#ruthless psycho | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suksatoru · 8 days ago

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being married to sae itoshi meant you were under his care 24/7. sunrise to sundown, all he did was fuss over his precious wife. but when you got pregnant, sae was on a whole other level of pure psycho.

he was always monitoring what you ate—ensuring no bad or spoiled food made contact with your lips. he'd have the highest quality meals brought right to your doorstep on nights you weren't in the mood to cook, and the finest heart shaped chocolates shipped all the way from switzerland waiting for you on your bedside table when you woke up. they were his way of saying sorry when he had to leave his two babies early in the morning due to practice.

you told him your baby had a sweet tooth one night when demanding chocolates at three am, but even as he'd rolled his eyes at your mini tantrum—he was already pulling out his phone and placing a hefty order of your favorite sweets that could probably keep a small village alive through the apocalypse.

whenever you came to his games in the winter or days it was raining, he made sure you were properly bundled up to protect yourself from the biting and ruthless cold. he ignored your whines about looking like a snowman—sae absolutely refused to let you take even a foot outside in bad weather unless you were dressed accordingly. he disliked a lot of things, but anything that may dampen your mood skyrocketed to first place when he learned how much he hated seeing you upset. like, heaven forbid, when you'd catch a cold.

but after learning about your pregnancy, he refused to show up to any game unless they had a private section where you could sit and watch safely. the vip spot simply wasn't enough, he needed to make sure no one else would bother you. you didn't seem to mind—you dragged rin with you to sae's games anyways, and the double protection of the private seating and his brother's presence allowed sae to play his best while at ease.

sae was meticulous in his routine when it came to you. he had his priorities set, and just the prospect of something happening to you made his eye twitch. he was the one in control, and he'd make sure it stayed that way. sure, he babied you beyond belief—spoiling you was an understatement. sae worshipped you, according to rin. sae would shrug at his younger brother's words, but he never did deny the statement.

so, when sae wakes up from the sound of rustling sheets and your pained whines, he's sitting up in an instant. every ounce of tiredness at being awoken from his sleep is thrown out the window when you weakly ask him to get a bag for you as you tell him you're definitely about to throw up.

he carries you to the bathroom, and while he holds your hair back—his mind is racing, running through everything you ate, touched, and breathed in the past few days. did someone else get you sick? you hadn't gone out these past few days, it was one of the rare weekends sae managed to find some free time in his schedule to stay at home with you. rin had visited and spent the night a few days ago, but his brother had been in perfect health. sae knows this because he refused to let poor rin into your shared home until he checked his temperature and vitals.

but pregnancy was something unpredictable. and, unfortunately, not a situation sae could chart out and control. your soft whimpers sounding through the air bring him back to reality as you weakly flush the toilet in front of you, slumping against him.

"gross," your murmur as your eyes flutter close. sae cradles your head to his chest, wrapping his arms around you with a subtle frown on his face. he presses a hand to your forehead, brows furrowing. you're burning up.

"cariño, what hurts?" sae questions, uncharacteristically soft. he runs a hand through your hair—which was damp from your own sweat. you don't give him a verbal response, resorting to letting out a pained cry as you rest your head against his chest. he frowns, tucking an arm under your knees as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to bed.

your left hand rests weakly on the swell of your stomach, and he lays you onto the bed as gently as he possibly can before pressing the softest kiss he can manage onto your scalp.

"stay here. i'll be right back," he assures, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you nod slowly. he walks out of the room quickly—eyes catching the soft illuminating light of his bedside table, where the clock reads 4:28 AM. he dampens a cloth in the kitchen and grabs some painkillers, and he's by your side once again after another minute as he helps you swallow the medicine, carefully adjusting the cool washcloth on your forehead to help relieve some of the stress.

"this is your fault, sae. these are the kicks of a professional footballer," you laugh weakly, and sae huffs. wordlessly, he lays himself back into his spot beside you on the bed before placing a tentative hand on your stomach. and you're right, because sae can feel the gentle kicks under his palm.

"i'm sorry, cariño." is all he says as he glares at your tummy, almost like he's telling the baby inside to behave. you watch him, laughing quietly to yourself.

"it's not like she can see you, silly."

you don't even realize what you've said at first. neither has sae, but as he does—his movements while rubbing your stomach slow to a stop as he tilts his head downwards to meet your gaze. he cocks an amused brow at your words

"she?"

your cheeks heat as you realize what you've said, or what you've implied, really. you didn't know why—but it felt like the baby inside was a girl. sae's eyes twinkle with amusement as he presses a soft kiss onto your stomach

"i was thinking 'sae junior' for a name..."

"oi, don't make me kick you, sae."

his laughter is sleepy and low as he presses a kiss behind your ear, whispering quietly as he wraps the blanket around the two of you tighter.

"glad you're feeling better already. now, sleep."

he doesn't have to tell you twice. your soft breaths even out soon enough, and he makes a mental note to call your doctor in the morning. right now though, it's nearing five am. he usually went out for his morning run at this time—but he decides he'll sleep in today. nothing was better than having his little family safe and sound in between his arms, with the reassuring rise and fall of your chest lulling him back to sleep.

bllk masterlist. (more to come!! :P)

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chuulyssa · 24 days ago

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──── ★ I WANT YOUR FEELING AND EVERYTHING IN YOUR FIBER ──── hwang inho x front(wo)man!reader

teaser you’re left pleasantly surprised when the love you’ve been trying to forget all this while shows up as a participant in your games. even more so when you discover his reason for joining.

starring player!hwang inho x front(wo)man!reader count 3.75k genre dark themes, psycho!reader, yandere!reader, gn!reader, borderline obsession, jealousy, hinted murder, smut but not too much, masturbation, reader is lowkey a creep but aren’t we all, implied angst, cliffhanger ending

a/n we need more of psycho reader content !! everywhere i look i only find yandere characters, WHERE ARE THE YANDERE READERS???

Your eyes froze on the file you had just opened.

Player 132 Name: Hwang Inho Social Security Number: 760202-1171651 Born: 02/02/1976

That date. That name. That face. You knew it. You remembered it all too well. It was as though time stopped. Every smile, every word, every fight that left you breathless in its aftermath — it was all staring right back at you, etched on this piece of paper in your hands.

What the hell was he doing here?

Occupation: Unemployed.

Unemployed? That didn’t make any sense. He had always dreamed of becoming a police officer, and you’d believed in him more than he believed in himself. You could still hear his voice from years ago: “I’ll wear the badge one day, you’ll see. Then I’ll make everything right—everything for us.”

What had happened? Your eyes slid towards the end of the page. You read the word ‘bribery’. Bribe? The Inho you knew would never have done that without a reason.

Your grip on the folder tightened. Where had all that conviction gone? What had happened to his dream?

Your fist clenched and slammed onto a button. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal one of the guards. His mask was a Circle.

“More information on 132. Now,” you spoke, though the mask covering your face made your own voice seem foreign to you.

“Yes, ma’am!” the guard stammered. He straightened up as if scared to upset you, took the file from your hands and bolted to the printer in the corner of your office. The printer hummed faintly, spitting out the file you’d just requested at a slow, tantalizing pace, as if mocking the Circle guard for his nervousness around you.

But what could the guard do? You were ruthless. He had heard you had shot one of the Square guards dead for losing track of the Recruiter’s movements the other day. And the next, you had shot a Triangle one for missing a target during practice.

The sound of your foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor made him second-guess choosing the Red Ddakji. The Circle guard shifted nervously as your pace grew faster. He knew better than to keep you waiting, but what could he do?

The printer finally released the paper, and the guard practically tripped over himself to hand you the file back before flying out of the room. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving you alone with the thick silence of your office. You exhaled sharply, glancing back at the file still sitting on your lap.

