#killer is the third will in that relationship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keravnous · 6 months

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diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

#i'm back girlies #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #smut #my writing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut

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sanguinesky-if · 9 months

Text

Sanguine Sky

DEMO [Public] [Updated 11/05/2024] genres: romance, modern-fantasy, supernatural, mystery, dark-fantasy.

Sanguine Sky is a work-in-progress modern dark-fantasy interactive novel. The story is heavily focused on romance, characters, and relationships.

The story rated 18+, contains mature and distressing content that may be triggering to certain individuals. It is recommend to check the full list of warnings before you proceed to the story. Please exercise caution and take care of yourself.

Word count [Public]: 96k [excl. code] | 116k words [incl. code] Word count [Patreon]: 180k [excl. code] [Updated 07/09/2024]

You are a detective, tasked with investigating mysterious murders that have taken place in your normally quiet and peaceful hometown, Fallenmor.

With two victims confirmed already, the initial one being your former mentor, Detective Bergmann, the situation couldn't seem more dire. Or so you thought until you received the news of another body, a possible third victim, discovered at the police station. In your very own office.

An accident, a mere coincidence, a straightforward warning, a looming threat, or something entirely else… Whatever is happening, you feel it affecting you, awakening something both significantly familiar and distinctly foreign inside of you.

If only you knew that this was just the beginning… Things could have been different.

But back then, in your ignorance, your singular concern lay with a pressing question: if you failed to find the murderer, who would become the next victim?

➤ Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay, or bisexual.

➤ Customize your appearance and shape your personality.

➤ Take on the role of a detective, immerse yourself in the work of the police station.

➤ Embrace the mystery of your existence, or reject that inner sight of you.

➤ Seven romance options to choose from. Select their gender, be shy or bold, or focus on your goal without pursuing anyone.

All ROs are player-sexual and gender-selectable [M/F].

Kyle / Keira Moreno

Your colleague, a police inspector, and one of the rudest people you have ever met. Sharp and stern, K is surprisingly perceptive, and they use it to really see you. The good, the bad. Everything. Appearance: icy blue eyes, dark red hair, very pale skin.

Alexis 'Lex / Lexie' Conlan

Your best friend, and also your former partner from times when you were just a patrol officer. With a heart of gold and an approachable attitude, L always chooses you over the others. Appearance: forest green eyes, copper hair, beige freckled skin.

Morgan Schoivell

Your other colleague, a highly-skilled lab technician. M is rather reserved when it comes to emotions, and after almost a year of working together, M is still a walking mystery for you. Appearance: dark brown eyes, ash blonde hair, light skin.

Roderick / Rebecca Reyes

The commanding agent of the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) team sent to catch the killer. Overbearing and ruthless, R has their own way of getting things done. Appearance: gray eyes, blonde hair, pale skin.

Theodore 'Theo' / Theresa 'Tess' Vazquez

Another member of the CID team. With a cocky smile, T is full of flirts and sneering comments, regardless of the occasion. T has no doubts about what they want and isn't afraid to vocalize it. Appearance: dark green eyes, black curly hair, rich brown skin.

Isaac / Iris Brailsford

I looks the most mature and approachable of CID's fellow agents. Looks can be deceiving, though. Working behind the scene and watching from afar, I carries all the scars within. Appearance: hazel eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin.

Sebastian / Selena Goldstein

Someone new and temporary, S has a velvety voice and a perfect smile that doesn't reach their eyes. You're not sure if your paths will cross in the future, but something tells you S can't be trusted. Appearance: black eyes, long black wavy hair, bronze skin.

Other notable characters:

Your twin-sister: Your sweet, kind, caring, and gentle twin sister. She always tries to be there for you, and show how much she appreciates you, no matter what. Chief of Police, Kendrick Nash: Your boss, who is not handling his job so well after the recent death of his husband, Klemens Bergmann. Detective Klemens Bergmann: Police chief's husband, who happened to be a senior detective and your mentor. He was the first victim, murdered under mysterious circumstances.

A full list of warnings is available in the demo before beginning of the story. I recommend to check it before you proceed to reading. Please take care of yourself.

Thank you for your interest ♥

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #choicescript #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #if: intro #if: wip #romance #supernatural #dark fantasy #modern fantasy #mystery #cyoa #if intro #if wip #ss about

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httpsserene · 3 months

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Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆��𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

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Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

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#serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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kentstoji · 25 days

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new era! bi-han, who only used you for the advantages and benefits that a relationship could bring. power, renown and influence. from his perspective, you were merely another pawn on a board in a game between mortals and gods.

a lovely and manipulable pawn. still a pawn. irrelevant in many ways.

one of the biggest obstacles in your relationship has always been his indifference. sometimes you wonder why he started a romantic relationship, only to be negligent and cold. were you the problem?

at first, you tried to avoid thinking that way. tomas, the grandmaster's younger brother said you were perfect! but to be honest, tomas was the human definition of the word: sympathy. (he was a trained killer).

but over time, avoiding the inevitable train of thought became impossible. and when a creature, elegant and sensual, appeared in bi-han's life, it was clear to you that there was something wrong in this relationship.

(and judging by the disdain that was permanently planted on kuai liang's face, you weren't the one to blame).

her name was sareena, she was a demon and you couldn't hate her. she was beautiful, in every way. (magnetic. extraordinary).

even when you witnessed intimate moments that you begged to have with him, everything was so natural. knowing glances, gentle touches in moments when they thought no one was looking — and everyone was, waiting for something. a break in the trust of vows he made to you.

the imposing figure of the grand master was seen with a new companion at his side. it was her. the third participant in your relationship, but she was treated with respect and dedication.

you were the other, apparently. even in his actions, this was reflected. the vows of loyalty and love were just empty words.

there came a time when you got tired of living like this, tired of the neglect or constant silence.

and it was during this period that the invasions began, and other titans began to explore the timeline that liu kang conceived. and among them, there were three immortal variants of bi-han who began to stalk you, fascinated by you...

#game:. mortal kombat #self indulgence hc.#gn!reader #bi-han x reader #subzero x reader #mortal kombat incorrect quotes #mortal kombat x reader #yandere mortal kombat #yandere subzero #yandere bi-han #yandere bi han #ch:. bi-han #new era!bi han

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justaaveragereader · 11 months

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Slashtober🔪||American Psycho

Pairing: Mingi x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Dom!Mingi, Manhandling, Cum Eating, Choking, Rough Sex, Squirting, Name Calling, Oral, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Fingering, Belt Use As A Restraint, Mingi Has A God Complex🤪, Unprotected Sex (Don’t Do It!), If I Missed Anything…👀👀Let Me Know…

A/N: I’m still blind asf, but hopefully I get my glasses this weekend, so you already know the drill, sorry for the spelling errors😬

Slashtober Masterlist

The third resident to arrive was Song Mingi, the man was one of the biggest neighbors, falling right behind Jeong Yunho. Mingi was one of the quiet ones from the bunch. Everyone looked at him when he walked by, he was sculpted like a God, thighs that could crush a melon, and hands that look like they could palm a basketball. You didn’t speak with Mingi much due to his day job, he was a hardcore businessman, you always saw him coming or going with his briefcase, with that tie that made you just wanna give it a tug while he was in between your…

He was quite friendly, you had only spoken a couple of times, the main time being when you went to go and greet him. Typical things welcome him to the neighborhood, see if he was in a relationship, see what he did as a profession. You know the typical nosey neighbor things.

“You should try talking to him!” Your best friend said through your FaceTime call. Trying to hype you up to go and talk to Mingi, you always viewed yourself as the neighborhood ambassador but were too frightened at him rejecting your offer. What was the offer? Nothing, besides being a friendly neighbor. You had often seen Mingi leaving his house late at night in a plastic like coat, you had assumed he took up some art courses with Hongjoong faulting him to always being wrapped in the plastic. You always were curious as to what the businessman Song Mingi did in his spare time, wanting to take a peek and be nosey, you had seen him pulling out of his driveway. Ending the call in a hurry you make way towards his house, it was well past 10pm. Assuming Mingi had more work at his office, you skipped over to his house, little did you know someone had been watching you make way towards his home, notifying Mingi of the soon to be intrusion of privacy.

As you shimmied your way into his backyard, you found that his back patio doors were unlocked, trying your best to fight with your morals. This was supposed to be a quick peek to learn about your quiet neighbor. Not a full on break in, your brain out weighed your heart, resulting in you cracking open the sliding glass doors, taking a quick peek inside. His house looks like it’s untouched. Everything is perfect the way it is, it almost looks like a doll house, everything was angled a certain way, everything was eerily perfect. Curiosity gets the best of you, resulting in you stepping into his home, you hear the plastic crinkle immediately, looking down at the floor you notice all the floors are covered in a thick layer of plastic tarp. Curiosity blinding your mind you fail to see the large man quietly waltzing into his own home, he’s as silent as a mouse. A deadly grin has taken over his face, he’s found a new plaything in his yard. Stalking towards you like you are the prey he’s been waiting for. You are so enamored in his collection of figurines, but it’s a glass plaque that catches your attention, your fingers run over the plaque lightly.

“The wolf has eyes for prey, the cow has eyes for hay, one is the killer, the other is buffet.”

Not getting a full moment to process the quote when you hear a slight shift, your instincts kicking in almost immediately. Swinging the ax you duck just in time, the head of it wedges in the doorframe, wood pieces flying around your crouched body. Throwing your hands up over your head, you quickly try to scramble away, knees hitting the floor with a thud. Scrambling on the wooden planks, your chest is heavy with fear when his large hand clasps around your ankle, pulling you back towards him like you are a weightless object. How strong was this man?!

The crinkle of his plastic coat falls upon your deaf ears, too worried with trying to get away, you try your best to kick his hands, refusing to make a sound, not wanting to give away that your ‘nice, friendly, non nosey’ neighbor cover basically had been blown away. He swings the ax again, caking itself right in between the plastic covered wooden floor boards right by your head. Your whole body freezes, your fight or flight falls suddenly, your body carelessly being dragged through his home. Pulling the ax out of the floor, he holds the dull blade to the back of your neck. The cool metal causes your body to shiver. Adrenaline courses through your veins, while you are in the most compromising position you can’t help but think, what if his large hands ran down your legs up to cup your ass, what if he threw you against the wall and bit all over you? Leaving his mark for others to see?

“What are you doing in my home?” His timber voice riddles your body with goosebumps, with a voice like that you want to fly out of your clothes and let him all over your body. It didn’t matter that he could literally lift his arm and swing your head off with the ax, your mind was clouded with Song Mingi.

“I-I’m sor-sorry.” You try to get through as clearly as possible, failing miserably. Gripping the ax a bit tighter he tells you to roll over onto your back so he can see exactly who it is, even though he already knows who it is. Nodding your head, you slowly roll over, you are caged in between his legs, while his menacing eyes stare down at you like you are nothing less than what’s on the bottom of his shoe. His eyes sparkle with mischief.

“My, my, my, what do we have here.” He says with a gleeful voice yet a smile never reaches his face which was odd as you heard him use that tone of voice numerous times, it was always with a smile plastered on his sculpted face.

“Mingi I swear, I jus-.” Cutting your own sentence mid way as he squats down, his thighs brushing over your own legs. His intimidating gaze burns holes all over your face, you can feel the sweat start to bead around your neck line not wanting to poke the bear more then you should you shut up, opting to just look at him through your lashes. While fear pumped through your veins, lust did too. It was hard not to feel such things when you had a big man hovering over your body. Pulling the ax out of the floor again, with each movement his clear plastic coat crinkles, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes fly over every single one of his features, his sharp nose, his plush lips, his enticing eyes, the man looked like a God.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper out, he pushes the dull blade of the ax under your chin, your eyes drifting back onto his own, while it is hard to see due to the darkness in the room you can feel the energy shift. Rubbing your thighs together, your hands tighten into fists. Letting out a tsk noise like he’s disappointed in what he’s found. He stands up, the ax blade still sitting under your chin, the cool blade digs slightly into your skin. Your life laid in his big, deadly, strong hands.

“You know usually I take their lives after I’ve been seen, but you… I might just keep around.” He whispers out, eyes glazed over stilling in his motions, his voice feels like velvet is rubbing in your ears. Your eyes flutter with every word he speaks, it’s hard for your brain to process you are in potential danger. Yet the way his scent evades your senses, along with his smooth, deep voice that fills your ears, and flies around like small butterflies scattering in your brain you are drunk on this man and you haven’t even had a taste of him.

“Stand up baby girl.” Your body shivers at the nickname he’s picked out for you, stepping back slightly so you have room to stand as your figure rises. You stand on your feet, plastic crinkling beneath you, he wedges the ax back into the floorboard, the plastic cushioning around the dull blade. Walking around you like he’s stalking his dinner, he’s playing with you, getting you on edge for what’s to come.

