards wave as he heads for the door. 

The cabin. You always called it that or the house, never home. Part of you was scared he would correct you if you did; the other part worried it would scare him away. It was a precarious place that you stayed mentally with Frank. A fine line you balanced between loving his presence and fearing his absence. Would you ever feel confident in his commitment?

Billy coming had to mean something. Frank wouldn’t introduce you to his best friend, the closest thing he had to family, if he didn’t have intentions of staying. Maybe it was because you felt like Frank always had his eye on the door, waiting for the moment he would have to leave or for his past to catch up to him. How much did you even really know about his past? Maybe meeting Billy would give you more insight into him. 

When the bar closed a couple of hours later, your bouncer, Jordan, walked you to your car. A precaution he insisted on since the incident with the drunken Alpha. You wondered at times if Frank had asked him (or threatened his life) to ensure you got to your car safely. He really was sweet in his gruff way. 

By the time you made it to the cabin, the windows were dark. The porchlight and a small lamp just inside the front door were on but the rest of the house was dark and quiet. You smile to yourself, remembering Frank offering to stay until closing. Obviously, you had made the right decision to send him home since he was already asleep. He worked hard and deserved the rest. 

You quietly make your way to the bathroom and quickly wash up. You peek out the door at him and a sliver of light falls over his body. His arms were curled behind his head, his bare chest rising and falling with slow breaths, and between his thick thighs his heavy cock laid. You lick your lips and feel a surge of disappointment that he’s not awake but then a wicked thought crosses your mind. He never shies from waking  you up by fucking you… maybe he wouldn’t mind the same treatment. After all, he had said you'd be putting your tongue to work when you got home and you didn't want to make a liar out of him.

Shedding your clothing, you make your way to the bed. The sliver of light from the bathroom still lays over him. When he first came to your house, he would wake at every noise or touch but over the months, he had relaxed and was actually a fairly deep sleeper. Leaning over him, you lick a stripe from tip to base. His cock jumps and he stirs but his eyes don’t open. You repeat the action bringing another small response from him. Taking him into your mouth, you work your way down his thick cock inch by inch, your hand wrapping around what you can’t fit. Frank makes a sexy groan as he flexes towards you, his eyes slowly open as you watch. He grabs your head and moves you slowly up and down. 

“Fuck, this’s the hottest way to be woken up,” he growls. “Couldn’t wait until the morning for this cock, huh, babe? Had to have it in you one way or the other?” 

You moan your agreement while hollowing your cheeks. Frank’s deep growling moans are making you wet and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pressure. 

“Goddamn, I can smell you. Getting wet from sucking this cock. Get up here. C’mon,” Frank uses his grip to pull you away from his cock and then up to straddle him. You immediately position him at your entrance and sink down, biting your lip to hold in your moan. “What’d I tell you about that?” Frank pulls your lip from your teeth. 

“Don’t,” you whisper. 

“I wanna hear every sound,” he insists. “Now, you wanted this cock so bad, let’s see what you do with it.” His smirk relays the challenge as he lays back, folding his hands behind his head. 

Never one to back down from such a challenge, you knew you had to make this good. You worked your hips to get every last inch of his thick cock inside of you. He was so thick that each drag of his cock was a direct hit to your g spot but he was in so deep there was a bite of pain when he hit your cervix. You ignored it as you rode him and eventually it lessened to a mere whisper of discomfort. Putting your hands on his chest, you leaned a little more forward to grind your clit against him and let out a long moan as the new angle hit even more pleasurably. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Frank groans and then flexes up into you. 

“Oh! Fuck,” you whimper. You move more quickly, squeezing him as you barrel yourself towards orgasm. Not worried anymore about living up to his challenge, that first spark had alighted in your belly and you chased it. 

Frank ran his calloused fingertips over your nipples, no longer content to be a mere observer. He squeezed and feathered over them while watching your face. His hips came up to meet yours and your mouth dropped open to let out a small cry. He repeated the motion until he saw that sweet look pass over your face. The one that told him you were too far gone to turn back and he held himself back from coming with you. He wasn’t ready to be done yet. 

“I’m coming,” you cried as the waves of pleasure took over. Your body spasms around him as you ride out the orgasm. 

“Atta, girl. Squeezing my cock so tight. Fuck,” Frank watches as you fall apart on top of him. When your orgasm had run its course, you stopped for a moment to catch your breath but it didn’t last more than a few seconds when a smack landed on your ass and Frank’s gruff voice said, “We ain’t done yet, ‘mega. You wanted this cock so bad, you woke me from a dead sleep. Now you gotta finish what you started. Move that ass.” 

The shit-eating grin on his face made you want to be just a little defiant. You pull off of him and he immediately protests, “Where do you think you're going, ‘mega?” 

Pushing him back down on the bed, you lean in to give him a small but potent kiss. “Trust me, Alpha,” you give him a seductive look before turning around and straddling him again in reverse. You work his cock inside of you again and then look over your shoulder, “You wanted to see me move that ass…”

You bounce on top of him, being sure to give him a full view of your ass cheeks as you fuck him. Frank loved your ass and was always grabbing, slapping, or finding some other way to get his hands on it. Somehow, you had never gotten around to this particular position with him and you could tell right away it wouldn’t be the last time. His hands shot out immediately to grope you, a smack landing only a few seconds later. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Frank growled, his hands never stilling as he watched you fuck him. He was mesmerized by the jiggle of your cheeks with each motion you made while seeing his cock splitting you open. He sucked his thumb into his mouth, wetting it before pressing it to your tight little hole. He rubbed back and forth, teasing just the tip against your ring of muscle, as you rode him harder and harder. 

“Oh, fuck, Alpha. It’s so good,” you whined. The angle was hitting your g spot and you could feel yourself building again. 

“That’s right,” Frank growls, landing another smack to your ass, “Good, little ‘mega. Just need this Alpha’s fat cock splitting you open, huh?”

“Yes!” Is the only word you can manage at this point. You were tiring but the pull of another orgasm and Frank’s words were enough to keep you going. You were dripping from his praise.

“Fuck!” Frank cries out before grabbing your hips and slamming up into you forcefully. He repeats the motion over and over again and you can’t hold in your scream when you come. Frank’s loud grunts as he releases inside makes you clench around him. He flexes a few more times while holding you in place against him. When he had calmed, he pulled out and then positioned you to lay next to him. “Thanks for the wake up call,” he chuckles in your ear. 

“My pleasure,” you laugh. “I think I’ve always known the answer to the question of whether you’re a boobs or butt man but I think tonight solidified it.”

“Ass man, all the way,” Frank’s laugh rumbles through his chest. 

“Shocking,” you tease.

“Mm-hm,” comes out quietly. 

You glance over your shoulder at him and see he’s already drifting back to sleep. You smile to yourself and listen for his breathing to even out before slipping out of the bed to clean up. Glancing back at Frank from the door, you shake your head at his ability to be fucking the life out of you one minute and then practically asleep the next. “I love you,” you whisper to his sleeping form, knowing you’d probably never hear those words from him. 

–

The next night, Friday, was busy as usual. Frank had sent a text that a water main break had delayed him and he’d be late making it to the bar. It made you a little nervous that you might meet Billy without him here but you try to brush it off and keep up with the crowd. Especially since your other bartender called out. You were glad Cecily had made an early appearance and you set her to work behind the bar with you. She was great at helping out in a pinch and genuinely enjoyed working the bar, as the tip jar showed. Her flirtation skills were on point as you watched her flip her hair and wink at a patron. She knew how to play them like a fiddle. 

She looked gorgeous. Her short, wavy hair fell over her forehead attractively, giving a peekaboo effect that was coquettish. Tight black jeans, boots, and a one shoulder green tank hugged her curves as she twirled a glass in her hand before pulling the tap. You smiled as your eyes followed her for a few moments and she sent you a wink when she caught your stare. 