Residence: 37-124, Chunghyeon-dong, Seodaemun-gu, Seoul.

You stared at the address for a long moment, lost in thought. He had always had big dreams, and an even bigger ounce of determination to achieve it. Why was he stuck behind in the same place he had grown up? The same place he had sworn he’d leave behind?

Your fingers curled tightly around the folder’s edges. No, waiting for answers wasn’t your style. Not at all now that it had come to him. You stood abruptly, dropping the file on the table in front of you. Slowly, you peeled off the suffocating black coat you wore, and tugged off the hideous mask from your face.

No. This wasn’t something you could leave to a guard or a report. You were going to get your answers yourself. Whatever had led Hwang In-ho to this place — to your games — was something you needed to know.

Something you needed to understand.

And for that, you’d need to go where it all began.

── ★

The streets of Chunghyeon-dong hadn’t changed much. The same cracks in the pavement, the same stubborn weeds sprouting through them, the same faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafting from a distant street vendor. Every turn and every landmark whispered his name, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling of longing and loss that you kept feeling ever since you opened that file on your desk.

You slowed your pace as you neared his address. You didn’t even have to ask for directions. Your feet seemed to carry you wherever the right place was. Your fingers absently pointed at the trees lining the street, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “That’s where we used to sit,” you murmured to yourself. You could still picture it — Inho lounging against the trunk, his head tilted just so as he teased you, pretending to be deep in thought. He’d called it “having a chat,” but it was always more than that.

The corner café wasn’t far, and your steps faltered again when you saw it. It looked so much older now. The paint had faded, and the lights were dull, but it was unmistakably real. You could almost hear his laugh echoing through its walls. Oh, how his hand would brush yours under the table during one of those so-called “study dates.” Because heaven forbid he admit he liked you just as much as you liked him.

And then the park came into view when you turned right. The swings swayed gently in the breeze, taking you back to all those years ago. How many times had you sat there next to him, pretending to be as carefree as he did? How many times had you let him pull you closer — let his lips brush yours just for him to do it all over again?

You shook your head, trying to clear it. Those moments felt like a lifetime ago, but standing here now, it was as if no time had passed at all.

You finally reached his house. It was quiet, too quiet — though you wondered what you had been expecting to see. Of course, he wasn’t here. He was in the games now. The curtains were drawn, and the whole place looked abandoned.

You turned to the neighboring house and knocked on the door. After a few moments, an elderly woman appeared, judging your posh outfit silently.

“Excuse me,” you tried being polite. “I’m looking for Hwang Inho. He lives — well, lived — next door. Do you know where he might be?”

The woman’s expression softened with recognition at the name, but her next words sent a jolt through you. “Oh, that man. He’s been missing for a few days now. Poor soul, after what happened with his wife... I’m not surprised.”

You blinked, your stomach feeling like it was being stabbed by a knife. “His wife?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes, his wife passed away a few years ago. I think it broke him. They were so close, always together. When she died, well... he just wasn’t the same. And now, with him gone, too...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

You could practically hear you heartbeat pound in your ears. Wife? Nowhere in his file was a wife mentioned. Heck, you’d have been okay if you had gotten some sort of wedding invitation — at least it would’ve brought some closure to your love.

The things you were feeling right now. They were ugly. Who was she? What did she mean to him? Was she even half as pretty, as smart as you? Why was she chosen and not you?

“Do you know her name?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, I don’t remember now,” the woman admitted. “But I heard they were going to have a baby, and then she passed away. It’s tragic, really. He was broken.”

Your hands clenched at your sides, your mind racing. A baby? He was about to have a baby with someone else? When he had promised you that you would be the only one in his life? He had gone ahead and done that?

A small part of you laughed at the fact that she had died. Because how could she be able to break through those walls in ways you never could? Served her right.

You forced a polite thank-you and turned away before she could notice the storm brewing inside you.

Who was this wife? What had happened to her? And why had he never told you?

You shook your head. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he was alive — here, in your games. If you wanted to save him, you’d need to unravel the truth, jealousy and all.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find out if there was still room for you in his heart.

── ★

You kept your eyes trained on the screen, your gaze unwavering as you watched him protest during the voting round. You cocked your head to the side, smirking under your mask.

In the first game, he had done fairly well, although you had had to pull a few strings to ensure his survival. Extending the duration of the doll’s singing to let him pass had been easy enough, and the subtle redirection of the triangle guards’ focus away from him wasn’t even noticeable — you were quite sure of that.

But it was his decision now that truly intrigued you. His face lit up with blue light after he pressed the button O. He wanted to stay. Perfect. That meant you would get to see him more.

Although, even if he had chosen to leave, you would still find a way, of course. You would stalk him to eternity if you had to. After all, you had missed sight of him for a few years and he had landed right in your palms. You wouldn’t miss this second chance at all.

Your boots clicked softly against the floor as you walked across the floor of illuminated tiles, each displaying a picture and number of a player. You stopped in front of his. Player 132.

His face stared back at you from the glossy surface. He wasn’t smiling, rather the opposite actually. It was as if he understood that the Squid Game sounded too good to be true. Free money for playing games? There had to be a catch. And he was right.

But he also wasn’t. He wouldn’t die if he lost, after all. He had you to keep him safe, even though he didn’t know that. You kept looking vacantly at his picture. Beautiful, beautiful and untouchable. There was something about him that had always drawn people in, even when he didn’t try.

It definitely drew his “wife” in, you thought bitterly.

Behind you, the faint sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply to find the Circle guard you had sent earlier bowing, a small stack of files balanced by his hands on top of his head.

“Leave it in my cabin,” you said curtly, barely sparing him a glance. He scurried off without hesitation, and you scowled at his retreating figure. Too slow. You hated waiting.

Turning your attention back to the control room, you addressed the guards stationed there. “I need footage of 132,” you said, gesturing at the screen displaying Inho’s face, and your eyes softened when you saw him. “The ddakji with the recruiter, the aftermath, before that — everything. Ten minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the chorus of responses, and the guards immediately set to work.

You strolled back to your cabin. The recruiter’s approach might offer a clue as to how Inho ended up here. What had driven him to this point? What had changed in his life? Or rather, who had changed his life?

You sighed softly. If it hadn’t been for that woman, he wouldn’t have ended up here at all. Then maybe you’d have been able to reconnect without a mask on your face. But then again, if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be here in front of you either.

Whatever had brought him here didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he stayed. That he survived.

And if it took bending every rule in the book, so be it.

── ★

The triangle guard you had politely threatened had done his job fairly well. You had pointed a gun at his head and “requested” that he keep an extra triangle dalgona on hand, just in case Inho broke his. The guard had stammered out a fearful nod. This was obviously against every rule in the book. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t take risks — not when it came to him.

Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. Inho had passed the round with ease. You had kept your eyes on him the entire time. Watching the way he moved, the way he carried himself — every little detail. The small quirks you remembered so well: the subtle clench of his jaw when he was concentrating, the way he would tap his thumb against his thigh when waiting. It was all still there, unchanged by the years.

He wasn’t much of a talker, though, you noticed. He stayed reserved, observing more than engaging with others. That sharp mind of his was working overtime, you could tell. Even during the chaos of the “special games” at night, he had defended himself so bravely, you were practically cooing at the footage.

Flipping through the file in your hands, you skimmed the details you had demanded from the guard earlier. Something about a liver transplant, unborn child, undead wife, high loans—

Wait.

Your eyes froze on the words. Undead wife?

So she was alive? The old woman had lied to you?

You clenched the edge of the file, the paper crumpling under your grip. You felt a flicker of rage at the thought. Had the neighbor been instructed to lie? Or was she simply misinformed? Either way, you had half a mind to go back and put a bullet through her head for wasting your time.