“What should I do with you..?” He whispers in that deep voice you’ve become drunk, even obsessed with, if sex had a voice it would belong to Song Mingis vocal chords. He pauses behind your shaking body, you can feel his presence loom behind you, an energy so strong it makes your whole body sweat, the back porch door is still cracked open you feel the autumn breeze blow in, yet the heat he’s creating between the both of you is suffocating.

You hear him step closer to you, you can feel him step closer to you. His large hand settles on your hip, jerking your body back against his firm chest. You immediately feel his hard cock straining behind the plastic coat, tucked away beautifully in his work slacks. You let out a small whimper, your sticky skin sticks to the plastic coat. A small chuckle leaves him, lowering himself so he is right next to your ear.

“Is your body shivering with need? Or is it shivering because you’ve been caught?” Your brain immediately turns into soup, you are positive you can feel it slosh around in your skull. Gripping your hip he walks you toward the glass sliding doors, turning you around he shoves your back against them, towering over you with ease. You let out an accidental moan, letting out a mocking chuckle, he lowers himself to his knees. The Song Mingi is kneeling right before you, staring at you with an undetectable glint in his eyes, something you've never ever seen before. His sharp nose brushes against the front of your cunt, inhaling the scent deeply. Letting out a quiet groan, he rolls his neck, eyes fluttering back before gripping your pants, tugging them down to your ankles. Your body moves like it’s on autopilot, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder so he has better access to you.

“I’m starting to think you only came in here to get fucked.” He grunts out, running two fingers through your wet folds, staring at your bare pussy in amazement at how wet it is. As his fingers continue through your folds you let out a loud moan, tossing your head back on the glass. When it dawns on you that if anyone were to sit in their own backyard they’d have a front view as to what Mingi was doing to you. Trying to bring your leg down from his shoulder, he lets out a small chuckle, gripping your other leg and tossing it over his shoulder. He stands to his full height, your body being supported by his large shoulders, you are suspended in mid hair, back firmly pressed against the cool glass.

“Wait Min-Oh my God!” You semi yell out, he dives tongue first into your cunt, wrapping his tongue around your clit giving it a good suck, before letting his tongue explore all through your folds. His large hands come up to grip your hips, pinning you against the cool glass. The way you are moaning and shouting it is definitely echoing throughout the quiet home, and the backyard of his house. Your moans sound like a beautiful symphony to him. He's practically making out with your pussy, he’s precise with each suck on your clit, switching back and forth between sticking his long, warm tongue deep in your hole, while flicking it back to wrap around your clit and give it a good strong suck, flickering his tongue across it from time to time. He was eating you out like he truly was a starved man. Gripping your hips tighter, he lets a hand wander, gripping your throat tightly, immediately snatching the air from your lungs. He squeezes just enough where your oxygen barely gets cut off, sending you into a immediate orgasm, your body jerks, your hand wraps around his wrist, letting out a laugh that vibrates off of your clit your orgasm rips from your core, pussy squirting juices out directly onto Mingis face, and in his mouth. You are sure he has streaks of your orgasm dripping down his plastic coat leaving reminders on it that he brought you to that tipping point. Your hand grips his wrist even tighter than before.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl, you can give me more than that.” He grunts into your cunt, diving back in with his tongue, taking one hand away from your hip, pinning you with his hand that was choking you, he rubs two of his fingers over your sensitive clit, before tapping it firmly, sticking his fingers into your clenching hole, his long fingers immediately brushing your spongy spot. You let out a small yelp, tears begin to form in your eyes at the feeling. You are high on him, you want to drink him in and never let him wander away from you. You drag your eyes down to get a good look at him, he looks like a wolf slurping down his dinner, he truly did remind you of a wolf in sheep’s clothing at this moment. His eyes screamed predator, yet the way his warm tongue was fucking your pulsing cunt you could care less. Your hand finds home in his jet black hair. Your breathing ragged, his fingers continue to make home in your warm, velvety walls. He can feel your walls pulsate around him.

“Is my princess going to cum again?” He says mockingly through a fake coo. You can feel him grin into your cunt. You whine and plead for him to keep going. Pulling away from your wet cunt he makes you look him deep in his eyes, while he pops two fingers into his mouth. Letting out a hum of approval. He moves back slightly watching your body slide down the glass slowly. Your shirt rises up as you descend. His hands still planted firmly on your hips making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you come down. As soon as your feet are planted against the plastic covering on the floor, he immediately grabs you, pulling you towards the living room, lifting the blinds, the moonlight shines off of your post orgasm body. Ripping your shirt off of your sweat coated body. Shimmying his way out of the plastic coat, work clothes out on display, you see him through the reflection undo the first couple of buttons on his shirt, along with sliding his belt off of his waist.

He shoves you against the glass, placing your body on display for the whole neighborhood, any and everyone could walk by and see you both. Your naked chest is pressed firmly against the cool glass of his living room windows, not even caring if anyone sees you. Your warm breath is causing the glass to fog up. He's still for a brief moment, his thick cock slowly enters your wet walls. Letting out a small whimper you shift your hips slightly letting out a loud moan, the plastic beneath your feet is practically glued to you from the amount of sweat that is pouring off of you. Bending you further than you ever thought you could go, he wraps your wrists together with his belt, letting your body fully rest on the glass. Your nipples instantly pebble at the cool contact, your face is squished against it. Moving his hips slowly, he suddenly slams up into you, balls slapping your clit causing your body to shift even more into the glass. Your hands come up bracing yourself for his brutal pace that has your body shifting up with each movement. Gripping your bounded wrists, he uses this as leverage, slamming your body back down with each thrust.

“Min-Mingi!” You choke out through a gasp, he was fucking you senselessly. If he had been playing a game he’d be hitting every killer combo on your body. Letting out a quiet grunt, his large body towers over your frame, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat while the other makes home on your hips.

“Say my name baby, say my fucking name.” He grits out through his signature business smile, the constant chant of his name falling from your wet lips was how it must feel for a God to be worshiped, he felt like he was on top of the world. His hips slightly slow, going even deeper than before, his hand starts to squeeze on your neck, while the other hand falls to strum on your clit like it’s a harp, it’s going to play the most beautiful tune known to mankind. Your toes clench so hard they get wrapped up into the plastic.

“Oh my Godddd!” You moan out, with each thrust back your body slacks against his hips, with every drive forward your body presses harder against the glass. Out of your peripheral vision you see a light flicker on, going to turn your head towards the light shining from the house across the street, his grip on your neck tightens, bringing you to his chest, breast on display for everyone in the neighborhood to see if they wanted to.

“Ah, ah, ah, who's got your attention baby, me or the outside world?” His hot breath heavy on your ear, the groans he’s letting out mixing with the slapping of his wet balls on your ass is making your whole body burn from the inside out, his movements on your clit get faster, causing your eyes to flutter.

“Answer me baby, next time I won’t be so nice in asking you.” He grits out, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck, marking you for the world to see, he needed a stamp on you that he was the one bringing you such pleasure. Giving your neck a tighter squeeze, his thumb on your clit rubbing rapid circles, the way he’s cutting off your oxygen, your wrist bound behind your back, makes your whole body tingle. Trying to warn Mingi of your orgasm that’s approaching it’s almost like he reads your mind, pulling out of you, your arousal drips down your leg, letting out a unsatisfied groan you glance back at Mingi who opens the front door to his home. Grabbing you along with him, the cool air hits your naked body causing you to liter with a whole new set of goosebumps. Bending you over the small balcony he slams back into you, continuing his rapid pace, one hand wrapping around your throat again, stretching your body up to his chest, while his other large hand wraps around your throat. He wants you to feel every bit of him, he wants you to feel him in your stomach, he wants to be so deep that his cock aids with the hand wrapped around your throat that is snatching your breathe away.

“There are so many people in this neighborhood, and their eyes could be on you right now, you know that?” He grits in your ear, his own orgasm approaching. Choking you tighter, your body is being fueled with so many emotions the thought of multiple people on the block seeing your bare body out in the open being fucked by Mingi fueled more desires in your body than you thought. Biting your lip to hold back your moan, you try your best to look up at him with his grip on your neck.

“When are you going to drop that nice act and let everyone see the real you? The real you that loves to get bent over and fucked like the dumb slut she is hm?” His grip gets a bit tighter, your hips fly back with each thrust up, slamming back down on his thick cock, you are so lost in Mingi, you don’t notice the other lights that flicker on within the neighborhood.

“When are you going to finally admit that you are sick in the head just like the rest of us?” He grunts into your ear nipping the lobe, his sentence sparks a whole new fire in you, before you could say anything your mouth opens in a big O, you feel your orgasm spray out of you, soaking your legs, soaking Mingis legs, cock, and balls. Your orgasm was so hard it bullied Mingis thick cock out of your cunt. Threw choked out gasps, you barely can make a sentence you’ve never felt something so powerful before. Your nails dig into your palm, while your upper body hangs off of the balcony trying to stabilize yourself. His hand tightens, aiding in it dragging out its orgasm, still keeping the same smooth moments on your clit, with his hand soaked he doesn’t move an inch. Your cum puddles in the palm of his hand. Fueling his cocky Godly ego more than you’ll ever know. Thick cock hanging while you continue to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. You finally come to, body completely depending on the cool metal of the balcony to hold you up, his hold still tight, and possessive on your neck, he holds you like he owns you, like you are his, and his only. You know his fingers are clearly leaving thick finger bruises on the soft skin. Snatching your body back into the house, he presses you up against the glass door once more, catching a glimpse of his reflection, you both lock eyes with one another, you watch him slurp down the juices that puddled in his hand. He looked like a true mad man, his eyes were blown, his body big with energy, while his shiny ax gleamed while still being wedged in the plastic coated floor boards. You knew just with that look he had been the death to many before you.

You watched as Mingi dressed in his casual button up shirt, placing his glasses back on, slicking his hair back before grabbing his briefcase. It was like clockwork with Mingi. You knew his whole routine by heart now, wanting to greet him everyday before he pulled out of his driveway, you ran down to your front door, tossing it open with a thud while he stepped foot onto the pavement, you both had seen another moving truck pull up. A smile cracking on his face as soon as he seen the man who had stepped out of the truck, with a mole under his eye, and the laugh unlike another, your smile slipped slightly, eyes growing wide at the man who was now greeting you instead of you greeting him, your new neighbor Jung Wooyoung.

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#slashtober 2023 #slasher!ateez #Ateez smut #dom!ateez #ateez fanfic #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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smileysuh · 2 years

Text

audio

🌙 staring. Hoshi x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. When you’d first started dating, you’d hardly been able to take one of his fingers without moaning like a whore in his ear. You’ve come a long way with your size training, but you definitely still need some good foreplay- when Soonyoung’s home, he has a thing for helping you squirt. It gets you all nice and perfectly lubed up for him, so easy to slip into- but while he’s on tour, you can never get yourself there, so he’s accustomed to audios of slow build-ups and lots of moaning

cw/tw. nsfw audio/ramblefap, use of toys, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, a little cumplay, mentions of edging, dirty boy Soonyoung, I petnames. (his) tiger boy, baby, soonyoung

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k

🍭 aus. established relationship au, tour!svt/long distance, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. we all need a boyfriend as obsessed as he is

“Your boyfriend is a menace.”

“Nice to hear your voice too, Seungkwan,” you laugh, stretching out on your couch to work your muscles after a long nap. “What did he do this time? How’s tour?”

“You know the audios you send him while we’re away?”

“Uh,” you tense up, “yeah, of course I know the audios I send him while you’re all away, how do you know about the audios?”

“Because your menace boyfriend was listening to one in the gym today.”

“Like- out loud?!”

“No, but I stole his headphones briefly and-”

“Well that sounds like something that’s your own fault, now doesn’t it, Seungkwan? You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.”

“I’m going to kill the cat, and by cat, I mean your tiger-loving boyfriend.”

“Wait- but how was he working out to it without popping a boner?”

“That’s a very good question- one I did not stop to ask.”

“Yeah,” you let out a laugh, “what were you doing in the gym anyways?”

“I hate you, and your stupidly horny boyfriend.”

Being on tour can be rough for a tiger boy like Soonyoung. Sure, he’s doing what he loves, performing, but he’s also… not doing what he loves (you).

It’s especially hard for him when he’s in a country with an opposite time schedule to your own. Eleven-hour differences are a killer, but at least he has a whole album of pictures of you, and you’ve even taken to sending him audios every now and then.

They’re the type of audios that his members would identify as ‘porn,’ but to Soonyoung, they’re glorious ramblefaps that remind him of what he’s missing- as if he can’t remind himself enough already.

Days where he wakes up to new scandalous messages from you are some of his favourites, and when he checks his phone to find one waiting on his third day in LA - his second audio since arriving in the city - he’s downright ecstatic.

He listens to the whole thing, in full, while slowly waking up. Soonyoung notes the ups and downs of the audio, the way you pick up your pace and slow down to edge yourself, and he quickly solidifies it in his memory.