You were in a lull when the smell hit you, something dark and woodsy and undeniably Alpha. You turned to find a stranger sitting at the end of your bar with his eye on you. His incredibly dark eyes seemed to bore holes right through you. He was handsome, lean but muscular, dark hair brushed back from his forehead in an undercut, and casual clothes that seemed tailor fit. He was dreamy for lack of a better word. Making your way over, you smile at the newcomer, “Well, hello there, stranger. What can I get for you?”

“Whiskey, neat,” the man says as he eyes you. 

“Any-”

“Top shelf,” he interrupts your question. 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you smirk, “I’m afraid this bar’s version of top shelf is Johnny Walker. You strike me as more of a Lagavulin man.”

His face cracks a smile that had probably dropped more than a few pairs of panties, “You’re good, but don’t worry, I’ll stomach the Johnny Walker just fine.”

“You got it, chief,” you turn to pour the drink. Setting it in front of him, you lean on the bar, “What brings you to town?”

“Visiting a friend,” he says as he glances over at Cecily as she puts on a show while making drinks. 

Following his line of vision, you grin, “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Is she the owner?” 

“Mmm, excuse me,” you are distracted by another patron motioning for a refill. You quickly pour the drink and a few others before making it back to him. Pouring him a second drink, you breath in his scent covertly, “Ac-”

“So, do you ever take a customer home?” He gives you a smoldering look.

“Do you always interrupt people?” You counter. 

“Only when going after something I want,” his eyes take a lazy path down to your cleavage before flicking back up to your eyes. You lean in closer to him, lowering your voice conspiratorially you say, “Not really but just occasionally someone tall, dark, and handsome blows through and I find I just can’t resist.” His eyes darken as he studies you and you could read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. “Oh, and to answer your earlier question, no, I’m the owner… Billy. Welcome to town.”

Part 3

Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Jigsaw/John Kramer Headcanons (Saw) (For Those Who Did Not Watch the Video and Do Not Want To Watch the Video)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am here with a new chapter. This one is John Kramer aka Jigsaw base headcanons and traits as a yandere from Saw. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter!]

(Disclaimer: John Kramer Aka Jigsaw is not yandere in canon. He is also not a good person in canon. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon. Once again slasher characters are NOT good partners to have in any regard. Thank you!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons With John Kramer aka Jigsaw From Saw-

.John Kramer is a man who once was in the worst place of his life.

.He lost a child and was diagnosed with cancer.

.So he tried to take his life, but he failed and this made him rethink life.

.He saw that humans had grown weak and that we lost the edge to survive.

.So he would test how far humans would go to survive. Putting them through gruesome tests to make them see life is worth living.

.What would they do to survive?

.He did not take pleasure in them at all, he came across you and ran these tests.

.For whatever reason you had given up on life.

.He had a different test for you as he could not bring himself to kill you or cause you pain.

.This test was to choose yourself over the people holding you back.

.Each room had someone in your life who was hurting you or in Jigsaw's eyes was holding you back.

.He made you choose between yourself and them.

.But he rigged it, placing fake evidence. Making you think this person was the worst.

.He put this plan into work years ago.

.He also would have wormed his way into your life.

.To show you that he was the only choice for you.

.He is a HUGE manipulative yandere that is for certain.

.He would end up manipulating you enough that you could only trust him, that you would only love him and want him in your life.

.Once that is done he would confess to you and make you his.

.He does break his own rules, by dealing with your rivals.

.He makes it almost impossible for them to win if they do somehow win.

.He gives a threat to them, that if they ever come near you again he will end their life.

.That is there one and only warning to stay away from you.

.They better stay away from you or they will pay.

.He is an old man and just wants to live with the rest of his days, also have you carry on his legacy and make sure that you both live on forever.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done, I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy all of my sexy muffins!]

[tunaslayer696969]

Amanda young x reader

tw: blood , guns , heavy make out?, mentions of death. You have nightmares of Amanda getting shot in the neck and dying basically saw 3 :)

You turn the burner off taking the pasta off the stove pouring it in to a strainer then grabbing the pasta sauce and hamburger meat pouring it in to a bowl you then mix it up when you set the fork down the oven dings you turn around and grab a oven mitten and pull the garlic bread out then set it down on the container top and turn the oven off then grab a knife and cut the bread in to even pieces then grabbing a plate and putting some pasta and garlic bread on the plate then grab a monster drink from the fridge and you put a fork on the plate and grab the Plate and monster walking out the kitchen then down a hall the to the left walking up stairs to a room where you see Amanda working on a trap on the desk before you walk in you gently knock on the doorway when you do Amanda raises her head from what’s she’s doing and turning to you a gently smile shows on Amanda’s face and you return the smile with another smile “I made you some food seeing as you been here all day I thought you would like pasta and a drink to help you through your work” Amanda makes room on her desk for the plate and monster you walk over and set the plate and the monster on her desk “don’t stay up to late Amanda..please” you gently lay a hand on Amanda’s shoulder with a small smile “I’ll try and thank you for the food and drink I needed it” Amanda puts her hand on top of the one on her shoulder “if you want more just call me and I can make you another plate” you move some stuff over on her desk then turn around and put you butt to the desk then lift yourself sliding on to the desk sitting there “so what are you working on now” “I’m fixing a reverse bear trap right now” Amanda says as she stuffs her face full of food you smile and giggle at the mess she’s made on her face you reach over to the left and grab a rag then gently grab Amanda’s chin and pull her face closer to you then you wipe the food of her face and once your done you set the rag down but you don’t let go of her face instead you lean closer and kiss her on her big red lips you close your eyes and lean more in to the kiss tasting the food you made for her as Amanda puts her hands around your waist pulling you to her lap you fall in to her lap reaching your arms around her neck as the kiss gets heated more wet more noises coming from where you and Amanda are before you can go any further a cough comes from the doorway shocked you and Amanda pull back and both wipe your mouths you stand up pull your shirt down fixing it “so I see your busy” you’ve come to recognize the man as mark mark Hoffman “I was just about to leave” you speak up going to walk out the room but Amanda grabs your arm “no stay he won’t be long right?” She tilts her head with a smirk looking at mark “right I won’t be long Amanda John wants your help with the new trap but seeing as your…” mark looks at you again trailing your body “busy…I’ll help him then” Amanda let’s go of your arm and grabs mark by the shirt “back off I’ll Help John and don’t look at y/n like that okay?” Amanda leans closer to mark looking like she’s about to rip his head off for looking to you like that you gently walk up and pull Amanda off mark “help John I’ll fix the trap you were working on” as soon as Amanda hears your voice she’s calms down and let’s go of mark with a scoff and walk away “is that all you needed mark?” You say as you gently fix his shirt and step backing with a soft smile “for now” he says with a smirk then walks off to once mark is gone you let a sigh out turning back to the desk moving the half eaten food off the desk then sit down where Amanda just was sitting then working on the trap…….

