#sadist x masochist pair

[witchywithwhiskey]

🔪 Slasher 🔪 Choose Your Own Ending

pairing: DARK horror movie villain!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, bucky barnes.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, typical horror movie violence (blood, murder, some gruesome descriptions), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, unsafe sadist/masochist dynamic (reader is into it but there are no safe words), dry humping, knife kink, size kink, chase kink, oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, rough body play, light spanking, choking, breath play, bratting/brat taming (reader is slightly unhinged), dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, boot riding, dacryphilia, pet names (cottontail, baby), reader passes out during sex, possessive behavior

word count: 13.3k total (11.6k with only the dark ending; 11.9k with only the fluffy ending)

a/n: i really didn't know if i'd be able to finish this fic in time for the end of my Slasher Summer challenge because it's probably one of the most ambitious fics i've ever attempted. it's loosely inspired by the movie The Final Girls (highly recommend) but i couldn't decide how i wanted it to end, so y'all get TWO ENDINGS!! both are included here, with additional warnings down below. i worked really hard on this, so i really hope y'all enjoy!!! 😅

The last thing you remembered was the feel of fuzzy static on your tongue, fizzling through your arms and legs and making you feel like every nerve ending in your body was buzzing to life. You had a vague memory of licking something you probably shouldn’t have, but then your ears popped and you felt solid ground beneath your feet.

Staticky silence was suddenly replaced by shrill screams of excitement and the mechanical whirring of carnival rides. The rich scents of funnel cakes and popcorn and cotton candy filled your nose, making your mouth water with the desire to eat your weight in fried food.

Blinking your eyes open—not remembering when you’d closed them—you were met with the entrance to the Bakersfield Fun Fair. The big banner declaring the name of the carnival sparked a hazy recognition deep in your mind, but when you looked around, you didn’t quite recognize where you were, and you had no memory of how you’d gotten there. 

Still, something about the fairground, with its ticket booth and carnival rides and all kinds of stalls selling food or touting games to play for prizes, felt familiar. Like you’d seen it in a dream, or when you were a child the memory was a distant thing. 

Muggy summer air brushed against your skin with a soft breeze that helped to alleviate the worst of the heat, the air holding a hint of chill as the sun set on the distant horizon. It cast everything you could see, which was mainly just the carnival and the grassy field being used for a parking lot, in a golden glow. 

Finally, it occurred to you to look down at yourself, finding that you were wearing cutoff jean shorts and a plain tank top—neither of which you recognized. 

The confusion you’d held at bay suddenly overwhelmed you, making you feel as dizzy as if you’d just ridden the tilt-a-whirl, which you somehow knew was nestled somewhere in the fairgrounds. Your stomach lurched as your mind tried to make sense of where you were and how you’d gotten there. You closed your eyes and tried to think. 

As you concentrated, memories began to surface in your mind, like you were dragging them up from the depths of a deep, murky lake. 

It wasn’t summer. It was fall, you remembered, and just moments before you’d been curled up on the worn, aged rug in your grandmother’s basement. You were housesitting for her while she was on a cruise. 

You remembered closing your laptop, heaving a huge sigh of relief at finishing work for the day, then going down into the basement. You’d spent countless hours there as a teenager watching movies on the big, boxy TV set, the kind where you could feel the static if you put your hand against the screen. Your favorite movies to watch were the horror ones…

That was it! 

That was why Bakersfield and the carnival seemed so familiar. Bakersfield was the small town terrorized by the ruthless villain in your favorite horror movie, Slasher, and the final act’s killing spree took place at the town’s annual end of summer carnival. The Bakersfield Fun Fair.

And the villain was Bucky Barnes, a psychotic killer with a sadistic sense of humor and piercing blue eyes. 

You’d had a crush on him when you’d first watched Slasher as a teenager, and your attraction to him remained even well into your adult years. You’d decided to put the movie on because you’d been lonely at your grandmother’s, figuring a night with your favorite horror movie slasher would be the closest thing to a date you could get.