Soonyoung is many things; he has a high resilience, an incessant need to prove himself in all areas. Even so, he needs to hear your ramblefaps alone before taking the sound with him to the gym. It’s the only way he’s able to keep a boner in check; if he busts one out first, then goes to work out, and finishes the audio in a bathroom or the closest deserted location.

Luckily for Soonyoung, his band has booked a whole LA property to share for the week they’re in the city, and the on-site gym has given him the privacy needed to already complete one workout listening to your sweet moans without too much hassle.

Sure, Seungkwan had found him out, but Soonyoung really hadn’t tried that hard to hide what he was up to.

He loves you, and he doesn’t care who in his group knows it.

The audio you’ve sent is a little different than usual, and Soonyoung saunters into the gym with a grin on his face, ready to be equal parts amused by your humourous banter and turned on by your sounds.

“Shit.” It’s not the welcome he’d expected from Woozi, who stops spotting Dino to watch Soonyoung choosing dumbbells.

Dino also pauses his workout, sitting up, eyes following the self-proclaimed tiger.

“What are you guys looking at?” Soonyoung asks, taking a seat to begin arm curls.

“We heard you have a new playlist you listen to while working out,” Woozi says, deadpan. “And I want to remind you that Dino is very young-”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” Dino insists, but his unsure gaze returns to Soonyoung. “You’re not really listening to audios of your girlfriend, are you?”

“If it makes you feel better,” Soonyoung sighs, “I won’t listen to them until after you’re gone.”

Woozi grimaces. “That’s really not much better.”

Soonyoung shrugs. “So I’ll listen to them now.”

“Aish-” Woozi groans, shaking his head. “We were just finishing up.”

“I want to stay a little longer,” Dino argues.

“No, you don’t” Woozi insists, grabbing the younger man’s arm to pull him to his feet. “How long is the audio this time? I’ll tell Jun and Joshie to wait a little before coming down here.”

Soonyoung’s surprised at Woozi’s offer, it’s almost nice. “Tell them to wait like, fifteen minutes?” he suggests. “Actually- maybe more like twenty.”

“You’re gross,” Woozi mutters as he drags Dino from the small gym.

Soonyoung’s already begun his workout with a few laughs, and he can anticipate the chuckles to come as he hits play on your audio and your cute little voice fills his headphones.

“Hey you-” he loves the way you still sound so shy at the start of these things. “So… a little birdie told me the cat’s out of the bag with this whole audio thing. And by a little birdie, I think we both know I mean Seungkwan.”

Soonyoung grins to himself, continuing his bicep curls with little care to the number of reps. He’s busy getting lost in your voice.

“I should have-” you sigh, and Soonyoung wonders for the second time if you’ve already started touching yourself. It’s hard to tell sometimes, you’re good at long rambles. “I should have known it would be hard for you to keep a secret- listening to me at the gym? What a dirty boy you are.”

Of course he is, always the dirtiest boy, only for you.

“How’s that exhibition kink coming?”

His grin widens.

“I uh-” it sounds like the phone shifts, there’s a rustle of fabric, and Soonyoung closes his eyes to imagine you lying in bed, “I missed you.”

He misses you too, like you wouldn’t believe.

“It must be like- God, I don’t even know what time it is for you. I can’t keep up with all these changing places, changing times- but I do know that you’re asleep, or at least, you should be, if you know what’s good for you.”

There’s been once or twice where you’ve sent audios and he’s been awake- in instances like those, he skips the recording and calls you, eager to hear you in your post-orgasm bliss… and see if he can convince you to do a live show for him.

“I like the idea of you waking up to this today,” you continue, “going to the gym- being a menace. Are you in the gym, tiger boy? You probably are- I miss your pretty body. Miss the way you feel- miss touching you. Do you miss touching me?”

Fuck yeah he does.

“Sometimes, when I get like this- I think about the fact that you left me with a toy smaller than you, and I get mad- but then I remember that you like to torture me with stuff like this. It takes longer to cum with a smaller toy- it doesn’t reach the spots you do… does it make for good, long audios? I bet you love knowing that I’m never truly satisfied- gives me something to look forward to when you come home.”

You know him much too well.

“I guess I always have my vibe though… can you hear it?”

The phone shifts again, and a buzzing sound fills Soonyoung’s senses.

“Can you hear how wet I already am?”

He can definitely hear you rubbing your pretty pussy along the toy, and he can see a perfect image of you in his mind’s eye.

“The thought of you working out and listening to this-” you swallow thickly, “you’re gonna have to send me some pictures- you can do that, right, Soonyoung? For me?”

Today, he’ll probably send you more than a few pictures.

“Fuck-” you whimper, and the sound of you grinding down on your vibe increases. Soonyoung turns up his volume, basking in it. “Feels so good- I think I’m almost ready for the other toy- almost wet enough-”

When you’d first started dating, you’d hardly been able to take one of his fingers without moaning like a whore in his ear. You’ve come a long way with your size training, but you definitely still need some good foreplay- when Soonyoung’s home, he has a thing for helping you squirt. It gets you all nice and perfectly lubed up for him, so easy to slip into- but while he’s on tour, you can never get yourself there, so he’s accustomed to audios of slow build ups and lots of moaning.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you confess. “Saw your instagram pictures- surfing? You really know how to make a girl needy- wet suit pulled down to show off your chest- fuck. Such a pretty, pretty boy-”

Soonyoung’s pride swells in his chest, and he moves to the shoulder press machine.

For a few seconds, you don’t say anything, but your whimpers are music to his ears, and so are the sounds of the vibrator being rubbed along your wet pussy.

“Wish this was your tongue- miss your mouth, and your fingers- you reach spots I never could.”

“You and your small hands,” Soonyoung breathes to himself, shaking his head a little. He thinks you’re one of the most adorable people in the world.

“Don’t- don’t make fun of me,” you say next, as if reading his mind, “we both- we both know you like my small hands. Like the way they look wrapped around your cock- fuck! Miss it so bad- do you miss my hands the way I miss yours?”

More than you’ll ever know.

Soonyoung clenches his teeth, opening his eyes to watch himself in the mirror. His biceps bulge with each push. It helps him calm down and ground himself for a moment- he can feel the way his body is beginning to get a little too excited.

He needs to pace himself. You’re still a ways off from cumming, and Soonyoung likes to follow you through your audio.

“Okay, okay-” you take a deep breath, “I’m gonna grab my other toy now, think I’m ready-”

Soonyoung continues listening, waiting patiently while you shift on your bed.

“Now I just have to… slip this in- shit, Soonie- That’s just the head, I think I can get a little more-”

His pretty kitten, biting off more than you can chew.

Your whimpers fill his brain, and he can hear the toy shifting in and out of your core, can hear the slight squeak of your bed as you begin to rock your hips-

“Okay, yeah- just, mmmfph- just a little more- fuck, wish this was you, wish this was you so fucking bad-” you take a shaky breath, “okay, it’s in-”

He can imagine your toes curling, head thrown back, eyes closed- you’re always such a vision for him.

“Fuck-” your voice is as airy as ever, he loves it when you get like this, “it’s so big- not as big as you, but still- I haven’t- mmmfph- I haven’t been using it much- fuck, feels so full-”

The sound of your bed rocking returns, and then the vibrator-

“Oh my god- fuck- feels so good today, I can’t- god, I miss you-” it sounds like you’re close to tears, and again, Soonyoung feels blood beginning to rush to his cock.

He opens his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to focus on calming down, but it’s hard when he has you moaning “wish you were here, wish you were here fucking me-” in his ear.

“Maybe- maybe I need to slow down- I’m gonna cum too fast,” you let out a small laugh, “I’ll try to hold off to the fifteen-minute mark- to give you at least part of a workout now that I know you listen to these in the gym-”

You’re so considerate of him. He hears the vibrations go down a notch, and you slow on your bed rocking too.

“There- I’ll just go slow and deep- like you fuck me- like you tease me when I get close and you’re not ready for it yet- you love edging me.”

He does.

“Fuck- my legs are shaking-” so are his arms.

You begin to moan again, rambling subsiding in favour of uncensored sounds of pleasure, and Soonyoung takes the opportunity to move to the leg press machine.

“Hope you’re- hope you’re having a good workout, baby.”

He loves it when you call him baby- loves all the pretty pet names you give him.

“Fuck- this stupid toy really doesn’t hit the spots you do-” you groan again, fucking yourself harder-

The sound of the silicon base hitting your wet pussy is enough to have Soonyoung nearly moaning-

He misses your pretty cunt- misses the way you taste, the way you get so wet for him. You’re always so responsive, and it’s one of the many things he loves about you.

“Want your cock-” you whimper. “Please, fuck- Soonyoung-”

The hair on the back of his neck raises with interest, he always begins to go feral when you call him by his full name.

“Soonyoung-” you moan again, the vibrations going a notch louder. “Fuck- I’m so wet- fuck- need you so bad- oh my god-”

You’re close to cumming, and Soonyoung can’t even fault you for getting to the edge this fast.

Standing from the workout machine, he quickly heads to the small bathroom next to the gym, closing the door and locking it.

You’ve been whimpering in his ear the whole time, and as soon as Soonyoung is shut into the privacy of the bathroom, he allows himself to focus on the blood rushing to his cock.

“Shit-” he mutters, lifting his shirt to expose his abdomen, catching the fabric in between his teeth to hold it there before reaching a hand into his sweatpants to pull out his hard, aching length.

He’s already practically dripping in precum from edging himself throughout your whole audio, and he smooths it over his skin for lubrication-

“I’m gonna- fuck, Soonyoung, I’m gonna cum soon- can I cum? Please- I wanna cum- want you to cum- miss your cum-”

His little cum slut, god, he loves you so much-

“Wanna be filled so bad-” you continue to whine, voice getting pitchier. “This toy isn’t enough- fuck- it’s not enough- I’m so close-”

You let out a strangled sound as the vibrations go up one final notch, the highest setting.

“Shit- shit- please- I know you’re at the gym, but please- want you to cum with me- you’ll cum with me, right?”

This is why he pre-vets your audios- if he’d been hit with this unexpectedly, he’d have fully busted a nut on the leg press machine.

“Fuck- ok, I’m almost there, I’m almost there- fuck- shit, shit, shit-” you let out something between a squeal and a gasp, and it has Soonyoung’s entire body tingling- he teeters on the edge with you, abdomen clenching with tension- “I’m cumming- Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung- oh my god- oh my god-”

He’ll be damned if there’s ever a time when hearing you cum doesn’t immediately set him off as well.

Soonyoung throws his head back, biting down on his shirt while he falls over the edge, coating his own chest and abdomen in rope upon rope of cum while your sounds fill his ears and drive him wild.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you continue to whimper and whine as you both ride out your orgasms, and then you let out a loud gasp, the vibrations coming to an abrupt halt.

He listens to your shaky breaths as his hand slowly comes to a stop on his cock.

After a beat of silence, your voice comes back, a teasing tone returning; “Did you cum with me, baby?” You give him the space to respond, and, knowing you can’t hear him anyways, Soonyoung simply nods, still trying to calm the rapid racing of his heart. “I’d like to imagine you came too- at least,” you sigh, “I hope you did.”

He can’t help but smile.

“Sorry it was kind of short- like I said, I’ve been needy all day.” You swallow thickly, taking another deep breath. “I just miss you… a lot”

A few moments of comfortable quiet allow you both to continue catching your breaths.

“I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to sleep now- but, I’ll send you a text when I wake up. Like I said earlier… send me some pics… please.” You release a small laugh. “Okay, goodnight Soonyoung, love you. Enjoy your workout.”

He’s done with his work out though. He’d been thinking he might be able to return to it earlier, but after cumming as hard as he just did- there’s no way he can go back to the machines.

Soonyoung is quick to snap a few pictures of his abs, covered in cum, shirt still captured between his teeth- he knows these will make you as feral as you make him, something for you to wake up to.

Then, he grabs a wet paper towel, cleaning himself, and thinking of all the ways he can really return the favour.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I kind of enjoy how phone call/audio things allow more dialogue and ramblefam type writing :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “I haven’t touched myself yet- wanted to wait till I was recording, but fuck- listening to you cum while I was at the gym earlier was so hot-” he takes a shaky breath. “Okay, now I’m touching myself… wanna see?”

cw/ tw. nsfw audio/ramblefap, use of toys, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, a little cumplay, I petnames. (hers) baby, princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.9k I teaser wc. 240

🌙 staring. soonyoung x afab!Reader

bonus

You’re half asleep when you reach for your phone, latching onto the device and rolling onto your back to burrow under your duvet again. There are multiple notifications from Soonyoung, and you click on one absentmindedly, still blinking away the last inklings of hazy sleepiness.

The picture that immediately pops up and fills your screen nearly makes you choke, and you sit up, rubbing your eyes before focusing on the image of Soonyoung.