A hand on your shoulder shocks you awake you pull back in fright looking up to see mark with his hand on your shoulder “mark?” You look around “where’s Amanda?” You ask mark as he takes her hand off your shoulder “she’s getting back from helping John she should be her soon” you nod your head standing up stretching when you put your arms above your head and stretch your shirt rises and marks eyes shot down to where your shirt no longer covers starting long and hard you feel eyes on you and you put your arms down fast and fix your shirt “shame Amanda is the one who got you” mark says not so quietly to himself “excuse me?” Mark realized he said that out loud and shook his head “nothing” just on beat Amanda walks back looking a little beat and sweaty you smile and go to hug her but the smell that comes from Amanda stops you “ew you stink” Amanda rolls her eyes “well gee that’s one way to greet me” you smile and giggle “take a shower then I’ll give you that greeting you want” mark rolls his eyes and walk out and when he does Amanda smirks “I will after I get one kiss” you go to say no but when you make eye contact with her and then you see her smirk you break and fall in love all over again and smile and lean in for a small kiss but when you do Amanda wraps you in a hug and rubs herself all over you smiling and laughing you hug her back “now we both need to shower” Amanda says as she while  catching her breath letting you go from the death hug you smile and sniff your shirt and fake gag “ewww! Amanda!” You smack her arm “really!” You smile and giggle as Amanda sticks her tongue out at you the stop and take in the moment happy you got put in that trap knowing if you didn’t you would’ve never meet Amanda you gently walk up to her and pull her in to a soft kiss pouring all your love in to a kiss you pull back and really look at her she’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen and ever will “I love you Amanda I always will” you feel tears falling from your face dripping on to Amanda’s still face you realize it was memories going through your head you come to the moment seeing Amanda with blood all over her neck remembering the guy who shot her in the neck you shake Amanda “Amanda please..please don’t leave me…” you shake her again but she doesn’t move she doesn’t even blink you hear John grunt in pain in the bed “please your all I have..if I lose you then I’m truly Alone…PLEASE!….” You break tears went from slowly showing to now poring you lay your head on her chest trying to feel a heart beat but you feel nothing….you jump out of bed sweating “it’s a dream….” Panic you look and feel around for Amanda you get out of bed running door to door calling out Amanda each door you look through your hope dies more till you get to the last door you slam the door open waking Amanda up from her desk nap you start to cry and run to Amanda holding her as close as you can “w-why are you crying” you sniffle “your alive..your alive my Amanda your alive..” Amanda rubs her eyes “yea I’m alive what are you talking about” you shake your head not wanting to talk about it “I just want to hold you” you bring Amanda’s face closer to you then you move your head to her chest listening to her heartbeat…

[lostgirlfandom]

The Right Partner

Pairing: Billy Russon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut and Angst. 18+ only. If you aren't 18 or older, don't read please.

Words: 1.8k

You stood at the big windows that showed the whole of Hell’s Kitchen from your apartment that you shared with your fiancé. Or that you use to share with him.

Your arms crossed in front of your stomach as you took in a shuddering breath. Closing your eyes, feeling the dryness and swollen from crying for the last couple of hours. Since the Homeland Security agent left. Since Dinah left.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know he was taken. I didn’t know that you existed till after the fact.” Dinah’s face was pained and pinched up for a split second before schooling into a hard mask.

You thought of what she said… About how her and Bill slept together. How Bill cheated.

Your eyes watered again but you clenched them shut. Bowing your head as you heard the front door open.

“Baby! You home?” You heard Billy call from the entrance area. Probably toeing off his shoes and taking his jacket off. “Did you want to order in tonight? We could get your favorite? It’s been a while since we’ve both been…” His voice trailed off from the living room now. Seeing the duffle that was packed with your things. “Off.” He finished. “Baby?” He spoke slowly and cautiously.

Taking a deep breath and hardening your face and heart to try and face him as you lifted a hand to wipe your face of tears. Turning, you walked into the living room from the bed room.

“Hey, you going somewhere? Is something wrong?” He asked after seeing your red blotched face from crying, eyes still swollen.

“Yeah…” You rasped out but your voice broke at the end of the word. You swallowed and licked your lips. “Yeah, I’m gonna go stay with my sister/brother/friend.”

“Did something happen?” He grew worried as he walked up to you and put his hands on your upper arms. You closed your eyes and pulled yourself from his touch. His brow pinched up as he watched you. He grew even more worried. “Hey, talk to me.” He softly told you as he moved his head to get you to look in his eyes.

“I can’t stay here. Not now.” You opened your eyes and looked him in the eyes. You saw the confusion and worry grow in his gaze. “I know, Billy.” His brow frowned even more as he shook his head in confusion. “I know about Dinah.”

His body froze as you spoke her name. His eyes widened and his arms dropped to his sides. A deep frown set onto his face, along with guilt and regret coated his eyes. “Y/N-”

You didn’t let him finish. “Why? After everything, Bill. I’ve been with you since we were teenagers and you…” You took in a deep breath. Harshly, you clenched your eyes shut again. Blocking out the stabbing feeling in your chest as your stomach clenches, having the feeling of an oncoming panic attack. “You just… You just decide to throw that out… and for what reason? For some women? Was I, was I not enough, huh?” You spouted out.

Your words stabbed him, making him rush to answer you. “No, baby, no. That’s not it at all.” He shut his eyes as he knew he had to tell you why he did what he did. About Cerberus. About the mission. So, he did.

He told you the whole thing. Even the fact that Rawlins held his fate and reputation over his head from his involvement with the mission. He didn’t want any part of whatever Rawlins had going on but the man had most of the money in Anvil and also has proof that Billy had a hand in killing that Homeland Security agent even though Billy didn’t know who it was.

You and Billy now sat on the couch after the long explanation from him about what was going on. “He told me to sleep with her.” He whispered. He stared out in front of him as he fiddled with his fingers. “If I didn’t…” His face scrunched up in pain and his eyes watered. You bit the inside of your lip; this was the first time that he’s come close to crying since he started explaining. “If I didn’t… he would have killed you.” His voice cracked and he rasped out to you. He turned to you and a tear fell down his cheek. “He would have killed you and I would rather have you alive and hating me than you not being here at all.” He finally let out a sob and clenched his jaw.

“Oh Baby.” You spoke out softly as you watched his head bow down. You reached out and put a hand at the back of his head and pulled him to you as you kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He clutched the fabric of your shirt and leaned more into you as he sobbed into your shirt. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, letting him get all his emotions out before you spoke up. “I get it… I understand, Billy. I do. And we will get through this. I’ll be here.”

He sighed in relief as he reached up to cup your face and then pulled you into a desperate kiss. It screamed relief and love and hope. You pressed back just as desperate and clutched onto his sides.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and then leaned back while pulling you onto his lap to straddle him. His hands left a burn as it trailed up your shirt and gripped the skin on your sides and back. Making you shudder as you softly rocked against him.

Your breaths mingled before he breathed out. “I love you… so fucking much.”

Ripping off your shirt, you gasped and pulled his off as he went about getting your bra off. Trailing his lips down to your neck, he pressed open mouth kisses on the side of your neck. Biting down in a spot, making you gasp out a moan and throw your head back. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he marked your neck and chest with love bites, pressing kisses and licking them as he did so.

His hands scratched down your back as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and licking at the nub as his hands went down into your leggings and panties and squeezed your ass harshly. He moaned as he felt your skin against his hands and you riding against him.

You felt the hardness against your core as you grinding down onto him. He surprised you by moving so he had you pressed into the couch. Detaching himself for a moment to lean up and then pull your leggings up and off you along with your panties. He leaned back down and kissed over your chest and stomach. His hand trailing down to rub at your entrance. You clenched around nothing as you felt yourself get wetter, as you were already becoming a little slick from the grinding. He bit his lip and leaned up to watch your face as he rubbed your entrance and clit.

Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you moaned out and locked eyes with him. “So wet for me, baby. Such a good girl.” He leaned down and kissed you passionately as he continued to rub your pussy till you were slick and ready for his fingers. He pressed his middle finger into your entrance slowly, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable as he went all the way in to the knuckle.

He then slowly thrust his finger in and out for a few strokes before adding another finger, softly curling them. You moaned as you closed your eyes and took in the sensations. His lips and touch, making your stomach clench as you enjoyed the feelings. He made sure you were slick and ready for him as he took his fingers out and then rubbed your entrance, lips and clit with his wet fingers.

He then hurriedly leaned back and undid his belt and pants and pushing them down with his underwear. His cock springing up and hitting his abdomen before bouncing back down. You watched him and licked your lips. He didn’t even pull off his pants all the way, just enough to pull his cock out.