But if the wife was alive, where was she? A hospital, perhaps? That would make sense. If she was sick, then Inho would have a reason to be here — to pay for the bills, to save her.

Oh, poor, poor In-ho.

Your lips curved into a bitter smile as you leaned back against your couch, staring at his image focussed on the video on the screen. What would happen if he won, only to return home and find his dear wife gone?

The thought lingered heavily in your mind. You allowed the corners of your mouth to curl further upward.

You had no intention of letting her — or anyone — stand in the way.

── ★

The suit you had picked for him was immaculate. A deep charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. You had chosen it yourself, despite the wardrobe team’s protests. No one else would have dared to question you, of course — not when you held absolute authority.

It reminded you of the past. Back when the two of you would dress up in your finest clothes just to spin around your tiny, cluttered room. How he would hold you close, laughing as the two of you stumbled over each other’s feet, tripping over discarded books and materials.

The memory hurt more than you cared to admit.

You had wondered for years why he’d left you without a word. Back then, it was an unbearable wound, an unanswered question. But now, you knew the answer. He hadn’t disappeared because of ambition or fear like you had thought. He had left because of her. His wife. His child. His life that he had built without you.

And now you had taken that away from him. What would he do now that he had nothing? Run back to you, just like you had been waiting for all these years. Yet none of that mattered as you watched him now.

He looked devastatingly beautiful in the suit you had chosen. His face was gaunt, shadows carving hollows under his cheekbones. His gaze was darker than you remembered — haunted, like he had seen too much and survived too little. But his face was still untouched. His sharp jawline, his delicate lips, his deep, expressive eyes — they were all as perfect as you remembered. That was all that mattered to you.

The shrill ring of your telephone shattered your thoughts, dragging you away from the screen. With an irritated sigh, you muted the footage and picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Oh Il-nam’s voice came through, and you let out a groan. “You’re walking a very fine line.”

You didn’t bother replying, letting him ramble on.

“The VIPs aren’t pleased,” he continued. “Your blatant favoritism is starting to show. The adjustments to the games, the extra leniency — it’s too obvious. If you keep this up, it won’t just be your job on the line.”

You held the receiver away from your ear, his words fading into the background as your gaze drifted back to the screen. There he was, sitting quietly at the opulent dinner table with the other finalists. The suit hugged his frame perfectly, accentuating every detail you had memorized so long ago.

Before you could stop yourself, you stood. You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do next. You placed the receiver on the table next to you, and began stripping off your dress. Piece by piece. Just like he used to.

You discarded the elegant fabric of rose gold, standing bare before the floor-length mirror in your quarters. The reflection staring back at you was a stranger. Scowling lines etched into your face, your eyes cold and calculating, your body tired. You looked older. Harsher. Someone he might not even recognize anymore.

You pressed a hand to the glass, almost surprised when the person in the mirror repeated your actions. You couldn’t even tell yourself anymore. Was all of this worth it?

But then your eyes flicked back to the screen.

He looked so painfully perfect. The sound of Oh Il-nam’s complaints became white noise in the background. You reached for the phone.

“Done yet, old man?” You said in a bored voice. “Don’t try threatening me. You need me.”

His voice quietened on the other end, and you let out a dark chuckle.

“I don’t give a fuck about your VIPs. If this man survives,” you stared at the screen again, keeping one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, “I will not repeat this ever again.”

“You shall either keep your word and your title, or none of those. If you ever—”

You slammed the receiver down, cutting the call abruptly.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever had.

You poured a glass of wine for yourself. Tilting the glass to your body and letting it pour all over you, you lay down on the couch, still keeping an eye on the screen. You ran a hand down your body, from your cheeks to your neck. From your nipples to your legs. From your thighs to your core. Just like he used to.

You hadn’t done this in years. You couldn’t get off to the sight of anyone but him. And now that you had him, plainly and simply in front of you, you couldn’t miss this opportunity at all. You shifted your body so your mouth could be covered by the couch, and began.

You loved him. Even though he had hurt you.

And you could never bring yourself to take those words back.

── ★

The 2015 Squid Game had ended.

Hwang In-ho had stood at the finish line, battered and broken but alive. He had walked away with the bloodstained briefcase in his hands, containing enough money to rebuild a shattered life — or so he had believed.

You had watched every second of his return home through the monitors. He had entered his small apartment, made a few calls only for his smile to fade promptly, then dropped the briefcase on the floor, and sat in silence. The money didn’t seem to matter to him. Not after everything he’d lost.

You had anticipated this moment with a sick, gleeful longing. His wife was gone. You had seen the death records and confirmed it yourself. The woman he had chosen over you was nothing but a memory now. He didn’t even bother visiting her grave. And that made you smile.

But he was grieving. Grieving over something you had had complete control over. His eyes now carried the weight of loss, and though he hadn’t cried, his silence was deafening. But you didn’t care.

You couldn’t see him with anyone else. The thought of him belonging to another woman had always made the invisible knife in your stomach twist and hurt. And now, you had him all to yourself. Even if he didn’t know it.

The idea of him discovering your hand in all of this sent a thrill down your spine. You had touched yourself to the thought more than twice, chanting his name like a prayer. Poor Inho. He’d be so upset if he ever found out.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was still yours.

The next games were fast approaching. Oh Il-nam had entered your office, and while you might’ve bashed the skull of whoever did so, you couldn’t do it to the superior standing in front of you.

“I trust you’ll stay out of it this time,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Your antics last year nearly cost us everything. No favoritism. No interference. Do you understand?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded anyway, knowing better than to argue.

“I had someone I wanted to introduce you to,” he said when a knock echoed at the door. You frowned, turning toward the sound. “Come in,” Ilnam said, almost amused.

The door opened, and your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Hwang Inho stood there, dressed in a sharp black suit, his face calm and unreadable. He looked different. Stronger. Colder.

For the second time in less than a year, you found yourself wondering: What the fuck was he doing here?

“This is Hwang Inho,” Ilnam said, gesturing toward him. “He’s the new Frontman.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. The world tilted on its axis, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“He’ll be replacing you,” Il-nam continued. Then, with a sly smile, he added to Inho. “Your assistant,” he gestured towards you, and your eyes snapped back to him.

If he wasn’t your superior, you would’ve broken his bones. They looked pretty fragile anyway.

Inho extended a hand toward you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly. “What’s your name?”

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lilrebelkat69 · 7 months ago

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#ruthless psycho #songs #stfu #facts #real life #real talk #this is me

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themultifanshipper · 1 month ago

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Ollie was the kind of guy who always managed to put everyone in a good mood, and his colleagues waved him goodbye with a smile.

They were all blissfully unaware of what he had waiting for him when he got home.

Warnings: smut, bdsm themes, restraints, oral, toys, probably very ooc but this is just self indulgence at it's finest okay

Everyone loved Ollie. They viewed him as a baby-faced rookie, just like Kimi, Gabriel, Jack etc��

He was adorable, a real sweetheart. He had a gummy smile and got easily shy around people.

He was self-conscious about a lot of things, and a few older drivers had taken him under their wing, he was just so charming in a cute and innocent way.

But no one knew.

No one even suspected.

No one had any inkling whatsoever, of what he was like outside of racing…

He smiled at his taxi driver politely, giving him a generous tip before climbing out.

He opened the door to his apartment, put down his bags, took his shoes off, washed his hands, and made his way towards the bedroom.

He put an ear against the door as he listened to the sounds coming from inside.

He could hear the slight whirring sound of a machine, not unlike the sounds that surrounded him at work.

He pushed open the door quietly, and the sounds of your whimpers were suddenly audible.