It’s a mirror selfie, his shirt caught between his teeth, washboard abs on show- and his body is dripping with cum.

You zoom in with your fingers, licking your lips as you assess the photo- as you assess your boyfriend, in all his glory.

He’s got the cutest little smirk, even with his shirt partially obscuring his mouth, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye- you’re reminded why you love the charming gemini all over again.

The next picture is a selfie without use of the mirror, and only half of Soonyoung’s face is in it. He’s holding the camera at an angle, showing off the teeth biting into fabric and a perfect shot of his chiseled torso.

You’re wide awake now, sitting up in bed, sleeping shorts getting wetter by the second.

There’s more than just images, you realize, as you exit the picture to send a message to your boyfriend. There are videos too. A few of them- and your heart flip flops in your chest.

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@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa - @just-here-to-read-01 - @shiningnono

svt taglist:

@romromthedeer - @strawbwebbie - @rebeccasficrecs

@alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @greysdarling

@joonsneptune - @jedi-nightingale - @candidupped - @cheolussy

@yourfavoritefreakyhan - @asjkdk

and thanks to those who interacted with the teaser :)

@shmooooo - @ctzenjohnnyreads - @crushonwoo

@nathastagram - @haven-cove - @multislut - @lydinews

#hoshi #soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #svt #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen #kpop #kwon hoshi #kwon hoshi smut #hoshi x reader #soonyoung smut

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chaoticace2005 · 7 months

Text

I, Sir Pentious’s, List of Things to Build:

1. Matching PJs for the Eggies

2. Warmachine that will DESTROY the Radio Demon and get the attention of the Vees!

3. New warmachine after RADIO DEMON!!! broke the last one (Include updated death ray??)

4. Parachute built into hat

5. Advanced technology to spy on the hotel to impress Vox An “I’m sorry cake.”

6. Nest for me and eggs

7. New coat for the radio demon?

8. Cannon to protect me from a flying cat, tall slutty spider, and a tiny… bug? Cannon to PROTECT the flying cat, tall slutty spider, tiny bug, and close female friends that share a room together.

9. Portable elevator. Stairs suck.

10. Device to prevent me from being thrown off a roof again.

11. Armor against dismembered arms. Also Niffty?

12. Gaydar? Whatever that is, I’m currently unsure.

13. Thing to kill a roomba with knives.

14. Device to open bottles for Husk

15. Quiet door opener/unlocker

16. Shield so Vagatha doesn’t stab me when I go into her room in the middle of the night.

17. Way to remove pornographic images from my brain.

18. SAFE bug killer for Niffty? So less knives

19. Way to remove Valentino from this plane of existence.

20. A safe, loving family for Charlotte.

21. Cookies for the king!!

22. Mechanical duck to get in the king’s favor!

23. Way to fix Father-Daughter relationship? (They did this themselves nevermind)

24. Protection from Radio Demon??

25. Device to get the cat and spider to talk about their feelings so I can stop third wheeling.

26. New wall? Make it indestructible.

27. Flowers Chocolates A bomb for Cherri??

28. Way to break demonic contracts for Angel (and also Husk??)

29. Hangover cure.

30. Prosthetic wings for Vagatha (nevermind she has her own sometimes? Would she want ones for when she doesn’t??)

31. Reinforcements for the building

32. Battle armor for the Eggies

33. Angel killing bullets, bombs, knives, teeth?? And cards??

34. General uniform

35. A moat

36. Poem for Cherri?

37. Angel suggested I added “the courage to actually ask Cherri out,” which I must say is sadly accurate.

38. New egg bois? Or way to resurrect the old ones??

39. Evil but still angelic clothing??

40. Way to communicate with Hell

41. Gift to show affection for Cherri and let her know I’m alive.

42. Way to show memories from Hell for Emily and Molly to see (a device may already exist??)

43. Family reunion for Angel (Anthony??) and Molly.

44. A way to get back home.

#he’s trying his best #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #sir pentious #stupid hazbin hotel lists #chaggie #huskerdust #hazbin hotel found family #cherrisnake #sir repentious #egg bois #egg boiz #molly hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel

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suw4 · 6 months

Text

Your Voice

Hinata Shoyo from Haikyuu!!

an/tw: i feel like this isn't my best work but i hope you like it anywaysssssss

Masterlist | Haikyuu!! Masterlist

part1 | part2

Shoyo came running up the stairs towards the rooftop. His boyfriend was waiting for him upstairs to eat lunch together. He was running late due to a mini receiving practice with Sugawara. Once he'd arrived, he saw the [h/c] head sitting quietly on the bench. Looking down to his unopened bento box. Shoyo smiled widely and ran up to him.

"[N/n]!!" he shouted even though the male couldn't hear him. Jumping onto the male and hugged him ever so excitedly. [Name] laughed at his highly energetic boyfriend and hugged him back. "Sorry, I'm late! Sugawara-senpai asked me to stay back for a while for practice," Shoyo signed as he spoke. "It's okay. Shall we eat?" [Name] signed back and the other nodded.

They both happily ate lunch together until Shoyo jolted up, remembering something. He looked at his lover with such determined eyes--mouth full of food. He laid the bento onto his lap and slid himself closer to the other. "I want to introduce you to my team! Is that okay?" he signed excitedly, a smile lingered on his face steadily. [Name] paused, the tip of his chopsticks in his mouth as he stared at Shoyo. He took a couple of minutes to think about it and eventually gave in to his request. He gave Shoyo a subtle nod, along with a small smile. "Why not?" he signed.

Adrenaline rushed through the shorter male's body. He hopped off the bench with his bento in his hands. "Really?! Then, I'll introduce you later during practice. Okay?!" he proposed. This time, he was jumping on the spot. [Name] chuckled, holding Shoyo's hand with his. "Calm down.." he spoke up, words slurring close together, but Shoyo was able to make it out. He retracted his hand and signed, "I can't read your lips if you speak too fast,"

"Oh, sorry!" the decoy quickly apologized by making a gesture of pinching the bridge of his nose, then opened his hand with fingers closed, and he lowered it with a slight bow. He grinned at his boyfriend before hugging the life out of him. He then continued to ramble on about what he had planned for the meet-up.

Soon enough, it was already practice time. Shoyo waited for [Name] outside his class. Bouncing on the spot as excitement filled him. Watching the taller male packing his bag with a huge smile. Once he was ready, he intertwined his hand with the other, dragging the poor boy out towards the volleyball gym.

"Sorry, I'm late!" Shoyo yelled as he slid the gym doors open. Capturing all the attention from everyone in the place. "Oh! Hinata! It's okay!" the silver head third year assured, walking towards the couple. "Who's this? Are you recruiting new members?"

"Oh, no! He can't play. This is my boyfriend, [L.Name] [Name]!" he proudly announced, squeezing the [h/c] head's hand.

The others began crowding around the couple and asking questions. Curious about their relationship and such. While they converse, Kageyama was fiercely observing the boy that Shoyo brought in. The stare was so intense that Tsukishima, who stood not far from him, thought he was planning murder. "Oi, are you going to stare at him until your eyes pop out? Or are you tragically in love with shrimp's partner?"

The setter snapped out of his gaze and glared at the other. "Shut up," he told him off, looking back at [Name]. "I was wondering why he looked familiar," he paused, recalling his memory. "Yukigaoka Junior High's number 7. A middle blocker. One of Hinata's teammates that I played against," he noted, placing his finger on his chin. Tsukishima hummed in response,not really caring much.

Suddenly, the blue haired setter felt chills down his back. He heard a snicker beside him. "Seems like he heard you over all that noise," the blonde gave him a snarky look. Kageyama looked up to see [Name] staring at him like a killer pin pointing his next target. It was a look that he was familiar with. [Name] was the same person who punched his face after the game ended with his team winning against his.

Kageyama grabbed onto the net as he leaned down to Shoyos's height. "What have you been doing for the last three years?" he taunted the shorter male. Unfortunately, [Name] had overheard him, and it prompted him to swing a hard punch towards the blue haired male's face. Yelling and screaming at him while his teammates had to hold him back.

"Who do you think you are to say that, dickhead? Damn asshole! Don't you dare question his abilities!" [Name] continued to scream while glaring at the setter who was holding his nose in great pain while getting off the floor with a couple of his teammates' help.

The middle blocker got kicked out from making such a commotion and inflicting violence on the opponent team. The competition had to be put on hold for a moment.

"Oh! [L.Name], I remember you! You were the middle blocker that played in the Junior High game last year, right?" Daichi asked him. [Name] glanced up and gave him a short nod. "That's right! You were that tall dude who was blocking Kageyama's team like a maniac!"

"Yeah!!! [N/n] was so cool!! I owe him a lot for most of the points we scored!" Shoyo began jogging on the spot, pumped up with energy. "Why isn't he playing volleyball then?" Kageyama's voice dominated over the others. Causing everyone to look at him. Dampening the lively mood that that the decoy created. [Name] nudged his boyfriend's arm, arching a brow. Wanting to know what's happening. "Kageyama wants to know why you aren't continuing playing volleyball," he signed, catching everyone off guard.

"He's deaf," Shoyo turned back to face them while signing it for his lover too. The [h/c] haired sighed softly and crossed him arms. Used to this situation. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hinata. We didn't know. No wonder you kept answering the questions," the captain apologized while bowing at them out of respect. The volleyball club followed along. [Name] read Daichi's lips and showed a smile. "It's okay," he muttered. Easing everyone's guilt. "Yep! [N/n] doesn't mind it! He's very cool!" he let out a light hearted laugh, clinging on to the said male's arm.

"Wahh.. You guys are adorable! [L.Name], why didn't you tell me you are with Hinata?!" Yachi joined in. Trying her best to communicate through whatever she had learnt so far for sign language. [Name]'s eyes widened a little. Touched that she was learning to sign. "Oh? Yachi, you know [N/n]?" Shoyo tilted his head. "Yachi is my classmate, Sho," [Name] replied for the blonde then smiled at her. He was about to sign back but he thought of how difficult it would be for her to understand. So he loosen his bag from his shoulder and took out a notebook and a pen. Writing down what he wanted to say.

"Shoyo is very passionate for volleyball so I let him practice as much as he can. I want to see him be the next Little Giant!" the female first year read out loud. Everyone else was moved by his words. Shoyo looked up at his boyfriend with trembling lips. Falling in love with him all over again. "[N/n]..." he whined.

The day continued on with practice. A singular chair was set for [Name] to sit on and watch. He was mesmerized. He didn't get to see Shoyo play for so long. There was a drastic change with his speed, his skills. Even his jump is higher. He felt chills run down his back. It was thrilling, amazing. So amazing that he was jealous. It wasn't Shoyo that he was jealous of, but his teammates. People around him. He watched the tangerine landed onto the wooden floor after making a good score with his spike. Bouncing around Kageyama. Obviously, he couldn't hear what he's rambling about but he knows that Shoyo was praising the heck out of that boy. He let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the chair.

Practice has finally ended and [Name] told his partner that he'll wait for him outside. Once he was out, Kiyoko walked up to Shoyo and gave him a light tap. Causing him to stop untying the net. "Oh Shimizu-senpai? Is there something wrong?"

"Hinata, I've noticed that [L.Name] was a little sad when he was watching the match. Is he alright?" the third year question, concerned for the male. "[N/n]..? I'm... not sure. Uh- I'LL LEAVE EARLY TODAY!" he announced loudly, rushing out the gym and straight towards the club room to change. Packing his stuff up and made his way to his boyfriend by the gym doors.

The male stood in front of the other, huffing for air. "[N/n], is something wrong?!" he signed. [Name] was startled a little and tilted his head. "Nothing's wrong? Why the sudden question?"

"Shimizu-senpai was worried about you. She told me you were sad! Did something happened?"

"Nothing happened, really. Should we go home now?" [Name] showed him a reassuring smile. Shoyo frowned a little but hesitantly nodded. The taller male gently grabbed his hand and intertwined with it. Lifting it up to kiss the back of his hand. "Don't worry too much.." he uttered. The other looked down and replied with a simple "Okay," while [Name] guided them forward.

As they walked together, the [h/c] haired couldn't help but reminiscence the moment where Shoyo was ecstatic upon scoring that goal. He could imagine the cheers he shouted. But he could not hear it. Why can't he hear it? Why can't he fucking hear it? He was supposed to remember it!

As the boy was having a breakdown in his head, his steps slowed down. Dragging down the other male too. Shoyo turned around, shocked to see his boyfriend sobbing. Alerted, he moved closer and wiped away [Name]'s tears. "What's wrong, [N/n]. Why are you crying??" he asked whilst cupping the other's face. [Name] replied with slurs of shaky words.