He leaned down and kissed you again, tangling your tongues together as he rubbed his shaft over your lower lips, getting himself slick. He moaned into your mouth as he felt how wet you were with his cock, making him leak pre-cum. He teased at your entrance with a few thrusts of his hips, making you both moan and gasp.

Finally, he reached down and guided himself so his tip is at your entrance and pressed into you. You gave a whining moan as he stretched you out as he slowly entered to the hilt. “Always so tight for me, baby.” He rasped out as he felt your walls clench around him. His cock pulsed slightly as your walls gripped him tightly.

Before long, he started to thrust his cock in and out of your pussy. Slowly picking up the pace as you both gripped at each other’s skin and biting at shoulders and chest.

Sweat started to coat your bodies, making it hard for you to grip at his back, making you dig your nails into his skin. He hissed but moaned as you dug your nails into him. He leaned up and pulled your legs up as he started to thrust faster. He bit at your calf as he watched you come undone at the new angle. Your hands moved down to his thighs as you clenched around him.

“Getting… Getting close, Billy.” You moaned out as you clenched around him again. He groaned as he felt you tighten around him.

“Cum, baby. Cum for me” He demanded you. You looked up at him as you clenched down around him and came hard from the buildup and the demanding tone, he gave you.

He gasped and groaned as he felt you cum around his cock, feeling your pussy become soaked and creamy from the orgasm. His hips jerked and his rhythm stuttered as his balls clenched up and he came just after you. Filling you up as you moaned and became extra stimulated at the feeling of him cumming in you. He let your legs go as he leaned down between them and kissed you as his cock twitched in you.

Both of you breathing heavily and coated with sweat, but he didn’t move from you as he laid down over you. Making you wrap your arms around him. He didn’t move, even when he softened inside you but just laid there.

Your hearts started to slow down along with your breathing. You were quiet as your fingers trailed over his back as his hand pushed under your body to hold you.

And you stayed like that for a while before you both had to get up to shower.

But you both were peaceful and ready to face whatever came your way.

[celestialspecial]

Sharing an old favorite <3

These Beautiful Torments

Recovering from the fight that has left him badly wounded both physically and mentally Billy tries to piece together the parts of his past. To remember who he is, or was, but it’s never that easy is it?

Warnings: Trauma, Depression, Eventual Smut, Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy- Canon? We don’t know her. (If i missed any feel free to let me know)

Writers Notes: Ok this is my first chapter testing the waters of an idea that I’d thrown out there a little while ago. Let me know if you like/want more- I have a few chapters planned but will determine if I continue it or not :) Love you all bunches. *cover image to come soon!

It was always the lights. Flashing. Blindingly bright. Music lilting in the background. And the taste of blood. Filling his mouth and dripping out onto the ground below. Then he saw the haunting visage, a skull, burned into his retinas, emblazoned under his eyelids by those damned lights.

Then he’d wake. Sometimes slowly but more often than not, jolted. Attempting to rise himself upright only to find his body strapped down to the bed he lay in. He was still here, in the hospital. How long had he been here? A sharp shooting pain streaked across his forehead, eyes scrunched shut pleading for the pain to cease.

Keep reading

[moondirti]

jigsaws

— surgeon! simon riley x resident! reader

angst. anxiety. panic attacks. neurosurgical procedures. medical setting. mean simon. d/s undertones. 3.3k wc

There's a reason no one likes working with him.

Tough. Censorious, or hard to please – whispered wearily by nurses with permanent distaste etched into their crow's feet. He scathes anyone not accustomed to his abrasive exterior; a talus pile of whetted rocks, poised to flay you open should you take the plunge so confidently. Rubs your skin raw, brutally worms his way into your flesh, infamously bars rescue, allowing only saltwater to cradle your open wounds in the aftermath. Nothing about his criticism is comforting, not in the way an attending's support should be.

It sounds inflated. Excessive. Your intern year, you let the horror stories float you by as though they were nothing more than dust motes in an old room. To be expected, no? Hospital's are brutal for even the briefest of visitors, let alone a man who's worked here twenty years. In hindsight, you see that it's a type of discredit only the very fortunate can claim; inaugural residents and medical directors, those who do not have to deal with the virulent terror himself. You know better, now. Really.

Still, it feels as though you're being punished.

The air in the operating room is heavy. Clotted by a thick sense of unease. It's never like this, usually. Though the smell of burnt bone, blood, and remnant antiseptic is always a force to be reckoned with, you've gotten very good at shunning your nose for favour of your other senses. To tune into the vital monitor's beep, or the distinctions between this lump of amorphous tissue versus that lump of amorphous tissue. Reinterpreting them based on the plans you revised while scrubbing up, focused fingers around delicate tools prodding. Cutting.

Reliable perception is fine work. You've honed your personal ability the best you could.

The first lesson Dr. Riley teaches you, and rather gratuitously at that, is it takes just one person to throw it off kilter.

There's an impossible itch right where your mask hooks over your ears, latched nastily onto your scalp. Nothing you can address physically (sterility before comfort), though you're aware that its source isn't so easy as to scratch away. Figurative, then. An unwavering neg, pointed by a pair of cold eyes in your periphery. You're tempted to look up, throw off his stare with one of your own, but you think he wants you distracted.

So, you shift your weight and centre the electrocautery to another portion of abnormal growth. It comes apart like stale bread.

You haven't felt this micromanaged since medical school, when professors would loom over your shoulder and mark the clumsy way you sutured incisions shut. But where your grade had been on the line then, it's a person's life now. You seem to be the only one privy to that fact, or perhaps the one surgeon who cares.

Because Dr. Riley watches you over his wire-rimmed specs, grunting ambiguously under his breath like you can't hear him standing just a foot away. Maddening in that it's quiet, idle. To question it would be putting the burden of critique on yourself. To let it continue–

Sweat pools beneath your collar. The spotlights don't help, either, heat lamps on your roasting nerves, highlighting the wet sheen of your temple to whoever cares enough to notice (just him). Focus feels a vain pursuit, attention zeroing in and out of control. You're caught in the violent dance, swept away, water beneath your feet, between the operation and everything else. Everything else, like the ground that suddenly pushes too hard beneath you. The walls, stretching further and further away. There'd be nothing to catch you should you fall – a possibility that gains traction by the second, your vision spotting with exhaustion.

You almost lose it before a flash of green reels you back in.

It's instinctual. Entrenched response to a colour that only ever means one thing. Looking up at the neuronavigation, you watch as the silhouette of your apparatus veers dangerously close to the patient's motor cortex, highlighted in nausea-inducing neon for maximum visibility. Dr. Riley's presence darkens the space next to the screen, a point of singularity that consumes anything within its event horizon. Though it's the last thing you want to do, you coast a hesitant look over to him.

A surgical gown is meant to be ill-fitting. You find he fills the fabric in a manner antithetical to that design, shoulders stretching it tight across his neck, tree-trunk arms drawing tense pleats around his joints. Even his cap, wrapped smoothly around his forehead, ripples with every shift of his brow. Doubled-up gloves warped to the contours of his hands, thick fingers and knuckles. You watch the way they twitch, distorting the latex like a swift fish underwater, and swallow the stone lodged in your throat.

"I can't read your mind, Doctor." Your attending snaps when you take too long to elaborate. His voice is rough, a sucking chest wound in the sterile air of the OR – too raw, natural in a way these halls don't see. You squirm uncomfortably in the force majeure. "What's the hold up?"

"Um-" You pull away from the glioblastoma, your patient's head remaining tightly in place by a positioning frame. "I'm concerned about resecting this part. It's all wound up in healthy tissue, right up against the motor cortex. A wrong move could cause permanent damage."

Dr. Riley doesn't move. Instead, his blank stare flicks down to the surgical site, digesting the truth for himself. The anesthesiologist beside you holds her breath. You wish you had it in you to do the same, but your lungs already wheeze for oxygen as it is.