Music to his ears.

There you were, hogtied in the middle of the bed, silently crying with a ball gag in your mouth, while a machine pumped a thick dildo in and out of you.

Perfect. Just how he'd left you that morning.

Because let it be known that Oliver Bearman was not as innocent as he looked.

He was a very sweet person, but in bed, he could be an absolute monster.

“Hello, darling” he smirked, walking over to you and placed a warm hand on your thigh, squeezing your flesh lightly.

You moaned and your eyes rolled back into your skull as another orgasm washed over you at the contact.

He let out a shaky exhale, you were so good. Such a good girl for him.

He watched as your cunt stretched around the silicone still pumping in and out of you, and he was very tempted to replace it with his own cock.

But he knew he would come immediately if he did, given how he'd been at least half hard all day at the thought of you all fucked out on his bed.

And he didn't want to give you the satisfaction.

You'd lost count of how many orgasms you'd had. It had been about seven hours since he'd tied you up, and the bed was soaked. Your thighs were covered in your own cream, as was the impressive thickness that had just sped up its movements, making your breath hitch.

He'd set the machine up so that it slowed down and sped up at certain intervals, just to drive you that much crazier.

You thought you were going to pass out, your muscles ached after being tied up for so long, and the sheen of sweat on your body was starting to feel uncomfortably tacky on your skin.

This was all a punishment.

For flirting with some of his fellow drivers at a race last week, and then denying it when Ollie confronted you.

First it was Charles, then it was Kimi of all fucking people, and then it was Esteban. The new teammate. The three people you knew would make Ollie the most angry. And he knew exactly what you were trying to do.

Because Ollie may have been a perfect little prince outside, but behind closed doors, he was jealous, and petty, and ruthless.

You'd agreed to this punishment beforehand of course, Ollie wasn't a complete psycho.

He was a bit of a sadist though, and the sight of your tears streaming down your face, along with a puddle of drool, made something deep inside him purr with satisfaction.

Your muscles tensed and untensed, the pleasure overwhelming after all this time.

He took the gag out of your mouth first, and you immediately started gasping and pleading with him.

“Please Ollie! Please I'll never do it again, I'm sorry, fuck-“

He stroked your cheek tenderly with his thumb and pouted mockingly at you.

“Are you sure you've learned your lesson?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes! Yes Ollie, please! Oh my god- I can't come again, please!”

He tapped your cheek condescendingly.

“Okay, I'll stop the machine…”

He did so, making you sigh in relief, and pushed it out of the way so that he could slot himself in between your legs.

“… but I'm going to make you come again no matter what”

You wailed when his tongue made contact with your puffy clit.

Despite it not having been stimulated at all in the past few hours, it felt over sensitive and you tried to squirm away, but it was no use.

Even if you hadn't been tied up, you were no match for his strength as he pulled you closer by the ropes that bound your legs.

He was eating you out like a man starved, slurping up all your juices and nosing at your clit as he went, moaning at finally getting a taste of you.

It took no time at all for you to reach your final orgasm, and it took everything out of you, making you shake like a leaf under him.

When it was over your body felt like lead and you looked up at the ceiling with hooded eyes, on the verge of falling asleep.

“Don't you dare” he chuckled “You can't fall asleep before I've cuddled you for at least an hour!”

You laughed weakly.

He untied you slowly, making sure to not rush it so that you could regain the feeling in your limbs bit by bit before needing to move them.

He then ran a bath, then brought you a glass of water and a small snack, before helping you to your feet.

Your legs wobbled, and he decided it would be better to carry you to the bath, so he did, all the while peppering sweet kisses to your face.

You giggled at his attentiveness. He giggled at your adorable laugh.

Later, in bed, he stared at you lovingly as you drifted in and out of consciousness, with a huge smile on his face.

He had a hand running through your hair while the other held you against his chest.

You felt his gaze and opened your eyes, smiling back up at him sleepily.

“I love you so much” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too, Ollie” you leaned up to kiss him softly before snuggling into his arms.

Because Ollie may have been a bit sick in the head, but above all, he was a loving, caring boyfriend who would do absolutely anything for you.

#my thots #ollie thots #ollie bearman #ollie bearman smut #f1 #formula 1 #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman smut

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 months ago

Text

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece.

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for.

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them.

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you.

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame.

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips.

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words.

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit.

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.”

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight.

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready.

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did.

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here.

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain.

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in.

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you.

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events.

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.”

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.”

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm.

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to.

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect.

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle.

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love.

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day.

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.”

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas.

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit.

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way.

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain.

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you.

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy.

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out.

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his.

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go.

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold.

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs.

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth.

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands.

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him.

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist.

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length.

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him.

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye.

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder.

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #yunho x you #yunho x reader #yunho smut #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez au

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casiia · 2 years ago

Note

virgin!ethan landry buying condoms before attending a party with chad (idk this would be so funny and awkward😭😭😭)

[ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞 ੈ✩‧₊˚]

pairing .: ethan landry x reader

genre .: suggestive

word count .: 3k

warnings .: suggestive content (minors dni.), female reader, alcohol indulgence, dry humping

author's note .: SORRY NO SMUT! just a lot of plot! but i had soo much fun writing this, whoever requested this i think you’re so funny! i originally was going to add smut but lack of motivation. my little nerd boy psycho getting teased by shirtless farmer chad makes me giggle. but i hope you guys love this as much as i do because i’m giggling soso bad. also i don’t have a dick i’ve never bought condoms b4 so i tried my best errr. also also guys please b careful when drinking at parties. this is just a lot of plot and lowkey ethan x chad (im slash jay) but if enough people want it i will write smut in a part 2.

“wait why are you turning? we’re supposed to go down this street for another light.”

the muted sound of rain echoes inside the car; droplets of water splattering against the fogged windshield blurred the bright traffic lights, a mixture of green and red reflecting against the dash.

“pitstop. gotta pick up some stuff.” chad taps his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently – waiting for the light to turn green. his thumb smooths over the grooves that were engraved in the leather, frustration threatening to expose from his composed state. “get the fuck off your phone! go, the light is green.”

“pick up stuff? not drugs, right…?” ethan looks up from his phone, his illuminated screen lighting his features from the shadows of the night. with a buzz, he focuses his attention back to his device. a smile graces his lips as he reads over your notification, fingers moving quick to type a response to you.

“no, not drugs. condoms.”

adjusting the seat belt that suddenly became uncomfortable around his neck, ethan swallows thickly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “oh.”

“i mean, you’re gonna need them. i doubt nothing’s gonna happen between you and her tonight.” pulling into the lot, chad cheekily smiles over to his friend, playfully hitting his arm.

“w-what? we aren’t anything serious, i don’t think she looks at me like that.” leaning towards the window to escape chad’s ruthless teasing, he resisted the urge to check the notification that had vibrated his phone – knowing it was from you.

“she definitely does, she’s always giving you that look.” throwing his hands up in gratitude when he found a parking spot, chad carefully pulled into the tight spot. “you guys are so annoying, everyone can see it but you two.”

“what look?” unbuckling his seat belt with a click, ethan chews on his bottom lip to stop the smile that threatened to show on his face.

“the ‘i want to fuck you’ look.” turning the engine off with the twist of a key, chad unbuckles and climbs out of the car. “just fuck already, what’s stopping you.” watching ethan take off the cardboard helmet of his costume, he chuckles lightly. “i mean, she wants to fuck a guy dressed up as a cardboard robot.”

“hey. it’s from that movie murder party, and maybe put on a shirt before you comment on my costume.” opening the passenger door, ethan reaches into the back seat, grabbing a plain white tank and tossing it to the shirtless farmer standing in the drizzling rain.

“oh right.”