"I-I can't remember y-your voice,"

#x male reader #male reader #top male reader #fanfiction #fanfic #male x male #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x male reader

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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

Note

I saw this video and I feel like something like this would be fun to read! I have to ask would you ever consider writing a kidnapper!Joel fic?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Dfp6Na/

Hi Bestie!

So.... Yes :)

Not quite the vibe of the linked video but I hope you enjoy it!

Run Rabbit: Part One

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.) This will be in two parts.

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings WHOLE FIC: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 8k

PLEASE NOTE: part one does not get smutty ❤️

Part 2

November, 2004

“You can have whatever you want, please!”

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you tried to keep quiet from your place below the floorboards. Your boyfriend, Zach, had tucked you into the crawl space when he ran in from hunting with three men on his tail.

“They don’t know about you,” he’d said, breathless. “Stay quiet, I’ll get us out of this.”

But even a year into the apocalypse, Zach wasn’t a great shot. It wasn’t long before he was out matched and the men were breaking down the door to the cabin you’d been holed up in for a few days.

“Seemed awful keen to protect whatever it is you got,” one of the men said. “How do we know you’re not gonna just come and try to take it back?”

“Should just kill ‘em,” another man said. “Don’t gotta worry about it then.”

“No, no, I swear I won’t,” Zach pleaded.

“Prove it,” the final man spoke for the first time. “Got no reason to trust you now, why should we leave you alive?”

You kept your hands tight over your mouth, trying not to cry, trying to stay quiet, hoping they’d leave Zach alive.

“Because I have something better than supplies!” He yelled it, his words flowing together as he stumbled over them.

“Like?” The third man said.

“My girlfriend,” Zach panted. Your breath caught. “She was a nurse before, in an ER, she can keep you alive, you can have her, please…”

“And where is this girlfriend?” The first man said. “You seem awful alone here…”

You hoped Zach was just buying time, that he wouldn’t actually tell these animals where you were.

You were wrong.

“In the closet,” he said. “There’s a crawl space there, I told her to hide there while I took care of things here. Please, she’s worth a lot, she’s good at patching you up, she’s real pretty, you can have her, you can have her…”

The sound of his begging almost covered the thud of boots as you heard the closet door creak open and the floor over your head disappeared.

“Well, would you look at that,” a large man with shaggy curls and a patchy beard - the first one who has spoken, you thought - smirked down at you. “He’s not full of shit.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes wide. “No, please…”

The man ignored you, grabbing a fistful of fabric at your chest and hefting you up from the crawl space with a grunt. He dropped you on the ground and you tried to scramble away only to have another man grab your shoulder and throw you down. You landed on your backside, a different tall, broad man with dark curls looming over you.

“Where you think you’re running to, little rabbit?” He smirked, the second man who had spoken. You pulled yourself back from him, looking for a way out. The third man, blond and pale and the youngest of them, stood over Zach, a gun pointed at his head. He started humming Run, Rabbit, Run as he smiled at your boyfriend, glancing your way, prowling toward Zach. A predator enjoying his prey.

“So,” the first man dropped your pack that had been in the crawl space next to you at your side with a thud, making you jump. “You really a nurse?”

“She is,” Zach answered for you. “She is and you can have her, please…”

“Zach!” Tears tightened your throat.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, not looking at you. “I’m sorry, but I can’t…”

The man who pulled you from the crawl space sighed, pulling a handgun from his side, going up behind Zach and pressing the barrel to his head before pulling the trigger. Your scream hung in the air longer than the crack of the gun, the salty, metallic taste of Zach’s blood on your tongue as his body slumped to the ground.

“Hey,” the man who shot Zach dropped to one knee in front of you, grabbing your face roughly, gripping your cheeks in his large hand. There was blood on him, too. “You really think that piece of shit is worth screamin’ and cryin’ over? He was sellin’ you, girl, he ain’t worth any grief of yours.”

He released you and looked over his shoulder to the other dark haired man.

“Tommy, got something we can hold her with?” The other man - Tommy, apparently - started going through his bag. He looked toward the blond next. “Vince, gather what you can, we’re heading out in 10. Made a lot of noise here, don’t want to wait and find out what that attracts.”

“Are you going to kill me too?” You asked quietly.

The man who seemed to be in charge cocked his head at you.

“Now why would we go and do a thing like that?” He asked. “Your boyfriend might have been scum but he was right, you’re valuable cargo. You’re gonna be a good girl for us, right?”

You weren’t really sure what to say to that, your heart beating so hard and fast you were sure this man could see your pulse in your throat.

“Don’t really matter either way, does it?” He said as Tommy handed him some rope. “You either cooperate or you’re more trouble than you’re worth and we just kill you. Don’t make much difference to us. Hands out, wrists together.”

You just looked at him and he sighed, pulling his sidearm out again and putting it below your chin. The muzzle was warm and wet from where he’d just killed Zach and, for a moment, you thought you were going to vomit.

“Didn’t I just say I’d kill you if you got to be more trouble than you’re worth?” He said. “You’re already a lot of trouble by bein’ and extra mouth to feed so I recommend cooperating before my temper runs out. So. Hands out, wrists together.”

You obeyed and the man wrapped your wrists in rope tight enough that you had no hope of wriggling out but not so tight that it was painful, just uncomfortable. He wrapped his large hand around the cluster of rope between your wrists and yanked you to your feet.

“Got anything on you I should be worried about?” He asked. “Be a lot easier on you if you tell me now than later.”

“Knife,” you said, voice shaky. “Right pocket.”

“Good girl.”

He reached into your pocket and pulled the weapon free, opening and examining the blade.

“Know how to use this?” He asked, brows raised.

“I’ve used it,” you replied. He nodded and closed it, putting it in his pocket.

“Be a good enough girl for a long enough time and maybe you can get it back,” he said before turning to Tommy. “I’m gettin’ a head start with this one, heading north west, back to site. You know the way.”

“I know it,” he said. “We’ll clear out quick, catch up soon.”

The man who had you grabbed your pack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder before bringing his rifle around to his front, nudging you forward with the muzzle.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Try and take off and I’ll shoot ya. And I don’t miss.”

The man kept close to you, nudging you along in front of him and you tried not to trip on roots and overgrown brush but you’d only been walking about 20 minutes when you failed, falling with a pained grunt. The man sighed and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to your feet.

“You OK?” He asked, gun pointed at the ground and not at you.

“Yes,” you said, even though your hands were scraped up and your knees hurt and you had your boyfriend’s blood on your skin and your throat hurt from screaming.

“Keep movin’,” he ordered.

You kept looking back over your shoulder at him. He reminded you of a guy you dated once who was in the army. He never looked in one place too long, head constantly turning, looking, searching. There were threats, he knew that. He also knew how to see them coming. The gun was tilted toward the ground but close and ready. You were waiting for him to change his mind about you, to shoot you, too. Part of you wondered if this was part of a game for him, if he was going to walk with you just long enough to lull you into a false sense of security before shooting you. Maybe he liked the fear, the surprise. Maybe he’d given too much away by killing Zach and now he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.

Maybe that was better than the alternative.

You were only walking about an hour when the other men, Tommy and Vince, caught up to you. The man you were with turned and pointed the gun, noticing their approach before you did. You froze, only realizing that it was probably a good time to run now that his attention was elsewhere once it was too late.

“Just us, Joel,” Tommy called as they climbed up the hill you’d just made it up yourselves. “No trouble behind us.”

The man - Joel, apparently - lowered the rifle and the men joined you. They had four packs between the two of them, two you didn’t recognize and two backpacking bags that you recognized as yours and Zach’s. Your stomach turned.

“Not a terrible haul,” Tommy said. “These two had decent gear and must have just taken somethin’ good. A lot of jerky, good stock of ammo, some medical shit.”

Joel looked down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use the shit in those bags?” He asked. You just looked back at him. He sighed and grabbed a fist full of your hair, jerking you close to him, making you squeak in shock. “Don’t play dumb, girl, you know how to use that shit?”

“No,” you said sarcastically, not sure where the guts for that came from. “I enjoy hauling around shit I can’t do anything with.”

Joel’s jaw tensed and you weren’t sure if he was about to yell or laugh.

“Not gonna get far with an attitude like that, little rabbit,” Tommy said, but he was smirking a little. “Lot better for you if you just answer the questions when we ask ‘em.”

You looked between the two men closest to you for a moment. You wondered if they were related. Their eyes were the same, same hair, too. They would have been handsome in another context, one where you weren’t afraid they were about to kill you.

“It’s mine,” you said after a moment. “We were backpacking when the outbreak happened, we didn’t even know for a day or two, we were in the middle of the mountains and there weren’t other people around. I know how to use it all.”

Joel released you.

“Good to know you ain’t completely useless,” he said.

“You mean outside the fact that I can save your life?” You bit out. Again, you weren’t sure why.

He snorted.

“Outside of that. Keep movin’.”

With the other men there, Tommy took the lead and you followed, Vince and Joel behind you. You could feel Vince’s eyes on you, the cold, lecherous feeling of his gaze making your stomach churn.

Night was starting to fall by the time you reached a cabin that showed greater signs of people than you’d seen in what felt like forever. There was a stack of wood on the front porch, a line between the house and a tree that looked like it was meant for drying clothes, barrels placed to gather rain water. You stopped, staring at the small structure.

“Inside,” Joel said after a moment.

“I have to pee.”

He sighed.

“Vince,” he said. “Take her to piss. Don’t fuckin’ touch her unless she tries to run, got it?”

Vince groaned but nudged you off to the side of the house with the muzzle of his gun. You looked around, trying to get a lay of the land, see what a good route out might be. There was a small path that looked like it would take you deeper into the woods, eventually up into the Smokies. That was fine. If you could get your pack, you could survive out there for at least a week or two on your own, maybe find a settlement or something. You’d never had to survive on your own, you’d never hunted or shot a human being. Zach had handled that. You weren’t sure how long you could really make it on your own but you’d rather give that a shot than leave yourself to whatever these men had in store for you.

“Here’s good,” Vince said after two minutes of walking. You held out your wrists and he raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“I can’t really pull my pants down like this,” you said. “I’m not a man, I can’t just whip my dick out…”

He stomped over to you and unbutton and unzipped your jeans before yanking them down to your knees, ignoring your surprised sound before going back to your hips. His fingers trailed over your skin, sinking into the meat of your ass and making your stomach churn, before he pulled your panties down, too. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering on you, before he stood up.

“There,” he said. “Happy?”

He walked a few steps away and turned back to look at you.

“I can’t go with you watching.”

He shrugged.

“Not my problem. You have to go bad enough, you’ll go.”

You glared at him and held his gaze before squatting and peeing, missing toilet paper and privacy more than you had since the damn outbreak started. You straightened up when you were done and stood there, still looking at him.

“Afraid you’ll have to come pull up my pants, too,” you said. “Since your boss apparently wants you to wait on me hand and foot.”

A muscle in the man’s neck twitched but he stalked over and yanked your clothes back up, harshly buttoning and zipping your jeans before shoving you back toward the cabin hard enough that you stumbled.

Inside, Joel and Tommy were sitting at a rustic table, a fire going in the nearby fireplace. There were two Nalgene bottles of water on the table and a bag of jerky between them. The jerky you recognized. You and Zach had made it just a few days earlier.

You tried not to think about it.

“He behave himself?” Joel asked, stretched out with his legs far in front of him.

“You’re really gonna take this little cunt’s word over mine?” Vince asked.

Joel just kept looking at you, ignoring him entirely.

“Asked you a question girl,” he said. “He keep his hands to himself?”

You glanced at Vince who was staring down Joel, his blue eyes hot and angry. You looked back to Joel.

“He was fine,” you said.

“Good,” Joel said, getting up, grabbing a bottle of water and going over to you. He put one of his huge hands on your shoulder, guiding you to the nearby couch and nudging you down onto it.

You obeyed his unspoken command, lowering yourself slowly down but not relaxing into the cushion, staying on the edge of it.

“Open,” he ordered.

Your eyes narrowed. He glared back.

“Open your mouth,” he said when you didn’t obey.

“You put your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it clean off.”

Joel squared his jaw and held up the bottle of water.

“Don’t got a smaller bottle right now and you can’t hold this with your hands tied. Don’t want you droppin’ dead from dehydration after we went through all the trouble to get you here so open your goddamn mouth.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before you obeyed. He unscrewed the top and poured the water on your tongue, crisp and cool and making you aware of just how thirsty you’d become in the few hours you’d been with him.

“Good girl,” he said. “Was that so hard?”

Eventually, he stopped and you closed your mouth, wiping your lips on the back of your tied hands as he closed the bottle.

“Don’t gotta worry about that shit from us,” he said. “Prefer when a woman begs for it, not about to take it from one who ain’t.”

“Because I can trust what a group of murderers says,” you snapped.

“Murderers,” Joel shrugged. “Not rapists. Hungry?”

“Why?” You asked, tongue still sharp. “Going to be kind enough to give me scraps of the food you stole from me?”