Somewhere, dim and timid in the recesses of your mind, it occurs to you that this isn't normal. No attending should actively foster an environment where help is punished, especially not while being paid a hefty salary to do exactly that. A dour attitude is one thing – everyone has their days – but you know nurses with greater burdens that boast smiles and little stickers on their ID badges, running on three hours sleep while dealing with bedpans and lewd comments all day. Your search for guidance, then, is certainly not the worst thing in the world.

(No matter how stern the look he gives you is.)

"You need to make a decision. Hesitation in the OR can be just as fatal."

Great load of good that does.

But it was to be expected. Pre-op, you sat down with him to discuss the acceptable margins, and got as much out of that conversation as you did this one. Review the imaging. You've been given the functional mapping for a reason. Never mind that it was standard procedure to check-in regardless; he handles you like you're a child playing dress-up, waving around tools too complex for your grubby hands to operate. Asking him anything is validating what he believes, like kindling wood into a roaring fire. Your mouth smacks to the taste of ash.

The discoloured mass growing off your patient's brain seems to glare back at you. Ugly, yellow, and stained in a coating of blood, severed from its sisters that now lay dead on an adjacent table. It kills you to let it stick, to progress to hemostasis with an increased risk of recurrence. Should this individual ever come in again, their pain would be on your hands – a real possibility you cannot reckon with, for all you know how devastating a toll it would have. The last time it happened, you promised yourself you would never allow it again.

(A mistake that even the greenest of medical students know not to make. Promises are null in this field. They'll blow out like bad tattoos, ink smudged under skin. Patients die, families grieve, doctor's bear the guilt – to fool anyone about it would be doing a greater disservice. Conciliation is not your job. It is not a duty you owe.

Not even to yourself.)

"I… I think we should stop here to avoid any potential issues." You resolve, lips pursed painfully tight. Your hands shake, bullet of emotion ricocheting within your ribs. Your nerves are shot, you tell yourself. It'll take time to compose them, time you don't have. Better to shelf this, then. You're doing the right thing by wrapping it neatly for another day, if that day should ever come.

Dr. Riley huffs.

Or, not.

"CUSA," He clips to the scrub nurse, who shakes as they place the tool into his impatient hand. It's all you can do to watch in horror as your attending commandeers your case, addressing the portion of concern with offensive expertise. The activity on the neuronavigation doesn't so much as blink as he emulsifies the target tissue, tumored cells dissociating from the surrounding matter like butter.

And it isn't a learning opportunity – hardly anything at all when he washes the area in saline solution, manoeuvre over as quickly as it started. Instead, your attention sticks to the casual disrespect he felt was necessary. Snubbing your insight like it was dirt beneath his shoes, too competent to even address your error with words. Humiliation rips like a wave up your neck, washing your ears and cheeks in balmy warmth. Underneath it all, settled like wet sand on the shore, you find that it is not your bruised ego that's left, but rather a wilder, darker thing.

Shame at having failed him.

(How obnoxiously redundant.)

"Think you can manage the duraplasty, Doctor?" Derision distorts his expression into something crueller than his usual indifference. You hate to think it suits him.

"Yes."

It's only an hour later that you're granted the chance to break down.

After wound closure, scrubbing out and postoperative discussions with the patient's family, you think you'd have moved on. Things like this happen – it's what necessitates post-graduate training in the first place – and you're certainly not irredeemable for having faltered on the line. At least, that's what the logic delineates. It mutters its assurances like dogma in your head, insisting that because it is rational, it is right. Any other day, you would be inclined to listen to it.

But that's the thing about being strung out beyond measure. The only sentiment with teeth, sharp and stubborn, is anguish. Indignity. Self-turned anger. You replay the scene like something new will come of it, a silver lining or a divot to pin the blame in anything but yourself. The scalp staples back into place, the dressings wrapped tight. The hibiclens soap lathers up to your elbows, your skin itchy as it dries. The family is thankful, little tears dotting their eyes. The storm passes, waters rippling into quiet calm. And still–

In the wake of it all, you're irrevocably changed. Raw.

There's a little closet for occasions like these. You're relieved to find it empty, void of anything but rusted buckets and mildewed mops. It's a welcome crowd, certainly, borderline claustrophobic compared to the wide floors of the OR, and you sink to the floors within the tight, comforting embrace. Immediately, hot tears spring to your eyes, rabbit heart racing along hollowed ribs. Emotion rushes your throat, tumultuous and messy, piling half-formed grievances on top of one another until they form an intricate, prodigious beast.

Impossible to tackle, worse to tame.

Could you have done anything different?

Is there a reason why he hates you?

Are you cut out for this?

Is this worth never getting a good night's rest?

Do you deserve any of the opportunities you've been given?

Would they be better off in the hands of someone more competent?

No answer claims any. Unresolved, they wriggle underneath your flesh, feeding on the muscle keeping you intact. Tunnelling through your marrow, soft matter fattening them up. You feel as though you're shifting to accommodate them, anatomy morphing into an ugly sack of dermis and maggots. True reflection of a degraded conceit.

The dark, at least, remains omnipresent. Clean against your skin, or purifying, in some odd way. If there is no witness to your misery, then perhaps you can pretend it doesn't exist. That it doesn't affect you as much as it does, or how you won't be thinking of it during every case to come–

A knock rattles you out of your reasoning.

"Hey." Kyle's voice is soft on the other side of the door.

You make your best effort to wipe the wetness from your cheeks, warbling a quiet come in to your chief resident. Fluorescent light intercedes on your little sanctum, spotlighting your crumpled frame. The pitying grimace that twists his face is enough indication that you did not do a good job at hiding your affliction. You must look pathetic.

"We missed you at lunch."

"Wasn't hungry." You sniff, taking his hand to pull yourself up.

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse than you could've prepared me for."

He snickers. It alleviates some of the weight off your chest, this. Conversation to remind yourself that there is more to the world than your angst.

(Only some.)

"It'll get easier, I promise. He's harsher on the juniors."

"I think that's not for you to say. Tell me, has there ever been a superior who didn't absolutely adore you?" Your voice sobers to a close resemblance of Laswell's. "Good work on the diagnosis, Dr. Garrick. I'll admit, I wouldn't have caught that myself."

The man in question lightly shoves your arm, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Okay, hush. I get it. Still–"

"You don't have to do this, you know." You smile until it gets too much to sustain, then turn to gather your white coat from behind the front desk. The note of positivity his companionship brings is fickle. Appreciated, but not enough to balm the sore blisters of Dr. Riley's rebuff. That'll take the weekend, likely, holed up in your room with nothing but a cuppa and old How I Met Your Mother reruns. "I'm fine, really. I'd rather just continue about my rounds and forget he exists."

But Kyle sighs. Sighs, and bites his cheek in that same way he does when he has to deliver bad news to intakes.

You blanch. "Don't–"

"He came looking for you in the mess hall. Something about the report." The unsteady composure you've built within yourself immediately dissipates, as though it were nothing more than an absorbable stitch. "You know better than to skip out on post-op briefs."

Your voice is weak when you speak again. Breathless. "I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you, darl. But he wants to see you in his office, now." Kyle's face is sympathetic. It doesn't do you much good. "I'll cover your rounds in the meantime."

"Thanks."

And despite your true gratitude, the words ring as empty.

"Sit."

Like a marionette suspended on string, you do as you're told.

Dr. Riley's office is barren of any personal adornment, cast in the same austere template initially given to him. There's a leather couch tucked prim under the window, throw pillow flat on one end. A wire file organiser sits atop his desk, papers fighting for space between the flimsy bookmarks. Pens in a cup, a stapler by his keyboard. All ordinary, inconclusive belongings, that which you sift through like a ravenous creature, slobbering for clues at the life your attending leads.