Once you remembered that, the rest of it came back to you. You’d been curled up on the rug in front of the TV, and your favorite scene had come on. It was the one where Bucky is cleaning a bullet wound in his shoulder—given to him by the movie’s mean girl, right before he brutally stabs her in the head—and he had his shirt off, showing the broad expanse of his muscled chest.

It hadn’t been your finest moment, but you were lonely and you got it into your head to lick the screen of the TV over Bucky’s bare chest. And then, that was it. That was all you remembered—and the feeling of static on your tongue.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at the banner again. You blinked. And blinked again. Then you pinched yourself. You didn’t wake up. 

The sign still read Bakersfield Fun Fair. But…that was impossible.

Your jaw went slack as you looked around—really looked at your surroundings.

In the time that you’d spent figuring out where you were, the sun had dipped behind the tops of the trees in the forest beyond the fairground, turning the sky pink and orange, fading into a deep cerulean. There was a ferris wheel in the distance, and the canopy top of a carousel off to the side. 

There were lines of stalls stretching in both directions beyond the entrance to the fair, some with ring toss games and others with milk bottles to be knocked over. Other stalls were selling all kinds of junk food, from cotton candy to candy apples. 

Everything looked and sounded and smelled real. You could practically taste the funnel cake on your tongue, and feel the powered sugar-covered fried dough melting in your mouth. You could clearly see the faces of all the people milling around the fair, kids breaking off with hands clasped tight around their tickets as they went running down the various rows of stalls. 

And the closer you looked, the more realized everything was dated. The clothes, the rides, the toy prizes. Everything looked like it was from the early 90s, when Slasher was made. Even your own clothes and the tennis shoes on your feet looked like they were out of the 90s. 

It was bizarre, and yet, it didn’t feel like a dream. But it had to be a dream. Right?

Spinning around in a circle, you decided that had to be the case. It was the only thing that made sense. It’s not like you could’ve been transported into the world of your favorite horror movie. Stuff like that didn’t happen; it broke all rules of physics and other science stuff you didn’t understand.

Deciding to just roll with it and enjoy your dream, you shrugged off your confusion and headed into the Bakersfield Fun Fair. While you meandered down one of the lines of stalls, you wondered if you’d see any of the characters from the movie. You wondered if you’d see Bucky. 

You almost tripped over the grass beneath your feet at the thought, your heart speeding up in your chest and beating excitedly against your rib cage as you considered the possibility of actually meeting your biggest horror movie crush. 

But your mind didn’t stop there. Oh no. You were the girl who’d decided to lick an old, staticky TV because it was the closest you thought you’d ever get to licking Bucky’s bare chest. 

Naturally, your mind took the thought of meeting him much further and you thought about fulfilling one of your most cherished fantasies. If you were in the world of Slasher, you wanted to fuck Bucky Barnes. 

Before you’d ended up at the Bakersfield Fun Fair, in some ultra-realistic dream, the closest you could’ve gotten was finding a guy who looked like Bucky Barnes and try to convince him to wear the Slasher mask while chasing you through the woods. 

But you’d found yourself in the world of your favorite horror movie—whether by way of your subconscious dreaming about it, or some breakdown of the space-time continuum—and you had the chance to fuck the actual Bucky Barnes. Giddy excitement flooded through you, and you began skipping down the line of carnival stalls, trying to remember what exactly happens in the final act of Slasher.

It probably should’ve worried you how unconcerned you were with the possibility that Bucky could kill you before you even got started trying to convince him to fuck you. But it was your dream, so what was the worst that could happen? If he killed you, you’d just wake up horny and dissatisfied, right? Then, you’d have to take care of yourself, which wasn’t any different to any other day of your life.

Nah, you were almost entirely certain you were in a dream, and because it was your dream, you wouldn’t have too much trouble getting Bucky to fuck you. You just had to find him…

As if right on cue, screams erupted from the opposite end of the fairground, and it sparked your memory. The action at the end of Slasher ramps up when Bucky storms the Bakersfield Fun Fair and the final girl, along with the remainder of her friends, try to set a trap for him. 

Trying to hid your giddy grin, you raced through the fairground, heading in the direction of the screams. Since you’d remembered the beginning of the end of the movie, you couldn’t help but think about what else happens. Bucky carves through the final girl’s friends one by one in various, gruesome ways on the carnival rides at the fair. Then, the final girl eventually traps him by crushing his arm in the gears of the carousel. 