“Something like that,” Joel said. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death, just let me know. Save you the trouble and put you down quick instead.”

You watched him for a moment. For some reason, you trusted what he was saying to you. That he wasn’t going to hurt you - at least, not like that. That he was intending to keep you alive.

“Not hungry,” you said eventually.

Joel shrugged.

“If you change your mind.”

You sat on the edge of the couch cushion as the men took inventory of what they stole from you, what they killed Zach to take. You tried not to cry.

It’s not like you’d been especially close to Zach when the outbreak happened. You hadn’t said “I love you” yet, you’d been dating for a month and a half and fucking for just a few weeks of that.

The backpacking trip had been a spur of the moment thing for both of you. You had some vacation time to burn before the end of the quarter, his job was flexible and you’d bonded over a shared love of the outdoors. You’d ignored the words of caution from your girlfriends when he wanted to take you hiking for a second date, the two of you ending up exhausted but proud as you came to the end of the seven mile trail he’d selected. He kissed you there for the first time, his lips salty with trail mix and sweat and a view of a valley swelling with shades of green spread out below you.

You were somewhere in the mountains when the world collapsed. You didn’t even know it had happened until you returned to where you’d parked your car to find the windows smashed and the inside looted, a body missing a chunk of its skull not far away. You’d ran to it on instinct, dropping to your knees beside them to check their pulse even though it was clear that there was no way they would be alive. Their skin was cold and there were fibrous, vine-like tendrils swarming in their brain.

It had been you and Zach from there. He was more of a survivalist than you. He knew how to hunt and trap, taught you how to skin a rabbit and process a deer. You weren’t sure if you’d truly come to love him or not, if the feeling you had for him was just what happened when you went about surviving the end of the world with another person and became dependent on them for your very life.

But you were certain that he hadn’t loved you. Not really. If he had, he never would have given you over to these men.

You’d never have done that to him.

Maybe you did love him. You weren’t sure you’d ever know.

“Sleep here,” Joel ordered as the day fully shifted to night and Tommy and Vince started readying for bed. “I’m keepin’ watch for now. We were gone long enough, some dumbasses might think they can move in. Don’t try anything.”

He went onto the porch and you stretched out on the couch, the other men going into what you expected were bedrooms at the back of the cabin. Your hands were still bound. You stared at the dying embers of the fire, the orange glow, and cried.

***

Joel needed Vince to stop acting like a shit head.

The man didn’t seem to understand the position he was in. He was the least valuable person here. He was young, he was dumb and he was disposable.

He just didn’t seem to realize it. If he kept looking at you like you were something he could take, he’d find out just how disposable he was.

Joel came in from his watch about 5 a.m. to find you whimpering quietly on the couch. He sighed.

“You really still crying over that jackass you were with?” He asked as you sniffled quietly.

“Shut up,” your voice was thick and wet.

“He ain’t worth it,” he said gently, sitting in the armchair that was near where your head was. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. But then, he’d never really taken a captive before. He usually just killed people or turned them loose. You were valuable enough to keep and sending you out into the wilderness alone seemed crueler than holding onto you. He just had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do with you now. “He didn’t know who the fuck we were or what the fuck we’d do with you - lot worse out there than us, little girl - and he handed you over on a silver fuckin’ platter. More than happy to trade your pain for his sorry life.”

“He’s the only person left that I knew,” you said softly. It was the first truly genuine thing Joel had heard you say. Except, maybe, when you asked if he was going to kill you. “I’m alone now.”

“Not alone, little girl,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was reassuring you. He shouldn’t care. “You’re better off.”

“Why do you call me that?” You asked, lifting your head ever so slightly from the arm of the couch to look at him. “I’m not a little girl…”

“Little compared to me,” he said.

You scoffed and sniffed at the same time.

“You’re a giant,” you said. “Everyone is little compared to you. Don’t see you calling Vinny there little boy…”

Joel laughed a bit.

“Maybe I should. And you’re a girl.”

“I’m a woman,” you said, a spark of defiance in your tone. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you, if I am at all.”

Joel frowned a bit at that.

“How old are you?” He asked after a moment.

You thought for a second, like you were doing the math. Which was fair. It’s not like he’d celebrated his last birthday, either, his stomach twisting at the thought. He had to think about it, too.

“I’m 33,” you said. “How old are you?”

He was surprised. Not that you looked terribly young, now that he thought about it. More that human faces lacked much definition to him anymore. Anyone older than a teenager looked about the same until they started going gray. You just seemed younger.

“I’m 37,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not a girl,” you said, putting your head back down.

“You could tell me your name,” he said.

You scoffed.

“Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you, little girl,” he said. He could feel you glare at him.

“I had a whole life before,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Joel. “I had a house and a job and friends and I used to go to dinner and to concerts and buy the people I loved presents. I had a life before.”

He realized then why he’d thought you were younger. You were, possibly, the most human person he’d come across in a year. Some small spark of divine mortality - the juxtaposition of life and a kind of death that was still possible - there in your eyes that didn’t exist in others. It seemed naive, in a way. Made you seem younger than you were. But he wasn’t sure that was it. Maybe you weren’t naive. Maybe part of you was just clinging to your humanity harder than anyone else left.

“We all did,” he said, voice harsher than he’d really meant it to be. There was part of him that wanted to snap that tie in you. It was unfair that you got to keep it when he didn’t. But it was a kindness, too. You’d survive better without it. “You move on. Go to sleep.”

He went to the room he shared with Tommy who was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed and snoring. Joel took the sleeping bag on the floor and stared at the ceiling, trying to make himself not listen for the sound of you crying in the next room.

Things were surprisingly smooth with you for the next two days. Vince was a fucking idiot and got a nasty cut on his arm that you tended to, giving him stitches while he leered at you and Joel ground his teeth.

He felt better with you tied. Your wrists, at the very least, but during the day when the men were coming and going, Joel bound you to a chair at the table.

“Comfortable?” He asked the first time he did it.

“No,” you spat, face scrunched in anger that was so fierce it was almost cute. If Joel even found things cute anymore. “I’m not.”

“You gonna lose a hand from me cuttin’ off your circulation?” He asked instead. You just glared at him. “Good. Stay put, like a good girl.”

“I hate you,” you seethed at him.

Joel shrugged.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Don’t gotta like me to keep me alive, do ya?”

He went outside to gather wood.

By the third night, you were yawning and looked barely conscious before the sun had even set. Joel frowned.

“I keep telling you to sleep,” he said. “You ignoring me for fun or you think exhausting yourself is good for your health?”

“I’d love to sleep,” you snapped. “But something about having my wrists bound keeps me up at night. Maybe it’s the discomfort, maybe it’s the looming threat of death, who can say?”

Joel pulled Tommy and Vince aside after dinner, the men standing in the dirt outside the cabin, snow starting to drift down.

“She hasn’t tried to hurt anyone yet,” Tommy shrugged. “Don’t think she’s gonna go far if she gets away and doesn’t seem like the kind to kill us in our sleep.”

“Don’t like it,” Vince said, glaring at the cabin for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Can’t trust her as far as we can throw her…”

“No one said shit about trust,” Joel cut him off. “But we can’t keep ‘er tied up forever.”

“Fine,” Vince shrugged. “We can put her to use then kill her. Won’t need to tie her up then.”

Joel could hear the blood in his ears.

“Suggest that one more time, little boy, and see how long you last,” he straightened up as he said it, the full six inches he had on the younger man all the more apparent then. “You want to do that kind of shit, find someone else to run with.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he raised his arms in a moment of surrender before crossing them again. “Just don’t come crying to me when she slits your fucking throat.”

“Can’t cry if she kills me, can I?” Joel said, stomping back toward the house, pushing past Vince on the way.

You were still bound to the chair. He wordlessly unwound the rope and you relaxed your elbows, stretching your arms as best you could with your wrists still tied.

“Hands up,” he said. You frowned, just looking at him. “You heard me, you want me to untie you or not? Hands up.”

You practically flung your wrists at him and he tried not to laugh at you as he loosened the knot and pulled the rope from your wrists.

The second you were free, you rolled your shoulders and closed your eyes, groaning at the feeling of it.

“God that’s good,” you moaned before you started flexing your fingers and rotating your wrists before you glared up at him again. “What? You try being tied up for days, see how you deal with it.”

“Rather not,” Joel said, winding up the rope. “Better be a good girl, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said as you spread your arms wide and sighed. Joel found himself smiling a little for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He stopped himself.

“Actually get some sleep,” he said, voice gruff. “No good to us exhausted.”

He left you alone, taking the bed in he and Tommy’s room that night and Tommy taking the floor. It took effort to not listen for you moving in the front room as he drifted off.

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when Tommy shook him awake.

“Joel,” he said urgently. “She’s gone.”

***

Absolutely none of this was ideal.

You were exhausted, the only thing keeping you upright the adrenaline that ran through your whole body. You didn’t have supplies, your pack and all its valuable contents in the bedrooms of the men. You were stuck running through snow, leaving a clear path to follow until the woods got dense enough that the snow hadn’t piled up much.

But you had to go, you had to go now, now, now, right now. You couldn’t spend another night there like that, not when you had the option to get away, not when you had the use of your arms back.

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep, even for an hour or two, even just for a night to try to make a break for it tomorrow. The second Joel had freed your hands it was like you could feel every part of your body in sharp, acute detail. Every frayed nerve, every thrumming vein, every peaked hair was stark and clear. You couldn’t relax enough to sleep. You had an opening, a chance. You had to take it, you had to.

You didn’t even have your knife.

But you had your body and you knew how to push yourself over long distances in the mountains. You’d been good at it before, too. You’d hiked most of your life, knowing how to get yourself to make it to the top of the next ridge even when your calves were burning and your lungs felt on the verge of collapse you knew you could make it.

All you had to do was do that now, through all the exhaustion and all the panic, and put as much distance between yourself and those men as possible.

You’d find some way to keep yourself alive eventually. There’d be supplies or a settlement. Something. You were sure of that.

Mostly.

Your breath rose in a cloud in front of you and you broke away from the trail into the brush of the woods, thankful that the moon was bright enough that you could have some sense of where you were going.

You were just starting to relax a little when you heard it behind you. A sharp, shrill whistle. You froze.

“Come on out, little rabbit,” Tommy called. “Not gonna hurt you…”

“Shit,” you whispered as you panted for breath. They sounded pretty far away but they’d catch up eventually.

You scrambled through the forest until you reached a cluster of ferns that was thick and full and you ducked into it. If you stayed quiet and still, they’d walk right past you. You could stay put for a while and then find your way from there. Simple.

You tried to not shake from cold and fear as you heard the signs of the men getting close. There was the crunch of sticks, the rustle of leaves and the eerie sound of Vince humming Run, Rabbit, Run. The glare of a flashlight trickled between the ferns and you held your breath, the humming getting louder.

For a second, a glorious second, you thought you were in the clear. Vince had passed your hiding spot, poking through the brush closest to the trail with his rifle but you were just far enough off the trail that he missed you, and you relaxed.

Then you heard the snap of a twig.

“Found you.”

You spun, Vince turning the flashlight on and shining it in your face, all but blinding you. You threw up a hand instinctively to protect your eyes and he grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of your hiding spot and almost pulling your arm out of its socket in the process.

You yelped in pain, you couldn’t help it, and he all but threw you onto the trail. Your eyes were still adjusting to the light but it took you a moment to realize that he had his gun trained on you.

“Knew you’d take off on us,” he said, panting a little. You put your hands up and looked for a way out. “Knew you’d be more trouble than you’re worth…”

You backed away from him, more on instinct than anything else, not able to watch where you were going and you shrieked as you tripped and fell back, landing hard and barely catching yourself before your head smacked into the rock of the path. You rose up on your hands quickly, scrambling back from him as best you could but he was standing, could see where he was going. You didn’t have a hope.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please just… just let me go, you already have my supplies and…”

“Can’t let you go with you knowing where we are,” he replied. “And you were already more trouble than you’re worth in my opinion…”

“I stitched up your arm,” you said, tears stinging at your eyes. “I helped you…”

“And those two idiots won’t even let me fuck you,” he cut you off. “What good is pussy you can’t fuck, hm?”

“Please,” you said again.

“That’s not an answer,” he prowled closer, the muzzle of his rifle so close you could almost touch it. Your heart was in your throat. “Think I’ll just kill you, bet that pretty head of yours would make all kinds of nice colors when I blow it off…”

“Hey!” Tommy snapped, his gun up and pointed at Vince. “Know you’re not threatenin’ to kill her, not when we all agreed to keep her alive.”

“You agreed,” Vince snapped. “You and your asshole brother, not me.”