Ironically, the one thing that offers any inference is an empty photo frame, faced towards the rest of the room, away from him.

You don't like the uncomfortable feeling it inflicts.

"The family." He levels a bored look to you, that which hardens the longer you take to address his ambiguous question. In the harsh lights of the operating room, his eyes looked nearly black. Now, sunlight paints a clearer picture. Taupe and sepia, flecks of various browns brightened by the pale blue underline of his mask. "Doctor."

Floundering, you search for the clouded memory of your discussion with the patient's relatives. It ripples, faintly, between your revels in self-pity. If you needed any censure of your disordered priorities, that is surely enough.

(Funny how he continues to criticise you, even unintentionally.)

"Good. Hopeful. I told them you managed to resect the entire thing, and detailed the plan going forward." It's as though your hands are compelled to move by electric shock, charged full of destructive energy. You rub your face, twiddle your thumbs, scratch the armrests of your chair; trying any measure to defuse the bomb you feel ticking beneath your chest. "They give their thanks."

All the while, he remains steady before you.

A moment of tense silence clears. "I just submitted the operation report." He says, derailing the conversation to what you suspect has always been its purpose. "I mentioned your inability to close the surgery."

You damn near choke on your spit. He notices, of course, and raises a challenging brow.

"I- I'm sorry, but that isn't what... I was perfectly able to complete it." Your protest carries none of the strength you will it to. As is always the case around him, you're made to sound like a defiant student, instead. Pouting and stomping your foot, inflating your strict sense of justice to an occasion that does not call for it.

"Oh?" You know you're not crazy for thinking that way, either. He speaks in faux conciliatory tones, brows knitting together as his argument waters down to one he thinks you can digest. "Would you rather I have said you refused, then?"

You shake your head, staring down at your lap. You really, really don't want to be here. Is it worth it, then? To stand your ground when the worst that will come of his misstatement is an inquiry from above? The strength has long since left you. Now, it is a matter of bloodletting. Leeching the struggle before it festers into something greater, a malady you cannot control.

"No."

"Make up your mind, Doctor." He hums, grabbing a protein bar from his drawer before standing. He doesn't have to round his desk to tower over you, but he does. Heat radiates off him in waves, blushing your neck so that when you look up at him, owlish, your face flares with stockpiled fervor.

You wonder if it could be read as desire.

"You know best." Shutting down has never been so disencumbering. Acquiescence, upending an ivory flag with the knowledge that you don't have to bleed any longer.

His lashes flutter. When you blink, they seem closer than they were before.

"That's right." Dr. Riley practically fucking purrs, chest rumbling thoughtfully at your chosen response. A pressure settles between your legs, bloating desperately into that bundle of nerves that inhibits all reason. "So next time, if you have a problem with the way I do things, you'll address it to me directly instead of snivelling like a bloody prat. That way, maybe I'll explain it to you, too."

A nod is not enough.

"Yes, Dr. Riley."

He cocks his head, fiddling with the wrapping in his hands. His fingers are scarred, brutish, though they tear the foil with all the precision in the world. Your acceptance does not feel nearly as final, expectation thickening the space between you. The title startles to your tongue, then. Novel. Unsure. You haven't called anyone it since secondary. You do not know whether he'll take to it kindly at all.

"Yes, sir."

But his eyes crinkle at the corners, pleased, and it more than fills the hole he harrowed out from you earlier. Your reaction to the approval should be documented, given a name and listed somewhere on the DSM-5.

(Nothing about it feels healthy.)

"Good." He pushes off the edge of his desk, tapping a knuckle to your chin. Instinctively, you open your mouth. The protein bar fits between your teeth, pasty and dry, but his pulse vibrates near your lips and–

You bite down anyway.

(But oh, does it feel good.)

[masterlist]

[lucycore]

Idk I kinda got bored and did one of these again since the It one blew up so much and now that it's halloween time I made it with the slashers.

(I say it cuz idk what to call these posts)

[These contain your house, outfit, weapons and such]

—

🎃 If you were in Halloween 🔪

—

😱 If you were in Scream ���

—

🦷If you were in Saw 💣

—

🎸 If you were in Child's play 🪡

——

If these blow up I will do it again with more slashers.

[melissarz]

%%€@$?!;/%£•¥\{>€%$&;(##

😍😩😍😩😍😩😍😩😍😩😍

[applesontheground]

play the game 'til i'm dead 🧩

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY EIGHT - SWALLOWING & COCKWARMING

major shoutout to @bisexual-horror-fan for giving me a little idea on how to tackle what i already had in the thinktank for this <3 <3

the working title for this one was "a case of epic bad luck" but i ended up changing it last second. seemed too on the nose, but know that the temptation was there.

NSFW | Word Count: 2,205 | Mark Hoffman x Female Apprentice!Reader contains DUBIOUS CONSENT TO MENTIONED SWALLOWING, teasing, predator/prey, manhandling, brief mention of voyeurism but nothing comes of it, edging, mouthfuck 🎼: x

You were working under Jigsaw. Of course you had a little too much interest in playing with the wills of others.

It started casual enough: tapping his shoulder when walking by, adjusting your pants so the arches of your thong showed for a split second, and that wasn’t even including the instance where you bent over, sliding part of your body into an incinerator that was going to be utilized for the next trap just to hang a syringe for an individual to have to crawl all the way inside for. Of course, you tried to do it with your backside still out, but eventually had to bend one knee, slide even further inside.

He was standing a few paces away, having to remain there like a tied up dog while John was in eyeshot just outside of room, able to catch of anything he may do and unaware of what was going on just around the wall. There was a pretty ragged part of himself that didn’t particularly care what Kramer spotted, but he chose to keep control of himself by focusing on something else in the room that needed rigging.

When you slid back out, shirt riding up and showing the matching color of bra, a dropped screwdriver made you look over at him. You two held the stare, and part of you wondered if he knew you were well aware of what you were doing.

A strike of bravery ran through you, and decided you were going to make that clear. You strode over, eyes downcast and smile barely subdued. You then adjusted, bending down in front of him to get the tool, hair curling by the toe of his boot as it hung down, and then handing it over with an innocent murmur. “Dropped this.”

He nodded back slowly, taking it without so much as a cough that resembled thanks. You walked away promptly, asking John about something that needed to be reconfigured somewhere else in the house that was being set up.

It was going to be fine, so long as the constant stayed constant, and someone else was around to keep him in line.

“You guys have to go where?”

Amanda turned to look at you, and explained again, “There’s a problem with a few of the traps over in the warehouse across town. It can be handled by just two of us, so I was thinking that John and I could go take care of it while you two finish up here, right?”

You glanced around the dim workshop, not sure where Hoffman had walked off to, but then you thinly answered, “Sure, think that’s easy enough.”

Most of your tempting had been a couple hours ago, but his hard glares were a sign it wasn’t going to be forgotten, and that you were getting payback the second he had you alone. He wasn’t meatheaded enough to do it with others around, so you comfortably kept walking along that tightrope: licking your fingers before straightening something on the diorama on the tables, stretching rather playfully, and now?

You had just set up the stage for the moment these two would drive away.

The other woman seemed to read something akin to what was going through your mind in the way your calm expression twisted a little, and she walked over carefully. “Are you worried about being left alone with him?”

Your eyes shot up from staring at the table, and playing dumb you asked, “Should I be?”

Amanda scoffed, “No. He’s surprisingly fair when it comes to…how he treats women. Doesn’t take advantage – and I would know, both of us scoured his records after he started working with us.” You tilted your head, matching her halfhearted smile. She then touched your shoulder, and assured you, “Really, he’s safe. …And if he isn’t?” Her fingers slid off your shoulder, “We’ll take care of it.”