Bucky doesn’t die, of course. He comes back in the sequel, Slasher II, and sports a metal arm that glimmers in the moonlight while he stalks the final girl around Bakersfield all over again. It’s not nearly as good as the first movie, but Bucky is still very hot, and you watched the sequel nearly as many times as the original when you were a teenager.

You were so distracted by thoughts of Bucky’s prosthetic arm, and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your throat while he fucked you, that you didn’t realize you were suddenly alone in the fairground, and you’d made it to the Tunnel of Love ride. 

It was then that you spotted the macabre scene of the final girl’s best friend—you couldn’t remember the character’s name, it was something boring like John—with his heart ripped out of his chest and held in his limp, dead hands. His lifeless eyes stared unseeingly ahead, looking almost like a movie prop, but so, so much more real.

This particular kill was one of Slasher’s most controversial, you remembered. Half the cult fandom argued it was too on the nose, since the movie heavily implied John was in love with the movie’s final girl and never found the courage to tell her. The other half of the fandom enjoyed the tragic romance of it. 

Personally, you didn’t care much about the kills or the drama between the final girl and the other characters. You really only watched Slasher for Bucky, and only cared about the creativity of the murders when he looked particularly hot doing them. 

Your mind whirled as you stared at John’s dead body, your brain focusing on the Slasher message boards you’d trawled well into your college years, rather than trying to make sense of the horrible sight in front of you. It really, really looked like real blood soaking his clothes—and you could even smell the coppery tang of it in the air.

Instinctively, you took a step back, the grass of the fairground soft beneath your feet. The sun had slipped fully behind the trees of the forest beyond the fairground, casting long, ominous shadows over the scene. Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you took another step back, as if putting room between you and the horrific sight in front of you would somehow make it easier to reconcile.

You took one more step backward and bumped into something solid, something that you knew deep in your bones shouldn’t be there.

The smell of blood was stronger suddenly, mixing with an earthy, spicy scent that didn’t make sense for the carnival fairground. Holding your breath, you slowly looked over your shoulder and were met with the sight of a black leather-clad chest. 

Already, you knew it was him. But you dragged your eyes up and sucked in a gasp when you met the piercing blue gaze of Bucky Barnes.

His eyes were filled with a cold hatred that was so visceral, it made your stomach twist in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. Inexplicably, warmth bloomed low in your core, unfurling and reacting to the villain’s presence. Finally, you were face to face with your biggest horror movie crush, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to take all of him in.

Bucky Barnes was even bigger and more intimidating than he seemed on your TV screen, and he was more handsome too. His eyes were an electric blue, the color so bright, it seemed like it glowed from within. And his chin-length brown hair fell on either side of his face, highlighting the strong line of his brow and the intensity of his gaze.

The villain’s mouth and nose were covered by the hard plastic mask that matched the utilitarian leather jacket and combat pants he wore with thick, heavy boots. There were straps on the leather jacket that spanned his broad shoulders, and a utility belt around his trim waist where he secured the various knives and weapons he used throughout the movie.

Looking up at his face again, you realized Bucky was so much taller than you expected, standing behind you like a mountain of cold hatred, radiating danger and menace. Unfortunately for you, that only made the heat simmering in your belly burn hotter until you were squeezing your thighs together against the ache building there. 

You knew your body’s reaction to the psychotic murderer was foolish, to say the least, but there was something about the dangerous man that made your heart beat harder, and made you want to spread your legs for him. 

Glancing down to Bucky’s hand, you saw the big butcher’s knife dangling from his fingers. He hadn’t raised it yet, and when you looked back into his eyes, the villain seemed to be watching you closely, as if wondering how you were going to react to him. 

The longer you went without screaming or running away from him, the more his brows lowered over his eyes. He began to look perplexed.

That was fine, you could work with perplexed.