“i don’t think there is a ‘fuck me look’ i think you’re thinking way into things.” stepping out and shutting the door, ethan stuffs his phone and wallet into his back pocket, walking towards the pharmacy with long strides to avoid the rain.

“what would you know, you’re a virgin.” locking the car with a loud beep, chad swings his lanyard around his fingers, letting his keys jangle against each other carelessly. laughing loudly when he catches a glimpse of ethan’s shocked expression, he holds his hands out in reassurance. “well i mean, after tonight you won’t be.”

“i’m not gonna do anything with her unless she wants me to.” walking past the automated doors, he waits for chad to walk in front of him, not wanting to waste time and lead the two into the wrong aisle.

“well of course, but it’s better to be safe than sorry at the end of the night. don’t wanna get her pregnant or anything.” chad grins, walking towards an aisle in the back – almost too easily, like he’s been here a million times.

“right. how do you…put one on?” glancing at the many colorful boxes to his left, he clears his throat when turning to his right, staring at the shelf of the pregnancy test.

“open the wrapper, careful not to rip it that’s important, then just slide it on. if it’s that much trouble just ask the girl.” chad hums to the music playing overhead in the store, squatting down to get a peak at the bottom shelves.

“oh, okay. what about lube, think i’ll need that?” eyeing the different brands of condoms, he feels his phone buzz again, the weight of his phone all of a sudden feeling heavy in his pants.

2 messages from angel girl

ethan smiles at the notifications, quickly swiping into his phone to answer you. warmth bubbles in his chest as he replies, watching his message turn from sent to read in just a second.

“hey, are you listening to me?”

“huh?” looking up from his phone, his smile drops, snapping out of his dazed state.

“i said, lube is a waste of money. just use spit, works the same if you can also get her wet.” picking up a box of magnums, chad stands from his squatted position, patting out the creases in his pants before heading to the register. “there’s nothing to be worried about, bro. just make sure you focus when it happens, stay in the moment. the usual.”

“mhm.” now very anxious, ethan trails behind his roommate with twisted fingers. “maybe i should take the costume off?” picking at the hem of his shirt under the cardboard vest, he laughs awkwardly; imagining you taking his ridiculous costume off before climbing under the blankets had him shaking his head.

“maybe just keep the helmet, can’t not dress up at a halloween party.” grabbing his wallet from his pocket once they reached the self checkout machines, he scanned the box before swiping his card. “we should go, mindy’s been on my ass.”

the two of them ran to the car, seeking shelter from the rain that turned from a light drizzle to a thundering pour. ethan ran his hands through his hair, combing his damp brown hair out of his face. leaning back into the leather seat with a huff, he groaned dragging his hands down his cheeks, the cardboard around his chest stiffening his movements.

slipping his arms into the cut out holes, he shimmied the fake armor over his head and let it clumsily fall into the back seat. memories of you and him making the costume made him frown; he thought back to how pretty you look with ruffled hair, sitting on his bedroom floor in only pajamas, cutting away at the cardboard material with kid scissors, cursing at him when he accidentally cut out of the traced lines.

the loud crinkle of plastic strips him of his thoughts, chad loudly tearing into the box. “take a few. i’m just gonna leave the box in the car…for later.”

“think you’re gonna end up with tara tonight?” ethan teases with a smirk. picking at the golden packs, he holds them up to the window, letting the plastic shine against the dull streetlight.

“shut up, now strap in. we’re already late i cannot take another text from mindy.”

the far-off sound of music caught ethan’s attention as chad pulled into the neighborhood, a variety of cars piled into the driveway and along the street, lights flashing from the windows inside the house.

grabbing his poorly made helmet made of cardboard, he slipped it over his head, making sure it sat comfortably and evenly on top of his hair.

“did tara tell you what she was gonna wear?” checking his phone for your notification, ethan frowned slightly when finding out you had left him on read. he was only a few paces from the house, where he would soon find you. although the more he thought of you, the more the nerves began to eat at him. would you even want to sleep with him, what if he was going to make a fool of himself – what if you friendzoned him. rubbing his forehead with a sigh, he stuffed a few condoms into his pockets, his heart beating out of his chest.

“pirate i think, wanted to match but it was too last minute. what about your girl?” making sure the car was locked after they had got out, chad shoves his keys into his pants, letting the lanyard hang within view.

“she didn’t want to tell me, said it was gonna be a surprise.” feeling his heartbeat in his ears, ethan balled his fist tightly, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. he didn’t want to mess things up with you, he was scared – scared that he would mess things up and lose the best person that had ever shown up in his life.

“relax, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“i’m trying, i’m just nervous. i don’t want things to go the wrong way tonight, what if i misread her.” stopping outside the door, he could hear the roar of music, walls vibrating with each base drop. the faint smell of marijuana and alcohol tickled his nose, his face churning immediately at the unpleasant smell.

“whatever happens is for a reason, don’t make sex your first priority. if she wants to fuck you, which im sure she does, she’ll make it clear. stop worrying.” chad places a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, squeezing comfortably.

“right. make sure i don’t drink too much? i actually want to remember this night.” taking one last deep breath, ethan turns the knob on the door, finally arriving at the party. an overwhelming amount of people crowded the kitchen, abandoned red solo cups lingering all over the house.

pushing through the crowd of people with curt apologies, ethan scanned over the horde of tipsy college students, looking for your face in the midst of it all. relaxing a bit when he saw anika in the corner of the room with mindy, he glanced over his shoulder to see if chad was following him before nudging his way through to his friends across the room.

“where have you guys been? i thought we agreed to be here 45 minutes ago!” mindy throws exasperated hands in the air, eyebrows raised mockingly.

“traffic. where’s y/n?” frowning when he didn’t see you amongst the other girls, he turned back to the kitchen to see if you were stuffed in there.

“she was here a second ago.i think she went to ask tara if she knew where you were, but honestly who knows where that little pirate could be.” anika shrugs lightly at the question, repositioning her legs over her girlfriend’s. “what’s going on with you two anyways?”

“noth-”

“ethan?”

spinning on his heel at the sound of your voice, he can’t help but let a smile paint his lips. his voice catching in his throat when he sees you, he drops his arms to his side. jaw dropping ever so slightly, he couldn’t stop the way he looked you up and down, engraving your image in the back of his mind.

you were head to toe in white; high socks that squeezed the fat of your thighs, a white mini skirt that just barely covered the curve of your ass, a semi see through corset, and to top it all off – a pair of small feathery wings that sat on your exposed shoulders.

“an angel.”

“surprise! where’s the rest of your costume? we worked so hard on it.” stepping closer to him to fix his lopsided helmet, you brushed hair out of his eyes with a pout.

“left it in the car, didn’t want it to get ruined or anything.” looking down at you with a smile, he lets his hands wander to your hips; his thumbs caressing your skin just above the waistline of your short mini skirt.

“oh, that’s a shame. you looked so cute in it.” pinching his cheeks in a playful manner, you bit your lip with a laugh, watching him squirm away from you. “let’s get a drink, i’ve been waiting for you.”

grabbing his hand in your left, you intertwined your fingers together, pulling him to the crowded kitchen. half filled bottles and empty plastic cups littered the marble countertop, a sticky residue sheening over the surface of the table.

“hm, i think there’s enough for a couple shots.”

letting go of his hand but still keeping him close, you leaned over the island to grab cups; unscrewing the cap of a half empty vodka bottle, you chewed your lip in concentration, completely eyeballing the amount of liquor you poured into the plastic cup.