You grinned now, and finally sighed, “Alright, alright. You guys have my burner number if you need anything. Or his, but-“

Amanda started walking backwards, and she quickly declared, “I’d call you, [Y/N].” You laughed now, but as soon as she smiled to signal her exit and turned her back to you, your eyes widened. Quickly, you scoured the room, hearing John and Mark discussing something casual in the other room. Most likely the same thing she just told me, you figured. You started looking around for good hallways to slink off to, somewhere to hide while hopping a little in place, unable to just stand there.

It was idiotic to admit this prospect excited you, but remembering the few times you had seen what he does to people who’ve caused him problems, the pit in your stomach fluttered in both terror and arousal.

The doors to the warehouse slid shut somewhere on the other side, and the sound of footsteps now approaching the room you were in made you brace. You rushed over to a nearby shelf, pressing into the shadows and watching for his entrance. He wouldn’t be hard to miss, squared shoulders coming into view.

“Think you’re funny, huh?” He asked, “Well, let’s see how hilarious this mess can get, [Y/N].” You swallowed hard, seeing him circle the table you had just been standing at. Your heart raced, not able to see where he was looking, and whether or not he could see as clear in the dark as you were. When a turn of his head swiveled back to stare straight, right where you would be in a clear line of view, you shot out to make it for the door.

What you had advantage for in speed he did in strength, one yank of the hem of your shirt making your feet slip under you in a botched run and torso slam into the doorway, his own weight shoving you twice as hard into it from the back.

“John was telling me your ability to anticipate how plans are going to pan out was growing sharper since he dragged you into all of this.” He then spoke, taking your upper arm that wasn’t pushed into the wall and twisting it behind your back, “I disagree. This is turning out pretty poor for you as far as I can tell.”

You winced, but then let out a laugh, “Shit, I try not to assume it’s gonna work out in my favor every time, but this was really unexpected.” You let him pry you off the doorway, and mentioned, “Amanda told me you were going to be harmless.”

He grimaced at that, eyes narrowing as you then asked, “Well, and speaking of the others, if Dr. Gordon comes in here?”

“Neither of us should be thinking that far ahead.” He muttered down at you, his eyes catching an open spot on the table and turning you around with him. You made this last part hard, slamming your shoulders into his chest and finally groaning in a satisfied defeat as he got you doubled over the hard surface, an ugly clang echoing through the room.

His will was fun to play with, but now it was your turn. He took a second as his hand snaked around, undoing your belt and finally getting to see the underwear you had merely shown glimpses of in its full appearance.

He lingered on it for a second, and you were surprised he knew what taking its time meant as you enjoyed the pause before they were pulled aside and a middle finger slid through, bumping your entrance and not even taking the time to tease.

“Oh, give me a break.” He muttered, craning down to loom over you and speak directly against your face, “You’re that wet before I even did anything?” You looked down at what he was doing, unable to make eye contact as he muttered another curse, pulling away and wasting no time replacing his finger with the tip of his cock.

You let out a strained noise, almost hurt as he slid halfway in, a hand running up your back, under your shirt to feel the bra now, and he then went the rest of the way. You spat through the labor, the initial pain that made you shiver through your words, “You’re just going for it, huh?”

“Oh.”

Your eyes widened again, practically feeling the dread spur your core as he stilled, “I’m not moving, hon.” You squirmed, and he responded by immediately bracing the back of your neck, “And I don’t think you are, either.”

Your breaths were labored, but that was all you gave him at first. Staying still, both arms on either side of your head and his moving to hold you down by your wrists. You set your chin against the table, forming a hunch that you could outwait him.

He was the one who adjusted now, and you quickly bit, “Oh, get a load of this lying bastard.”

“What? I’m not moving.” He lied, another slight pull out before bumping your core again, and the first huff melted into a groan. A spike of bravery, the same one that had been toying with you all evening as you did him, struck again. “I don’t know why I expected you to play fair.”

You clenched your walls around him, the heat from the act (or lack thereof) seeping through to you as the hold on your wrists tightened. He breathed deeply through his nose, and you decided there was a new angle you could take. “I can’t believe I wanted to play with a man who can’t keep his word.”

You smiled, seeing a slight shake in his arms, and his lips purse tight from the corner of your eye as you pressed your ear to the table and spoke over your shoulder, voice trembling and stuttering but continuing to egg on. “Here you are, telling me to stay still when you’re on the verge of fucking my brains out. Wouldn’t that be enough of a rut for the both of us? I don’t even have to come-“

“You’re not going to if you keep talking.” He sputtered, the snarl to his voice making your jaw fall open, and somehow you felt as though he slipped even deeper, holding the position as your voice fell from grace, and you asked, “I th-think I just…” You heaved a breath that jostled both of you slightly, and splayed your legs just a bit more comfortably.

“Sure. I just want you to do it, then.” A twitch in you made you twist the knife, and you even put a little hum to your voice now instead of the brutality you had laced it with, “Please.”

Another awful sound from above was all you got before your hips were released from digging into the table – and then promptly shoved back in. Forming bruises made you yelp as he started taking a pace that was half orchestrated, a decent rhythm, and quickly spiraling out. He released your wrists, one hand now pressing back on your neck while the other hooked around your thigh.

“Stupid whore,” He muttered, and you merely hummed in reply, “Don’t forget how easy it was for me, how badly you fucking wanted this.”

“I do,” You agreed, “And you’re giving it to me. It’s a t-two way street-“ You cut yourself off with another hiccuped moan, jostled to the point your feet barely stayed on the ground as you melted back into his pace, barely heard what he said next.

“This isn’t ending the way you think it is.”

You sighed in relief, an itch feeling closer to being scratched and assuming it meant he was going to let you come, let both of you have some sort of release after the day you spurred on, no consequence for you after all.

That was lost fast, the sensation and warm tickle inside quelled as he suddenly pulled out. You almost had something else to say, whimpering slightly as he pulled you off the table, turning you around. You stayed silent for once, breathing through an open mouth and trying not to beg any more. Still, you gave him one look, and he responded by pushing you down to your knees.

A position you had teased him with before, you realized as you fell forward from another pull of your hair, positioning you to take the erection he still had, blue-balled to hell and back and burning against your tongue, into your mouth. You went all the way back, retching against him and grabbing his knees to brace yourself.

He froze, and suddenly you realized you weren’t just drooling out onto his base. You tried to pull back, begin gagging up the thick semen that was now dripping down your throat, filling your mouth, but he suddenly plugged your nose and held you still as you demurred loudly against him.

When he did pull out, he came down to one knee, hitting your head against the edge of the table and covering your mouth.

“Swallow it.” He demanded, and when you made eye contact but stopped struggling against him, stunned from the bump your head had taken, he nodded with his hair slipping into his face. Your breaths were muffled against his hand, but you supposed the best thing to do was play with him, not against him. He seemed to agree too, feeling you shudder as your throat finally started to take it down and your eyes closed.

“Good girl.”

[tuiccim]

Wrecked Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Features: A/B/O Dynamics, angst, smut, flirt, love triangle

Trigger Warnings: Darkish themes, manipulation, infertility, love triangle

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

Part 1 - 2/8/24

Part 2 - 3/7/24

Part 3 - 4/4/24

Part 4 - 4/18/24

Part 5 - 05/27/24

Part 6 - 06/20/24

Part 7 - 07/06/24

Epilogue: Six Months Later

[tokoyamisstuff]

Y/N, about Hoffman: I could fix him.

Jigsaw: Please don't. It took a lot of work to fuck him up this bad.

[lupinsversion]

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

• summary: when billy finds himself getting a call about his drunk girlfriend on halloween night.

• contains: billy russo x fem reader, partying, drunken reader, halloween

• word count: 820

masterlist || requests

Billy received the call from his girlfriend’s friends late at night. They informed him that she was at a Halloween party at a club and was a bit too drunk to handle herself, and thus she needed a ride home. With concern and also a hint of amusement at the situation, he quickly got ready and made his way to the club. He found her friends outside, waiting for him.