Carefully, as if dealing with an animal you didn’t want to spook, you turned around and set your hands gently on Bucky’s massive chest, your fingertips toying idly with the leather straps on his jacket. Holding his gaze with your own, you slid your hands up to his shoulders and pushed yourself up onto you tiptoes so you could twine your arms around his neck, as if he were your boyfriend and you were welcoming him home.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice coming out breathy as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You fluttered your lashes at Bucky, figuring that if you didn’t treat him like a threat, he wouldn’t be. And so far, it was working.

The horror villain didn’t seem inclined to respond to your shy greeting, so you pressed yourself close to him, enjoying the feel of his hard body against your soft one. Arching your spine, you pushed your tits up in your tank top, as if offering them to him. 

You were gratified when Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lightly heaving chest, and felt his empty hand twitch against your bare thigh, like he wanted to touch you but was holding himself back. Not that you needed him to touch you to know he was enjoying the feel of you against him.

Bucky’s bulge was already digging into your lower stomach, and you suspected he’d already been hard before you’d pressed against him. But still, you were gratified when, every time you shifted against him, he twitched in his pants, his cock eagerly responding to you. 

The interest of Bucky’s cock had a smile spreading across your face, making you look like the cat who got the cream as you tipped your head back and grinned shamelessly up at the horror movie villain.

“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you purred, rocking your body against Bucky’s bulge and pressing your chest more tightly to his leather jacket. You were practically rubbing on him like a cat in heat, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It felt too good to feel his solid, sturdy form against you.

As you shifted closer, you could feel the tackiness of blood on your arms and chest, and when you glanced down, you saw that some had stuck to you from Bucky’s jacket. It was odd to see the blood on your skin, but it felt like another reminder of what you were doing—and, especially, who you were doing it with. 

Fire was blazing through your veins as you cast your hooded eyes on Bucky’s face, your mouth going soft as you met his piercing gaze. There was a cold flame in the depths of his blue eyes, one you’d never seen in all the times you’d watched Slasher, and it filled you with pride to realize Bucky liked having you pressed against him. 

In response to your question, which you’d almost forgotten in the seconds after it passed your lips, Bucky huffed a laugh behind his mask. Then his hands were on your ass, and he was grabbing your soft flesh with an unyielding grip. He hiked you up higher against his chest, using his inhuman strength, and your legs fell open instinctively, so his thick bulge dug into the juncture of your thighs. 

A wanton moan fell from your lips, your head falling back as you rocked your hips in tiny circles, grinding on Bucky’s hard cock through your clothes. You could feel the flat steel of his knife pressed to the back of your thigh, and your core pulsed at the weapon’s proximity to your most sensitive place, but you didn’t have any worry he was going to use it on you—not when he was staring at you with such a greedy look in his eyes.

Bucky growled out, “Dumb slut,” as his fingers dug into your ass through your jean shorts, but you were too distracted by humping against the mountain of a man, pleasure swirling through your body and filling your head with cotton candy nothing. 

All that mattered was grinding against Bucky’s bulge, and the fact that you were finally—finally—getting to live out your darkest fantasies of fucking the horror movie villain.

“Y’know, I always wondered if killing made your cock hard,” you murmured breathlessly, catching Bucky’s eye and giving him a cheeky grin. “Guess I have my answer now.” You dragged the seam of your shorts up the thick length of Bucky’s cock, drawing a growl from him, your smile spreading wider. “Unless you just have a soft spot for dumb sluts like me,” you said, giggling at your own joke and batting your lashes at him.

Bucky shook his head at you, but not like he was disagreeing with you—more like he was already exasperated with your antics. 

“I thought I already killed this town’s biggest slut,” Bucky ground out, and though you couldn’t see his mouth or jaw, you somehow knew he was grinding his teeth. His fingers dug harder into your ass, his grip nearly punishing as you squirmed against him. 

You found an angle that had your clit rubbing against the tip of Bucky’s cock through your clothes and you let your head fall back, a filthy moan spilling from your lips. The obscene sound rose toward the darkening sky above the fairgrounds, loud against the silence that had fallen over the deserted carnival.

When you managed to get control of your tongue again, and pick up the thread of your conversation, you shot Bucky another grin.