“That asshole has been keepin’ your sorry ass alive,” Joel growled from behind you. Your head whipped around to see him there, looming large over you. His gun was up, too, pointed at Vince. “You need us a whole hell of a lot more than we need you. You can do what I fuckin’ say or you can move on. But you keep pointing that gun at her and you ain’t gonna have much to move on with.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, Vince aiming at you, Joel and Tommy aiming at him. Your heart felt like it was going to break your ribs it was beating so hard.

Vince lowered his gun. Tommy did the same but Joel left his up.

“Joel,” Vince said but Joel cut him off.

“Don’t like men who don’t listen,” he said. “Not worth shit to me if you can’t take orders. Said you could join me and my brother if you did what you were told.”

“I told you she’d run!” Vince snapped.

“Don’t give a shit,” Joel said. “You think nurses pop up every five fuckin’ feet? She’s valuable. To us and to people we come across. Worth a little trouble. Worth a whole hell of a lot more trouble than you. Know your goddamn place.”

He lowered his gun and looked down to you.

“You alright, little girl?”

You were too shaken to fight the nickname. Instead, you just nodded.

“Good.”

He slung his rifle on his back and reached down, yanking you sharply to your feet, the movement so rough it shocked you. Once you were on your feet, he grabbed you by your chin, his callused fingers harsh on your cheeks, and pulled your face close, so close that you’d expect him to kiss you if he were your lover.

But he wasn’t that. He was your captor.

“Thought I told you not to try anything stupid,” he asked, his face almost eerily calm but his tone on the edge of anger. “You seem smart enough to know better, give you an inch and you decide to take a mile. Several, in fact. Maybe Vince is right, maybe we should kill you…”

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously but Joel threw him a glare and he quieted.

“You really think you can do better than us out there? Hm?” He demanded. “You think you can survive all on your lonesome?”

“No,” you said, fighting to not cry. You hated that you reacted this way, that when you were scared or mad your first instinct was to cry. “But I could find…”

“Find what?” He cut you off. “Find someone else who’s willin’ to stick their necks out for you? Willing to feed you, shelter you without takin’ more from you?”

He released your chin and you slumped back from him, massaging your face and working your jaw, trying to right it.

“You’re damn lucky to be with us, little girl,” he snapped. “Real damn lucky. Better start actin’ like it instead of running off like some scared little rabbit. Hands out.”

“But…”

“No,” he shook his head firmly. “You lost the privilege of using your fuckin’ hands without my permission. Hands. Out.”

You obeyed, arms trembling, and he bound your wrists together, the ropes finding the same indentations they’d made on your skin before. He dropped your wrists once they were bound and you looked at him as you still fought to not cry. His eyes met yours, sharp and cold.

“You’re mine now,” he said harshly. “Sooner you figure that out, the easier this gets for you. Move.”

The walk back to the cabin felt long and, when you got there, you went to lay on the couch but Joel stopped you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, shrugging out of his coat.

You frowned.

“Going to sleep…”

“Not there you’re not,” he said. “You’re sleepin’ with me, you don’t get to be unsupervised anymore.”

Your eyes went wide and you shook your head.

“No, no, please, you said you weren’t…”

“Wasn’t offerin’ to fuck you, girl,” he cut you off. “You’re sleeping where I can fucking see you so get in my bed.”

Your whole body shook as he nudged you to one of the back rooms. You hadn’t been in one of these before. You had no idea how to try to escape if you needed to. It was stupid of you, you realized now, to trust Joel when he said they might be murderers but they weren’t rapists. Just because they hadn’t forced themselves on you yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t now.

The room wasn’t huge, a queen sized bed in the middle and a sleeping bag on the floor. There was a door - to a closet, you assumed - and a dresser with some picture frames on top.

“Shoes off,” Joel said.

“Please,” you said softly. “Please don’t do this, I…”

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t offering to fuck you?” He asked, sounding exasperated. “I don’t want you tracking dirt into the goddamn bed. Shoes off, get in on that side, one by the dresser. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.”

You obeyed and curled as tightly in on yourself as you could, facing away from him. You felt the bed dip as he climbed in, the heat of his body close to yours. But he didn’t touch you.

“Actually sleep,” Joel muttered after a moment.

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He was flat on his back, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. The opposite of someone who looked like they were about to grope you the second you passed out.

Still, you rolled to face him, curled tightly on yourself, and watched him until his body loosened and his breaths evened. Tommy snored lightly from the sleeping bag on the floor. You weren’t sure if their unconscious state made it feel safe enough to rest or your body gave out from exhaustion but, the next thing you knew, it was morning and you were alone.

You sat up slowly, hands still bound, an unfamiliar blanket draped over you that hadn’t been the night before.

You made your way slowly, cautiously, to the main part of the small house. The men were talking in low voices around the kitchen table and you hovered for a moment, not sure if you wanted them to notice you or not.

But Tommy was the first to see you there, a slow smile spreading over his face.

“Well hey there little rabbit,” he took a sip from a mug. “You look rested.”

“Probably wore herself out taking off,” Vince muttered.

“Gonna be just you and me today,” Tommy said, ignoring Vince’s comments. “Those two are headin’ out to do some business.”

“Business?” You asked, brows raised. “Is that code for murder?”

“Our business is none of yours, little girl,” Joel said, drinking from a mug of his own. “You stay here, behave yourself, and maybe we’ll bring you something back.”

“Rather not get anything that comes from killing,” you said. “Thanks though.”

Joel just rolled his eyes and shoved back from the table.

“You’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it,” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He put two fingers below your chin and tilted it, forcing you too look him in the eye. “Gonna take off on me again? Or do I need to tie your legs up, too?”

You gritted your teeth.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

Tommy helped you use the bathroom and you sat on the couch with jerky and sore wrists and resentment as you watched Joel and Vince get ready to head out to do… whatever it was they were about to go and do.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do to pass the time. You’d had some books in your bags but you weren’t about to risk pissing off the men for a little entertainment.

But Tommy didn’t let you sit in silence for too long, flopping down next to you on the couch as you tried to find patterns in the peeling paint of he wall. You looked at him, cagey. He smiled.

“You’re cute when you sleep.”

You frowned.

“What?”

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he said again. “All curled up and shit, just like a little rabbit.”

You shrank back from him and he put his hands up.

“Not gonna touch you,” he said. “Unless you wanted me to.”

“Well… I don’t.”

He shrugged.

“Didn’t expect you would,” he said.

He was quiet again for a few minutes before he spoke again, a gleam in his eye when he did.

“Wouldn’t happen to play poker, would you?”

You didn’t but he seemed happy enough to teach you. But you couldn’t hold the cards well with your wrists bound and, after a few minutes of struggling, Tommy glanced toward the door like he was half expecting Joel to walk through it.

“Gimme those,” he said, holding his hands out. You thrust your wrists at him faster than you were proud of and he laughed a little, taking hold of you gently. He paused before starting at the rope. “You’re not gonna take off on me, right, little rabbit?”

“Not at the moment,” you said.

“Good,” he replied, untying you. “Not a fan of keepin’ you all tied up anyway…”

You turned your wrists, the bones popping as you luxuriated in the movement.

“Thank you,” you said, massaging one wrist and then the other.

He shrugged.

“The game is Texas Hold ‘Em,” he said, dealing. “We’ll play a few hands open and then see how you do…”

It was oddly easy to forget that you were being held captive when playing cards with Tommy. He was lighter than the other men, more like people you remembered from before, making easy going conversation about things that hadn’t mattered in more than a year.

“I’m still mad that I didn’t get to see the second Matrix,” you said, watching as Tommy put the flop on the table.

“That, darlin’, was a blessing,” he replied. “Wasn’t nearly as good as the first.”

“I heard that, but still,” you said, looking at the seven of clubs, three of hearts and king of clubs on the table and trying not to smile at the seven of spades and king of hearts in your hand. “I think it might have been better than I heard. And maybe it would have made more sense when the third one came out…”

“Maybe,” Tommy said, putting the turn on the table. Ace of diamonds, no good for you. “But I dunno, you seem too smart to like something that shitty.”

“Bold assumption,” you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“Before I put the river card out,” he said. “How about we make this interesting?”

“Interesting,” you frowned. “Interesting how?”

“I win, you tell me something about yourself,” he said. “You win, I’ll give you something you want. Can’t be a weapon but something else.”

You looked at him, brows raised.

“C’mon, little rabbit,” he gave you a cocky smirk. “Let’s have some fun.”

You looked at your hand again.

“Alright,” you smiled a little. “Let’s do it.”

The river was the king of spades and you tried not to smile too wide.

“Alright,” he said, looking like he was holding back a grin himself. “I’ll show you mine then you show me yours.”

You shrugged and he smiled as he put the king of diamonds and the three of spades on the table.

“Full house,” he said. “Kings over threes.”

“Damn,” you sighed. “I just have the kings…” you lowered the card, looking disappointed and enjoyed Tommy’s excited expression for half a second before you put the second card on the table. “Oh, and the sevens. Sevens are higher than threes, right? I mean, I only went to nursing school, I can’t be sure…”

“You little shit,” Tommy laughed. “You’ve got a damn fine poker face on you! Alright, what is it you want?”

“My books,” you said immediately. “I had two, I think, in my pack. I’d like them. Please.”

“I can get you the books,” he smiled. “You sit tight.”

He brought you the books and you played another hand with the same stakes. And another. And another. And more after that.

You got some hair ties and clean socks out of the deal. Tommy got to know your favorite food and what you liked to watch on TV back when there was TV.

After a while, he looked at the books that you’d set aside on the table. He picked up the top one, Slaughterhouse Five.

“Think this was on my reading list in high school,” he said, looking over the back of it. “Never actually read it though.”

“It’s good,” you said. “You missed out.”

“Read it to me,” he said, holding it out to you.

“Read it to you?” You asked, brows raised. “What are you, five?”

“Never much enjoyed reading,” he shrugged, still holding the book out. “But I like listening. Like listening to you well enough. C’mon, little rabbit. Tell me a story.”

You considered him for a moment. You felt oddly safe with Tommy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was showing you kindness and one of the only three people left in the world you knew now or if he was actually safe. You weren’t sure you could trust anything you were thinking and feeling.

But reading to him didn’t sound bad.

“Can we move to the couch?” You asked.

He laughed.

“Think we can manage it.”

You settled on the couch, you folded into a corner and Tommy stretched out. He watched you closely as you opened the book.

“All this happened, more or less…”

You fell asleep on the couch before Joel and Vince made it back but you woke up in he bed, Tommy snoring next to you.

Part 2

A/N: Hey yeah so... this was supposed to be a one shot but it got away from me. So now it's two parts. Part two up sometime within the next week or so ❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #run rabbit #dddne #dubcon #raider!joel #raider!Tommy #dead dove december #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you

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reidsdimples · 4 days

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Cats outta the bag- your relationship with MGG goes public on Instagram 🫢

YourInstagram

gublergram and 68,678 others

YourInstagram: one year and countless adventures later 🥂

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pagetpagetgram: love you two 😗

reidsheart: omggg

Kirstenvangness: cats outta the bag!

Ajcook: @ kirstenvangness you knew??

User987: she’s adorable wtf. A year??

Gublergram

joemantegna and 654,872 others

Gublergram: guess who’s who 🖤

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reidsdimplessss: whatttt

Mgggstannn: this is the rejection I needed to move on

Userrk44: @ mgggstannn: real 😓

User788: I’m sick

Yourinstagram: 🖤😘

bestiesinstagram: 📸: me, the best third wheel

Ripesugarentertainment

criminalminds and others

Ripesugarentertainment: Mystery girl spotted with Matthew Gray Gubler last week, now confirmed to be his girlfriend of one year! The Criminal Minds star, author, and director usually keeps his dating life private but fans have been speculating that a special someone has been in his life for a while…

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ashfootl: stoppp

gubesear: omg so cute

bestiesinstagram: @/yourinstagram u guys make me sick ❤️

yourinstagram: @/bestiesinstagram ily more

Yourinstagram

reidxfans and 20,378 others

YourInstagram: Human? Or dancers?

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Mgggfan: waiiit this makes sense now

Gubleritaly: @/mgggfan right? The killers reference!

Hazguy: it’s giving what it’s suppose to give 💁🏼‍♂️

Bestiesinstagram: thx for not getting my shoes wet

#spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #matthew gray gubler aesthetic #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler

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billthedrake · 5 months

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FAMILY BUSINESS

"You want another, son?" Frank Mazza asked as he and his son Anthony sat in the living room of Frank's townhouse. Thursdays after work were generally dad-and-son time, a chance to catch up outside of work. It was pretty much the same every week. Two beers before Tony went back to the "luxury apartment" he shared with his girlfriend Becky. The TV on mute as ESPN or some sports game played. Conversation drifting between small talk to serious matters and back to small talk.

Every Thursday Frank asked his son if he wanted a third beer, and every Thursday Tony declined. Frank gathered Tony wasn't pussy whipped or anything, but the two had shared enough guy talk to know the 24-year-old never liked to miss a day when it came to sex and if he came home too late, or too drunk, Becky wouldn't put out.