“bottoms up, baby!” bringing the cup up to your lips, you cringed lightly, the smell of alcohol making your eyes water. squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you tilted your head back letting the liquid flow into your mouth before swallowing. shaking your head with a groan, you stuck your tongue out feeling the booze burn down your throat, almost instantly warming your chest. “so gross.”

ethan hesitated before drinking the foul smelling alcohol, coughing abruptly afterwards. “not worth it.” hearing you laugh at him, he teasingly shoved your shoulder with a soft smile. “do you think…we could talk?”

“we’re talking right now, pretty boy.” starting to pour another round of shots, you briefly glanced up at him at his silence. “is something wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong, i just meant talk in private.” taking off his fake helmet, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck – patiently waiting for you to finish taking another shot before replying.

“let’s go upstairs.” wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you tossed your now empty cups in the trash before grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the house. music blaring uncomfortably in your ear, you took in your surroundings before leaving; people at every inch of the house, a line forming for the bathroom, corners where couples made out, and a couch where all of your friends sat. catching chad’s eye, he gave you a knowing smirk while raising his eyebrows. flipping him off in return, you squeezed ethan’s wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs and to an empty bedroom.

ethan tried his hardest not to look up your skirt while you walked in front of him, but of course he failed. he caught a glimpse of your undergarments – pretty pink panties with a white lace lining the edges. swallowing his guilt, he shifted his gaze back to the ground, fearing that he would get worked up the longer he stared. “do you know where you’re going?”

“not in the slightest, but it’s a big house, there’s bound to be one more vacant bedroom.” jiggling the knobs of each door, you giggled quietly hearing the muted moans from inside occupied rooms. “oh here.” twisting the handle and peeking inside, you opened the door for him when deeming it was clear.

closing and locking the door behind you, you made your way over to the bed, sitting on the edge with your hands neatly folded in your lap. “what’s on your mind? you’re kinda scaring me.”

dropping his costume prop near the door, ethan covered his face, groaning into his hands before finally piling up enough courage to look you in the eye. “what are we?”

“what do you mean?” furrowing your brows with an awkward laugh, you could feel heat creep up your neck, the liquor settling in your stomach.

“you’re always calling me these names, and touching me in ways you don’t do with anyone else. i just want to know if you’re playing with me.” sitting next to you on the bed, he kept a fair distance respecting your boundaries. “i like you a lot. more than i want to, i need to know if you feel the same.”

“i-” sighing loudly with shaky hands, you shifted your position, sitting on your knees while facing him. the hem of your skirt creeping up your thighs as you sat back. “i like you too, i just didn’t know how to tell you.” crawling closer to him, you reached for his hand, pressing his palm to your heart. “this is how you make me feel. all the time.”

“can i kiss you?”

nodding with a big grin, you let him lean forward to connect your lips. putting a hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself, you hummed softly feeling him pull you closer, straight into his lap. the kiss was sweet and soft, lips moving slowly against each other, teeth clashing together with inexperience. you wrapped your arms around his neck, slightly grinding your hips down into his. “fuck, sorry.”

whining into your mouth, ethan squeezed your hips harshly. “no, please. again, m’felt good.” pulling away from your lips with a heavy pant, he cupped your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“yeah? s’that why you brought me up here?” giggling, you rolled your hips again, the seam of his pants nudging at your clothed clit. lips parting with a quiet moan, you bit the inside of your cheek, a blush painting your cheeks.

“maybe.” tilting your head up with his thumb, he pressed kisses down your exposed neck, nibbling and sucking numerous marks along the way. “fuck, i want you.” slipping his hand down your back, he squeezed the fat of your ass, mumbling against your neck.

“i know, baby. but not tonight.” pushing him away just enough to see his face, you pressed a sweet kiss to the button of his nose. “want your first time to be something you’ll remember, not even a little bit fuzzy.”

opening his mouth in protest, you shook your head – your opinion already set in stone. pecking his lips one last time, you climbed off of his lap.

“you’re such a tease”

🏷 .:@loaksbitch @sullybby @dilfverz my stinkies

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little-diable · 10 months ago

Text

May thy knife – Feyd-Rautha (smut)

This is y'alls fault, all your comments made me write this. So, here we go, psychotic reader is back, but with a somewhat loving relationship. It felt only right to twist this famous scene – I'm sure this has been done before but I haven't read a fic that takes on this twist just yet, so I'm in no means copying any fic out there. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if the reader, who is married to Feyd-Rautha, didn't know that Paul, her brother, was still alive? What if it was her fighting against him instead of Feyd – all for revenge, to make her brother feel the same pain he had forced her to feel with his faked death?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), willingly rough loss of virginity, choking, dom!Feyd, degrading, spitting, fighting, passing out, blood licking, knife licking, reader is a psycho fitting Feyd, yet there's some form of love between the two, and no, I ain't killing us so we survive the fight

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!Atreides!reader (4.2k words)

The hatred she emanated was felt by all people surrounding her, people who didn’t dare meet her icy gaze – not even the emperor dared to turn towards (y/n). It was a wise decision, for the sake of all their lives, knowing that she could rob their soul and their last breath even without any weapons on her.

It had only been a few minutes since they had been taken prisoner, and while (y/n) could have easily fought her way out of the tight grasp, she hadn’t been able to move. Frozen to her spot as she had never been before, unable to move as her eyes followed the frame of the Muad’Dib. Paul Atreides. Her brother. The man she had believed to be dead for endless weeks. The prophet who hadn’t spotted her in the small crowd.

Not even Feyd-Rautha’s closeness had managed to rile her up at that moment, the man she had been forced to marry, the man she hadn’t allowed to touch her, not even on their wedding night. It hadn’t taken him long to accept that she’d cut off his hands should he touch her, speaking lies to the Baron to answer private questions that had left (y/n)’s insides churning. Feyd had protected her even when she went against a simple contract, lured closer by the darkness she carried deep within herself.

She had made too many sacrifices for her brother and their mother’s lies, tossed away for a strategic marriage she hadn’t been prepared for. All to mourn her brother who was still alive and breathing, guiding those who saw the prophet in him.

“You’re quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, wife.” Feyd’s breath teased her neck, he stood with his armoured front pressed against her back, hands resting on her waist. It was a dangerous game, a game she didn’t buy into, too focused on her racing mind. Feyd gave (y/n) another moment to push him away, just like she had always done – but she didn’t, she kept herself pressed against him as if he was an anchor saving her from drowning. “What are you planning?”

“How I will kill the Muad’Dib.” Not one ounce of love thumped through her veins, an emotion she had once held onto, at least for her older brother; a love that had frozen in her system the second she had heard his voice ring in her ears minutes ago. Feyd’s raspy chuckles left her skin tingling, adding fuel to the fire simmering deep inside of her.

For a moment, (y/n) allowed herself to focus on her husband’s touch, how he held onto her, tight enough to send a clear message to wandering eyes. He may have not claimed her behind closed doors, addicted to their game of back-and-forth, but to all those eyes, she was his as he was hers, a ruthless husband to a cunning wife.

“You know, I am always excited for a fight.” She wanted to reply, wanted to tease him for fighting against drugged prisoners who never stood a chance against him, but the second his cold lips met her throat, her words were lost on her sharp tongue. Her heart roared in her chest, not used to being kissed by Feyd, not after their first and only kiss in front of their wedding guests.

“You won’t fight. This is between my brother and me.” (Y/n) turned in Feyd’s grasp, letting her eyes wander over her husband’s features. He was handsome, she had always been drawn to him, and yet something had always held her back – the fear of being tied down by a man who perfectly matched her ruthless ways, a man who would rather kill himself than back down from a fight, just like (y/n). They were too similar, a scary realisation she had been forced to face many moons ago.