“I’m not from Bakersfield,” you purred, pulling yourself closer to Bucky’s face, until your lips were nearly brushing against the hard plastic of his mask. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, gusting through the slots on the front, making you shiver. Your expression settled into one of fake seriousness as you stared him in the eye. “And you have no idea how much of a slut I can be.”

A growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and his blue eyes narrowed on you, like a predator deciding on its prey. 

“Is that a challenge or an invitation, little cottontail?”

He slapped your ass with the flat of his knife, an obvious instruction to keep humping against him. 

As you followed the order, you choked out a one word answer, “Both!” Then bit your lip against a moan, hiding your delight at the nickname—and your surprise that Bucky would call you anything so sweet. 

But you didn’t seem to be grinding against him hard enough, because he dragged the sharp edge of his knife over the backs of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your ass. He didn’t press hard enough to break skin, but you could feel the threat in the gesture.

You lost the battle against trembling in the big, horror movie villain’s arms, and whimpered, rocking against him harder as a single tear leaked down your cheek. Pleasure was pulsing through your body, hard and fast, the same rhythm in which your heart beat in your chest.

Bucky rumbled a sound of pleasure, his blue eyes going molten as he watched the tear track down your face. He seemed to have forgotten your conversation entirely, more focused on your smaller body humping against his larger one.

You had long since soaked through your panties, and you could feel your arousal leaking through your shorts, coating your inner thighs in your wetness. But dry humping with Bucky wasn’t what you had in mind when you’d fantasized about the horror movie villain through most of your adult years. You needed more, and you had just the idea—a fantasy you’d long wanted to fulfill. With Bucky Barnes especially.

“I know you’re sort of busy, killing and all that,” you huffed, your body straining to keep rocking against his thick length with the speed he desired. “But I was wondering if you might want to take a break and play a game with me?” Your voice was hopelessly breathless and breathlessly hopeful, the pleading in your tone blatant as your words pitched higher with your question. 

Bucky’s brows lowered in confusion. “What kind of game?” came his rumbling, distorted voice from behind his mask.

With a flash of a smirk, you shifted one hand to his shoulder, where you remembered the bullet wound would be beneath his jacket. You could feel the slight raise of the bandages beneath the leather, and you dug your thumb into the spot. You were rewarded by a vicious growl and Bucky’s hands falling away from your ass, the cold steel of his knife disappearing from your skin.

Hopping down, you danced a few feet away from the now-enraged psychopathic killer, making sure you were beyond the reach of his long arms, including the length of his knife before you stopped. Something in your core tightened with excitement when Bucky’s cold, blue eyes focused entirely on you. Even the sight of him shaking out his arm seemed somehow threatening. 

You could see the dark stain of deep red blood in the black leather of his jacket, and couldn’t help but grin. You’d unleashed the darkest side of him, and you couldn’t be more giddy.

You knew Bucky had been holding back on you while you’d been in his arms. But you didn’t want to fuck a horror movie villain because you wanted some harmless dry humping. You wanted him to wreck you. You wanted him to hunt you down and make you his.

“The game is this,” you began, skipping back a few steps when Bucky lunged for you—though you noticed he reached for you with his free hand, rather than his knife, which you took as a good sign and grinned wider. “If you catch me, you can fuck me.” You held his gaze, your smile turning a little feral as you watched the seething villain. “As hard and as rough as you want.”

Your final words made Bucky pause, like a predator going still right before launching itself at its prey. His electric blue eyes shone brighter, reflecting the neon lights of the carnival as they fall across his handsome face. 

You could feel the energy in him shift, and even though you couldn’t see his mouth, you somehow knew he was grinning. You suspected it was even more feral than your own smile.  

“You really are the dumbest fucking slut, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, equal parts humor and menace in his tone, sending a delicious shiver skating down your spine. He took a step forward, his eyes sharp as they watched you skip backward, staying out of reach of his hand and his knife. “You better not let me catch you, baby, because if I do, I’m going to make you scream bloody murder as I split you open with my cock.”

The grin on your face was so wide it was beginning to make your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t wipe it away even if you’d tried. Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation, adrenaline already pumping through your veins as you prepared to run. But you couldn’t help yourself, you had to taunt Bucky just a little more. If you were only going to get one chance to fuck your horror movie villain crush, you were going to make it count.