The Mazza men had shared a lot more guy talk lately.

Tony lifted up his bottle and gave it a glance before finishing it off with a final swig. The kid had the killer Mazza smile and those soulful brown eyes that made him a ladies man in high school and in his fraternity days at college. "Yeah, sound good, Dad," he said. "Though I'll have to take an Uber or something."

Frank cracked a grin and patted Tony's knee with his big mitt of a hand before he hoisted his beefy body up. "You're always welcome to crash in the spare room."

Tony grinned. "You ever gonna put away all my football trophies?" he laughed.

Frank chuckled. "It's still your room, Tone... I guess a father never gets over the empty nest thing."

Tony rolled his eyes some but didn't lose that Mazza smile. "Empty nest? Dad, we see each other practically every day. More than after the divorce."

Frank winced a little in the grimace. That had been tough. He still didn't know if he'd made the right move divorcing Janice when he did. It killed him to think he'd put his son through that and selfishly he knew it had made his relationship with Tone a lot tougher for a lot of years. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Come on, Dad," Anthony objected. "I didn't mean it like that."

Frank nodded and went to get two more beers. He felt relieved when he came back and indeed Tony was in one of his relaxed, happy go lucky moods.

"Long day," the son said as he took a sip.

"Now you know how I've felt all these years," Frank said. It wasn't that Frank Mazza didn't value being a family man, but he'd always been a workaholic. He loved being in the provider role, maybe, and certainly loved the satisfaction of an honest day's work, maybe it was more satisfying than the emotional connections he sometimes had a hard time with in marriage.

Anthony shrugged. "I don't mind the hours when I know I'm working for myself."

Frank grinned. He was 44 now and thick-muscular Italian looks were now more clearly handsome. Gray temples set off his tan face and his otherwise dark hair. And his clean-shaven scruff made his dark complexion more alluringly masculine. "You know... I didn't expect you'd come back and join the business," he said, opening up with that third beer.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Dad. I know. But I never had a doubt I wanted to... I mean... you worked hard to build the business up, I wanna do the Mazza name proud."

Frank worried he was going to get emotional. He and Tone had a rough patch when he was in high school, and he knew for sure that once the kid went off to college and got the degree his father never did... well, Frank expected Tony to never look back.

Instead, Mazza Contractors became Mazza and Son. They joked that Frank was the Brawn and Tony was the brains. It wasn't like his son wasn't muscular in his own right - a former tight end in high school and a regular devotee of the gym these days, Tony was downright buff. But he had a Bachelors in Business Administration and a good head for accounting. Tony was already the one interfacing with clients, generally well-to-do suburbanites looking for an upscale kitchen or bathroom remodel job. More than Frank, he knew how to talk those fuckers' language and how to placate demanding Karens. And when needed, Frank would show up to assure them of that blue-collar work ethic.

"So..." Frank said, changing the subject. "Becky not expecting you home?"

Tony shook his head. He had a look that was a mix of wounded and defiant. "Nah, we broke up."

"What?" the father said. Maybe because Tony had rekindled things with his high school sweetheart after graduation, he expected this one to last. "Sorry to hear, son."

Tony shrugged. "It's all right. It kind of sucks, but I was the one to call things off."

Frank leaned forward, his brown eyes showing that parental concern. "Can I ask what the problem was?"

Gone was that Mazza smile as Tony explained. "It's just... you know how Becky is very independent. You know, the career woman type... I don't know, Dad... I think I need someone more traditional."

"Traditional?" Frank questioned.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, you know, kind of like you and Mom. The wife staying home, taking care of things, the man being the bread winner. That kind of thing."

Frank patted Tony's shoulder in reassurance. "I know times have changed," he said. "But I'm pretty sure there are some traditional women out there."

Tony nodded. "Probably, yeah."

Frank leaned in and sais in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "Just be careful... some of the traditional girls... well, they sometimes expect to be spoiled some. Particularly if they're pretty."

Tony laughed. "I know Mom was a princess, Dad," he said. "You don't have to mince words."

Frank clapped Tone's firm shoulder and withdrew his hand. "Guess not. Look... I made a promise I was never gonna speak ill of your mother to ya. But I'll just say there were times I wish I'd been supported more at home. After a ten hour day, sometimes a man just wants to be pampered a little when he gets home, you know?"

Tony's eyes met his. "That's it in a nutshell, Dad. It's just us guys, right?" the son asked as a prelude to what he was about to say. Not all fathers and sons talked openly about sex, but Frank never seemed to have any hangups, and since Tony had first gone to college they reconnected almost like buddies as much as family.

"Yeah," Frank assured him. "Just us guys."

"Becky was nice and all... and in my way I loved her, Dad. Still do.. but, fuck... I'd get home from the office and she'd be yammering about all her work crap and I'd just want to kick back and get a fucking blowjob."

Tony's crude words didn't shock Frank. Just as Frank's never shocked Tony.

"I hear ya, son," the man said. "Your old man's not one to be handing out dating advice, but you should find a girl who likes giving head and doesn't mind giving it."

Tony grinned. "Had one girl in college who did. But she was a stuck up bitch," he said. "She thought she was slumming it by going out with an Italian dude... I guess we both used each other."

Frank grinned. He had a good idea which girl Tone was talking about.

But his son's train of thought had already moved on. "Well, it's a hell of a lot easier with guys."

Frank's eyes went wide. He'd had a couple experiences like that under his belt. But the father-son chats had never gone there, not even in their most buddy-buddy candidness. "You done that, Tone?"

His son took a sip of beer and nodded. "It's easy as ordering fucking takeout, Dad," he laughed. "You go on your phone, see what's on the menu, pick out a cocksucker... and then it's pick up or delivery." His accent was now half North Jersey, half generic college-bro, but as he talked crudely, his thicker Jersey side won out.

Frank laughed. His mind was going to where he tried not to let it go. To the idea of his own son's cock and some man servicing it. "Easier than when I was your age," the father blurted out.

Now it was Anthony's turn to be surprised. "You done that, too, Pop?"

Frank blushed, but he didn't want to seem like the shy one. "Well, maybe a little younger than you... before I married your mother... sure, but it was more buddies helping each other out, you know?"

Anthony gave a half-shrug, half-nod that said he'd never had that kind of arrangement with his friends. Then his lips curled into a naughty smile. "You, uh, interested in some fun, Dad?" he asked.

Frank gulped. His mind was definitely going somewhere it shouldn't. And at that moment he wished his only son wasn't so goddamn handsome.... "Whaddya mean?" he asked softly.

Tony pulled out his phone and swiped to open it. "There's one guy who always drops everything when I hit him up," he typed the phone screen a couple times and looked up. "He's really fucking good, Dad... my favorite lately... I'm sure he'd be up for taking care of you, too."

"I don't know, Tone," Frank said, caution kicking in.

But his son was undeterred. "Come on, Dad, it'll be fun..." Then leaning back, he flashed that Mazza smile to his father and asked, "when was the last time you got laid?"

Frank shook his head. "I'm not sure this is something a father discusses with his son."

"It's just us guys, Dad," Tony countered. "How long?"

Frank blushed again. "Eight months."

"Jesus fucking Christ," his son swore. He went back to messaging the online cocksucker. "You're definitely getting some head tonight."

The burly, blue collar man thought he'd be pissed at Tony for being bossy like this. But he was secretly glad. He needed to get out of his comfort zone. Maybe Tone was onto something, using guys until the right woman came along. And he even more secretly he felt a thrill at seeing his normally good-kid of a son have a naughty sexual side. A take charge side.

"There," Tony said with a laugh as he set down his phone. "Told ya. He'll be over in fifteen minutes."

Fear came again to the Dad. "Is he... um gonna do both of us? At the same time?" The idea thrilled Frank but scared the hell out of him too.

Tony shook his head. Eyes meeting his father's for that brief moment of illicit knowledge passed between them. Tony imagining that incestuous scenario but he laughed it off. "Fuck that would be wild... ha, no, we'll take turns. He knows you're my dad, though... I think that turns the fucker on... hope you don't mind."

"No," Frank replied quietly. Then looking into Tony's brown eyes, he asked, "He's good, you say?"

"The best," the son replied. He nudged Frank's arm. "Seriously, he's gonna put those high school buddies of yours to shame."

Frank was still nervous when the guy showed up. Ian was his name. Good looking, gym built gay dude in his late 30s. Surprisingly comfortable being led in by Tony.

"Ian... this is my Dad. Dad, this is Ian," Tony said. Weirdly confident and relaxed. "Ok, if I go first? I could fuck a hole in the wall I'm so horny."

Frank felt a tightness in his crotch. He'd shared guy talk with Tone, but never seen his boy quite like this. He just gave a nod and watched his son lead Ian down the hall.

The wait was interminable. But was really five minutes tops. Then Tony strutted in, face flushed, a smile showing. That recognizable just-got-laid relaxation on his face.

"Your turn, Dad. He's waiting in my room for ya."

"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. He considered backing out, but he was too turned on now. He wasn't as nearly self conscious as he should have been by the hardon his son could see or the smirk Tony flashed when he saw it.

Ian was waiting for him all right. Sitting on Tony's old bed, surrounded by his son's old stuff that Frank kept in that second bedroom, all the posters and the football trophies. The man was unzipped and had a cock in hand and a horny look on his face.

"God, I can't believe this," the cocksucker said.

Frank didn't know a lot of gay guys, but this guy was rearranging a lot of his hang ups fast. He looked at the guy's dick. The first he'd seen up close and personal in a long time. He shut the bedroom door and locked it. Then turned to Ian.

"Ok, if I suck you?" he asked. He was almost too chicken to ask, but he knew he'd never get a chance like this again.

Ian's eyes went wide in surprise for a second, then he let go of his prick, a solid tool nearing seven inches and standing ramrod straight as the man leaned back on his arms on Tony's bed. "Sure, man... go for it."

Frank Mazza was running on adrenaline. The way he crouched down and got in place. Like he'd seen chicks do in porn. He was like one of those bimbos, he thought, but the idea didn't scare him like he thought. It turned him the fuck on.

"God yes," Ian hissed as Frank started taking that dick into his mouth. "Suck me, Daddy."

Hell, this was fucking with Frank's mind. He bobbed faster and deeper. He choked some and Ian had to tell him to go slower. He did and gradually he got into a good rhythm, a nice balance between speed and depth.

THIS felt incredible, the father decided. Not like those truth-or-dare experiments or those BJ swaps with his high school buddies. This was raw intense sex between meen. Frank was 44 and just now discovering how right this felt for him. He sucked more furiously, happy his gag reflex was holding off. Barely but holding off.

Even as cum pulsed into his throat. Ian didn't bother to announce his orgasm. Didn't matter: Frank would have swallowed that load greedily. He almost didn't want to relinquish that prick, but Ian was getting sensitive.

"Damn... you should definitely treat your son to THAT," he laughed. "That's some great head."

Frank leaned up. He was beyond thinking straight, he was horny as hell and hard in his jeans. "What?" he asked.

Ian grinned. "Dude, you're both such pervs... Tony couldn't stop talking about you the whole time I blew him."

"For real?" Frank asked excitedly, not concealing what he wanted the answer to be.

"For real," the man assured him. Then reading the older man's face, he added, "That turns you on, doesn't it?"

Frank nodded, tears welling up a little, but his dick hard as steel.

Ian grinned and reached down to rub Frank's crotch and unbutton him. "I wanna suck you too, man... first son, then father... total fantasy on a silver platter."

Frank grunted and nodded. And then watched as an experienced cocksucker crouched down and slowly, expertly brought him off to a deep cum.

The two got straightened up and Ian got a suddenly sheepish look on his face. "If I give you my number, will you let me know if anything happens between you two?"

Frank could tell the incest thing was a big turn on for this guy. But was feeling less comfortable now. "I don't know, man."

"Come on... just take my number. You don't have to tell me anything too private. Hell if you just wanna hit me up for some no-strings fun, that's cool."

"Yeah," Frank relented. He had to admit that idea was appealing.

Ian gave a quick wave as he walked past Tony. "Later, man."

"Yep," Tony half waved and went back to watching sports.

Frank realized he had a similarly primal look of sexual satisfaction his son did a while ago. But as he sat down, he realized that maybe something more had transpired that evening. That maybe the genie was out of the bottle.

He looked over at his son. He had the Mazza nose and jaw line, along with some of his mother's good looks. Tony was a stunner, all right, just the kind of young stud that was just "nice" and approachable to get women to put out.

Frank thought about what it would be like to suck his son's cock.

Tony caught his father looking. He glanced over with a wink. "Ian's good, right, Dad?"

Frank blushed and nodded, turning his attention back to the TV and picking up the beer for a much needed gulp. It was half-warm but he didn't care. The man was parched now. "Yep, Tone," he finally replied. "Like you said... the best."

#drakestories

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