“I will let you fight, wife, but for that, I get to claim you tonight.” The mischief twinkling in his bright pupils pushed anger through her, anger clashing against lust. Her mind didn’t get to interfere as (y/n) shifted her weight onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She pulled away before Feyd could deepen the kiss, heart roaring in her chest as if it was communicating with his.

“You’ll have to lick my brother’s blood off me before you get to touch me.” Her words were meant as a warning, a warning Feyd clearly found enjoyment in. And with his raspy laugh echoing through the room, she found herself thrown back into her darkening mindset, preparing for a fight against her brother.

……

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me?” Paul’s voice filled the room. She didn’t see much of his frame, standing behind Feyd to shield herself from her brother’s and her mother’s eyes. She hated the way her fingers trembled, urged on by her anger, by her sadness, emotions flushing through her like poison set to kill her. “They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think? I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis.”

She wanted to shoot forward, wanted to throw herself against her brother’s frame to force him to his knees. But the hand Feyd pressed against her stomach to hold her back was enough to stay glued to her spot. The time wasn’t right just yet.

“Gurney, send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields.” Paul’s words left most of the people surrounding (y/n) tensing, words that were about to force a laugh out of her. She could feel and see her mother’s influence on Paul, forming him into the son she had always dreamt him to be.

“You’re out of your mind.” The Emperor’s slightly trembling voice drew a smirk to both (y/n) and Feyd’s lips, they got a taste of the chaos soon unfolding in front of them, drawing a sick sense of satisfaction and anticipation through the couple.

“He’s bluffing.” She couldn’t stop a soft laugh from leaving her at her husband’s words, urged on by the need to stand even closer. Her body was guiding her without giving her mind a chance to protest as her hand found Feyd’s. She was still covered by his tall frame, and yet she felt him freezing for just a second as she interlaced their hands.

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides.” Within seconds, the voice filled their ears, forcing the Reverend Mother to lose her balance. No longer could (y/n) focus on the exchange between Paul and the Emperor, no longer could she focus on Feyd whose hand she had dropped once again. (Y/n) knew that the time was finally right, it was now or never, a fight that would end with either her’s or her brother’s life on the line.

“Stand or choose your champion.” Those were the words that ripped (y/n) out of her trance, pushing past her husband. She didn’t see how Feyd’s fingers twitched, having to stop himself from reaching for her, to stop (y/n) from fighting a battle he had been destined for.

“I’m here, Paul.” (Y/n) spoke the words with venom dripping from her voice, watching her brother’s bright pupils widen. From the corner of her eye, she could watch her mother shoot to her feet, and yet (y/n) didn’t dare let her gaze wander, enjoying the realisation that began to widen on her brother’s panicked features. “I need a blade.”

“Accept mine.” She didn’t rip her eyes from her brother’s to look at the Emperor, seizing the chance to read Paul well enough to tell her that he fought an inner battle. Paul whispered her name as he slightly shook his head, begging his sister to step away. Her tongue kissed her teeth as a blood-curdling smile widened on her lips, she didn’t need to speak up to tell Paul that she’d try everything she could to kill him, a simple act of revenge for leaving her, for forgetting her, for playing her.

With a slow nod thrown her way, seemingly accepting her will to fight, Paul turned from (y/n) to walk back towards his people. Only Feyd’s hand on her waist managed to rip her gaze from her brother’s frame, “Make me proud wife. Kill him.”

Feyd squeezed her waist as he pressed a harsh kiss to her lips, a clear signal for all those who were watching their interaction. He’d kill them all should she die, avenge her death as if it was his own life they tried to take. Without speaking another word, (y/n) pushed Feyd away from her, she tightened her grip on the Emperor’s blade, and let her feet carry her towards her brother.

“(Y/n),” Paul’s choked-up voice drew a humourless chuckle out of her. For a moment, she allowed her gaze to stray, to look at their pregnant mother and the unreadable expression she wore. (Y/n) had never been the favourite child, even though she was the girl Jessica had been asked to birth. She had always been too ruthless, too cold, too cunning for their family, the outcast who had been married to Feyd at the first given chance.

“Say it.” (Y/n)’s words were venomous, spat at her brother whose pained expression made him appear even more pathetic in her eyes. She wanted Paul to speak the words, words the siblings had spoken as mere children whenever they challenged one another into a play fight. Paul kept quiet, unable to part his lips until she almost screamed her words, “Say it!”

“May thy knife chip and shatter.” Paul’s voice trembled as he spoke the words, momentarily closing his eyes as if he struggled to accept their fate, to accept that he was expected to kill his beloved sister, unable to back down from a fight like this. She repeated the words much slower than Paul had, with a dangerous smile tugging on her lips – no longer did (y/n) care about her own life, about the mere chance of dying in her brother’s arms. She was hungry for revenge, to make him feel the pain she had been forced to carry deep within herself these past weeks.

And then everything began to blur, one attack after another, one strike after another, one stumble after another. She felt all their eyes on them as they fought, but (y/n) couldn’t give into the temptation to study the crowd, searching for Feyd’s eyes that were glistening with adoration for his wife. A woman fighting like a snake, slithering along Paul’s body to squeeze him to death.

Only as Paul’s knife cut (y/n)’s skin for the first time did her world begin to slow down, momentarily stopping its spinning motion. Paul seemed to freeze just like she did, focusing on the blood pouring from the wound. Perhaps he expected her to back down, to leave the circle to search for her husband’s protection. But (y/n) did something she had studied her husband do one too many times: Her fingers found her wound, picking up the drops of blood to suck her fingers clean, high on the coppery taste. Feyd’s laughter rang in her ears as she attacked her brother once again, faster this time, even more ruthless than the rounds before.

With blood sticking to her lips, (y/n) and Paul kept circling one another – all until she seized her chance to ram her knife into his side. Paul’s gasp forced their mother to her feet once again, searching her daughter’s eyes to shake her head, a silent warning not to kill her brother, a silent gesture that they wouldn’t mourn her death, only Paul’s. But while her mother’s eyes carried a clear warning, Feyd’s carried encouragement, asking his wife to end this right there and then.

A moment of distraction that gave her brother the chance to slice his blade through her skin, forcing it to nestle inside her stomach. Both siblings held onto one another, glassy eyes finding back together as neither loosened their grip.

“Do it, kill me. Feel the pain you’ve forced me to feel, feel the grief that has almost killed me.” Tears dripped from (y/n)’s eyes as she choked on her blood, knowing that she’d pass out any moment now. And even though she felt the darkness creeping through her veins, telling her that it was time to bid this life goodbye, a smile began to widen on her lips.

This was the moment she had imagined all these weeks, it was finally upon them.

Slowly Paul sacked to the ground with (y/n) clinging to him, holding onto her as he lifted his teary gaze. She didn’t see the way her brother's panicked gaze looked around the room, didn’t see the way his eyes found Feyd’s rage-filled ones, luring her husband closer. All she could focus on were the tears dripping from Paul’s bright eyes, holding back his sobs as Feyd kneeled next to them.

“Do whatever you must, save my sister.”

……

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open. It took her a moment to focus on her surroundings, the grey walls, the dim light, and the figure standing close to her bed. Pain shot through her as she tried to move, forced to plop back down onto the mattress with a curse clawing through her.

“You’re finally awake.” Feyd’s raspy voice drew a whimper from (y/n)’s chapped lips, eyes momentarily fluttering close to try and remind herself of what had happened. “You almost died, killed by your foolish brother who has never fought fair before. I should have killed him for hurting you.”

“Come here.” (Y/n) ignored her husband’s words, not daring to think of her brother, of their fight, and of the blood she had lost. Wordlessly, Feyd came to a halt next to her, staring down at her to wait for (y/n)’s next command. With another gasp roaring through her, she shuffled around on the bed, making space for her husband to lay next to her. “If you tell others of this I will kill you.”