He approached the group, his eyes scanning the area for a moment before catching sight of her. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, dressed as a pirate, swaying slightly on her feet. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, amused by the sight of her, but also concerned for her well-being.

His lips curved into a small, fond smile as he noticed the details of the costume she was wearing. It suited her strangely well, the costume looking quite cute on her. He walked over to her friends, acknowledging them with a nod before addressing the situation at hand.

“Thanks for calling me.” He said, his voice a mix of gratitude and concern. “How drunk is she, exactly? Will she be able to walk or will I need to carry her?” He asked, his tone displaying his willingness to care for her despite her drunken state.

That’s when she noticed him and she stomped. “Aw, you guy’s called the fun police?” She whined.

His gaze immediately locked onto hers, his expression shifting from one of concern to slight annoyance mixed with amusement. He couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath at her comment. Even in her drunken state, her words held a familiar tone, filled with a hint of attitude that he recognized all too well.

He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. He felt her body sway against him as he tried to steady her and keep her upright. "Looks like I have my work cut out for me, huh?" He said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and resignation.

“I don’t wanna go home.” She whined some more, almost like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

He sighed playfully, rolling his eyes slightly. Her childlike behavior, a result of the alcohol, was actually quite entertaining. He couldn't help but find it adorable, but he knew he had to be the responsible one in this situation. "Well, maybe you should have stopped after drink number three, babe.” He teased gently, his voice carrying a mix of affection and slight annoyance.

“For your information I can hold my liquor quite well.” She protested as she placed her chin on his chest stubbornly.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her stubbornness. Her chin on his chest, her eyes looking up at him with that stubborn expression, it was almost too cute to ignore. "Is that so? Because it sure doesn't seem like it right now.” He countered playfully, his voice mingling with a hint of amusement.

She grumbled curses and protests stubbornly, incoherently in her slurs.

He couldn't help but shake his head with playful annoyance, as he listened to her drunken mumbles and protests. Her stubbornness, even in this state, was characteristic of her. He couldn't help but smile at how cute it was, even as she mumbled incoherent curses.

He tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer. Her unsteady balance and her stubbornness reminded him why he adored her. He rolled his eyes affectionately, looking down at her. "Come on, captain. You need to get home and sleep this off.” He spoke, his voice gentle but firm.

“I don’t wanna.” Her whining started back up again as she stomped. “M’ having too much fun.”

He sighed once again, but the amusement in his eyes remained. Her stubbornness, her stomps, her whining... it all made her seem so adorable, even though it was annoying. He couldn't help but find it cute, even in the midst of her drunken state.

He gently turned her around, facing towards the car. He put his hands on her shoulder, a little firmer than she would be used to, just to assert some authority. "Alright, babe. Time to go."

He guided her towards his car, his hand still firmly on her shoulder, ensuring she didn't have the chance to waver or bolt in the opposite direction. Her drunken stubbornness was almost endearing, but at the same time, rather frustrating.

He opened the car door and helped her into her seat, strapping her seatbelt into place before closing the door once she was secured inside. With a sigh, he walked to his side and got into his own seat. He turned the engine on, the car purring to life as he glanced at her, who was pouting like a small child in her seat.

She rolled down her window as he started to drive off, yelling to her friends. “Y’all suck. Suckkkk.”

© lupinsversion 2024

[tunaslayer696969]

this is my master list

okay so I will write almost anything but you really just have to ask and I’ll let you know but I will write for any character just ask me and I won’t guarantee that I will do all the requests but I’ll try to get through most of them and I won’t post on a daily just ones I can write so feel free to request anything :)

what I’ve done so far

Amanda young x reader

https://www.tumblr.com/tunaslayer696969/732129134667513856/you-turn-the-burner-off-taking-the-pasta-off-the?source=share

and I’m to lazy to write for people I plan to write for :)

[l1ndseyper3z]

I really don't know wether I like him or hate him

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS ACTUALLY DISGUSTING THE FILTH IS FILTHING PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION I DONT KNOW WHY I DID THIS

DATING MARK HOFFMAN HEADCANNONS

[SFW & NSFW] [F!READER]

warnings: Mark being Mark, daddy kink, bondage, age gap (both over 18), praise, degrading, gunplay, public sex, thigh riding, cock-warming, cumming inside, p in v penetrator, eating pussy, sucking cock, petplay, bootlicking, boot grinding, thigh riding, choking, sir kink, master kink, spanking, strong language

you are responsible for your own media consumption. minors dni.

SFW

master of PDA and physical touch

he needs everyone to know that you are his and NOBODY is allowed to even glance at you the wrong way.

if anybody even looks at you for slightly too long he perfectly flexes to expose the gun on his hip

if you're younger than him (which chances are, you are cause idk he gives off younger gf vibes) he is so protective

it does get a bit much sometimes but with the knowledge of his sister you can't exactly blame him

he always plays with ur hair

it grounds both you and him

he has to be big spoon

he likes having control and being able to keep you safe

100% teaches you self-defense

with the shit he sees (and does) he wants you to be able to protect yourself when he's not around

worries that jigsaw will test you

even though you've done nothing to deserve that because you're an absolute angel in his eyes

defo that boyf that follows you around stores carrying all ur bags and clothes

always kissing ur neck and hugging ur waist

he took quite a while to get used to you and begin to trust you because of his sister

will watch all ur fav movies and shows with you but complain the whole time (even tho he's secretly enjoying it)

pet names for you 100% consist of baby doll, baby girl, my girl, my girl, darling and sweet girl

he's so sassy for no reason whatsoever (name a saw dude who isn't???)

can be a bit cruel sometimes

and his ego gets in the way of apologising

when he realises he's fucked up he'll buy you flowers or something

he isn't great with his words so prefers to let his actions speak louder

he tries to like the music you like

if you tell him you relate to a song he'll figure out what it means and read through the lyrics to try and understand you better

THIGH GRIPPER

he so caresses your thighs when he's driving

half the time he dosent even realise he's doing it, it just happens

cooks for you

he so puts his hands in your back pockets

he just does

NSFW

100% gets bricked when you wear his clothes

ROUGH DOM

makes you beg to cum

uses vibrators on you as punishment

call him daddy in bed

just do it

it awakens something in him

will tie you up and use handcuffs on you

edges you

overstimulates you

has made you suck on his gun

or fucked you with his gun

absolute master of sucking pussy

chokes you when you aren't behaving

icl he is quite selfish when it comes to sex

wants you to suck him off all the time

ESPECIALLY IN HIS OFFICE AT WORK

He just loves looking down at your little pathetic tear and spit coated face as you suck on his big fat cock

King of praise and degradation

"look at my pretty little whore, sucking daddys cock so well"

"spread your legs slut"

so forces you to warm his cock when you've been a bad girl

and makes you ride his thigh when you're being a desperate slut

always cums inside you

he's not very vocal but you can get the occasional groan or curse out of him

lasts scarily long

will have sex anywhere, anytime

he has such a high sex drive

why do I get the vibe he has made you grind on his boot before

gags.

collars.

he's a kinky bitch and is probs into petplay of some form

"pups don't talk. now, if you lick daddys shoes clean he might just fuck your desperate little pussy"

just wants to see you panting on your knees below him as you obey his every command

will fuck your little pussy like there's no tomorrow

"good puppy, taking it so well for daddy"

will bend you over his knee and spank you as a punishment

and make you count aloud

and thank him

"now, bratty girls have to be punished, count out loud and be sure to thank master for teaching you how to behave"

"pup, I can't quite hear you, should sir up it to 25 spanks?"

his aftercare is okay

cuddles, water and maybe a shower but thats pretty much it

I'm sorry this turned out to be utter filth 😭

[godspeedviper]

"Is a person cut in half, two people?"

Matthew Gray Gubler as The Riddler