His chuckles filled the room as he carefully placed himself next to her. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, giving the married couple a chance to be close to one another for the first time, without any eyes on them, without hatred urging words to leave their cold lips.

Feyd’s hand slightly trembled as he reached for her no longer bloody fingers, slowly interlacing them. Never had he done this before, reaching for her without any further message to communicate, holding onto her for the mere chance to be close to her.

“What happened to Paul?” Pain clawed through her at the thought of her brother. Anger had forced her to act, anger she hadn’t been able to swallow until now, unsure how to accept that her family had lied to her.

“Don’t worry about him for now.” Feyd didn’t tell her how he had left the planet with her, how he had brought her away from that place. Feyd didn’t tell her how he had sworn to Paul that he’d avenge (y/n)’s death should she die. Feyd didn’t tell her how Paul had told others to let them go, not knowing where Feyd was taking (y/n), not knowing if he’d ever see his sister again.

And at that very moment, (y/n) didn’t find the strength to ask another question, the strength she would regain soon enough to find her path back to her cunning self, set on ending the ruleless game between her and her family.

……

“Fight like a Harkonnen for fuck’s sake!” Anger pushed her words past her clenched teeth. Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead as she stared at her husband with spite swimming in her pupils. She knew Feyd was holding back, not trusting that (y/n) had regained her full strength just yet, the strength she’d need to force him to his knees in a training session like this.

“Wife.” It was a warning he spoke, a warning not to rile him up even further, knowing that he’d lose his patience soon enough. (Y/n) darted at her husband, her body collided with his to throw them both to the ground. She straddled his waist with a grim expression tugging on her features, knowing that in any other scenario, she wouldn’t have been able to attack Feyd like that. “Fine, this is your own fault, darling.”

Feyd harshly pushed her off him, momentarily robbing his wife of her breath as her back collided with the cold ground. He rose to his feet with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists – the version of her husband (y/n) desperately had tried to trigger. They circled one another, holding onto their blades with twitching fingers, set on regaining the upper hand.

Now it was on Feyd to attack first, his blade met hers over and over again, until he cut her cheek, drawing a hiss out of (y/n). She was heavily panting as he chuckled, bringing the bloody tip of his blade up to his pale lips to lick it clean, moaning at the taste of her blood.

Something began to shift at that moment, something that forced her to drop her blade, to throw herself into his grasp and to kiss him. Both fell back to the ground, allowing Feyd to cage her between the floor and his frame. His hand found her throat to keep her pinned down beneath him, all while their tongues fought for victory.

(Y/n) tightened her legs' grasp around his waist to pull him even closer, moaning at the way he ground his hips against hers, making her feel his hardening cock straining against his tight trousers. Everything about this moment was new to her, unsure of where to go from there without any experience guiding her, not knowing how to touch her husband. And yet, everything seemed to come almost naturally to her, trusting her body and Feyd to push her through the soaring waves of heat filling her trembling body.

“I should have fucked you months ago. You had your chance, but now I won’t be gentle with you, I will fuck you as a woman like you deserves to be fucked.” His words shot heat straight to her core, words that forced her to hold still as Feyd kept manhandling her, cutting her shirt open with his blade. The groan that left him at the sight of her naked chest made (y/nn) back arch, desperate to feel his hands on her. “I should tie you up, keep you as my toy to claim whenever I am hungry for you. I bet you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“I hate you!” It was nothing but a lie, a lie both easily saw through, but at that very moment neither Feyd nor (y/n) cared about pleasantries, urged on by their desires. He cut open her trousers before another curse could leave her, exposing her arousal-covered folds to his darkening eyes. Tonight he’d litter her in bruises. Tonight he’d force her to follow his rules. Tonight he’d show her his most ruthless side.

“Hate me all you want, wife, your body still craves the touch of your husband. You’re dripping for me.” He didn’t warn her before he plunged two fingers into her tightness, feeling her walls flutter around his digits. Feyd held eye contact with her as he spat on her cunt, rubbing his saliva against her pulsing bundle. (Y/n)’s moans rang in his ears, urging him on as if he was high on spice, blurring out their surroundings, blurring out the calmness they were now disturbing. “I can’t wait to rip you open with my cock, make you feel pain you won’t ever forget.”

Her mind was silenced, fogged up by the lust thumping through her veins. Feyd fucked her with his fingers, he pushed her closer to the high she had only allowed herself to feel whenever she had been desperate for his touch but too proud to search his closeness. But her body wasn’t ready to give up the chase just yet. Her hand found her blade, moving without gaining Feyd’s attention, who was still fully focused on her cunt.

With quick movements, she brought the tip of her blade to his throat, stopping him in his movements. The chuckle leaving Feyd left her smirking, looking even more psychotic with the blood still dripping from the cut on her cheek. She barely put up a fight as Feyd ripped the blade from her hand, as he shifted them around to bring her to her knees and up against his front.

The blade teased her throat as he held her to him, even as he freed his aching cock, ready to disappear deep inside of her, “You had your chance, I would have prepared you for my cock, would have given you time to adjust. But that kindness is no longer among us. Now you’ll take my cock like my own personal whore.”

He forced his cock into her cunt, groaning at the tightness engulfing him. Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of lust, of pain, of desperation – finding an unfamiliar sense of enjoyment in Feyd’s rough touches. His name rolled off her tongue as he fucked into her from behind, dropping the knife to choke her with his cold hands once again.

Feyd was treating her like his pet, treating her like he had been raised to treat women – momentarily forgetting about the love he fostered deep inside of him. And she loved every second of it, finally able to give up control for the first time.

“It brings me great pleasure knowing that no other man will ever get to have you like this. Your body is mine, you’re my whore, you only listen to my commands. And you will kill whoever dares to touch you should I not be fast enough to do it myself.” His words left her choking, forced to claw her fingernails into his pale skin as her mind began to race. Even though the words didn’t sound like it, it was the most sincere love confession Feyd had ever spoken, words that cut deeper than any blade ever would.

“Feyd.” She whimpered his name as his free hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push her towards the edge. The first of many orgasms was awaiting her, set on ripping her from this place into another dimension, led by her husband. (Y/n) felt his black teeth run along her neck, biting the spot where her neck met her shoulders, close to drawing some more blood from her weeping body.

She came without another word clawing through her, calling out his name as her orgasm momentarily robbed her of her vision. Feyd kept a strong hold on her throat, his hips kept meeting her behind, forcing his cock further into her clenched tightness. He gave it a few more thrusts before he pulled out of her and rose to his feet.

With his hand finding her hair, he forced her towards him, making her scalp burn from the strength of his touch. His cock was shoved past her parted lips, letting (y/n) taste herself on his cock as he fucked her mouth. The corners of her mouth began to burn within a few moments, once again making tears fall from her glassy eyes.

She had never seen her husband like this, trembling for her, with his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, fully focused on the pleasure thumping through her. No longer did she feel the need to fight, no longer did her fingertips ache for the feeling of her blade, no, for the first time since knowing Feyd, she wanted to give her everything to satisfy the man.

“You’ll swallow every drop of my seed, and then you’ll lick me clean.” It was a simple command, a command that left her moaning around his cock. Feyd came within a few more seconds, releasing himself down her throat and on her eager tongue. The two held eye contact as she swallowed, as she ran her tongue up and down his twitching length, following his every command.

“Where are you going, wife?” She froze in her movements, her heavily panting self had turned from him, set on plopping down on the ground to catch her breath. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were drawn back to his like spice forced up into the air, following the wind’s call. “That was only the beginning. I won’t be done with you for a while.”

#Feyd Rautha smut #Feyd Rautha imagine #Austin Butler #Feyd Rautha x reader #dune imagine

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