“Bet you say that to all the girls—bet none of them can scream like me,” you sassed, bouncing on the balls of your feet and scampering back a few more steps when Bucky took another menacing step forward, his big, heavy boot crunching the grass beneath him. 

You laughed at his scowling face, the sound loud and wild in the quiet that had fallen over the fairgrounds. Even the music of the carousel had gone silent. But you couldn’t hold your tongue. You loved the look of danger on Bucky’s face too much.

“You gotta catch me first, Mr. Slasher, then we’ll see if you can make me scream.”

With that parting challenge, you gave Bucky one last cheeky, impertinent smile, and the you turned and took off. 

Sprinting off into the Bakersfield Fun Fair, you didn’t dare look behind you, knowing instinctively that Bucky would be close on your heels. Your mind raced as you tried to form some kind of plan, since you hadn’t thought this far ahead. 

Of course, you had every intention of letting Bucky catch you, but you didn’t want to make it too easy for him. Besides, you’d always wanted to be chased by the hot horror movie villain, then overpowered and taken by the brutal man, so you wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself as well.

As you turned a corner and began running down a row of carnival rides and games on the edge of the fairground, you spotted the funhouse in front of you. Grinning wildly, you pushed to run a little harder and launched yourself up the metal stairs leading into the funhouse.

There was a spinning barrel right away, and you clambered through it, the silence inside the funhouse swallowing you up as you plunged into the depths of the structure. Hauling yourself up a flight of stairs, you stumbled to a stop when you found that the interior of the funhouse was a maze of mirrors.

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you began moving through the maze, your hands outstretched to feel your way between the mirrors. Too soon, you heard Bucky’s heavy footsteps on the metal stairs leading up to the level with the maze and you tried to scurry faster, but you kept bumping into mirrors thinking they were a clear path forward.

A deep, dark chuckle echoed through the stuffy room in the funhouse, the sound distorted through Bucky’s mask, making him truly sound like a horror movie villain. 

The sound of his laugh sent a shiver racing down your spine, your heart rate picking up as you heard his heavy boots begin walking through the maze. It seemed like he was moving much faster than you and you tried to pick up your pace.

“When I get my hands on you, little cottontail,” Bucky began, his menacing voice filtering to you easily, sounding like he was right behind you. “You’re going to regret being such a dumb slut—I’m going to destroy your tight holes with my cock and ruin you until you’re all mine.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” you called over your shoulder, just before barreling into another mirror with a defeated, “oof,” as you tried to escape the maze. 

Huffing in frustration, you turned and went down another path, your panicked breaths so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear Bucky’s footsteps anymore. You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but your lungs protested, your pounding heart making you feel the blood pumping through your veins with every step you took.

“If you’re a good slut, maybe I won’t kill you,” Bucky rumbled, his voice definitely closer than it should be, and you whipped around, looking for the source. But he was no where in sight. “Maybe I’ll keep you—chain you up in my basement, and use your body like the fuck hole you were meant to be.”

You tried to ignore the way your pussy quivered at Bucky’s threat, your body wanting him to do exactly that. But you pushed on, though you were having a harder and harder time remembering why you didn’t want him to catch you. Your panties were soaked and your hole was aching to be filled. And Bucky seemed more than willing to fuck you until you were nothing more than the dumb slut he accused you of being.

Rounding a corner, you gasped loudly as the massive form of Bucky Barnes loomed in front of you, his blue eyes immediately finding yours and making you feel like prey trapped by a much larger predator. 

Spinning on the ball of your foot, you turned and tried to escape in the other direction, only to run head first into Bucky’s chest. His arms closed around you, and you belatedly realized the Bucky you’d seen had been a reflection in one of the mirrors. He wasted no time, squeezing you so tight to his body that you cried out, his strength forcing the air from your lungs. You were caught.

“I win, little cottontail,” Bucky sneered, crushing you harder to his chest while you struggled to breathe, your ribs feeling like they were on the verge of snapping.

Then, suddenly, he let you go and you slumped to your knees, your legs giving out as you fell to the metal floor of the funhouse. Your head was spinning from the lack of air and you focused on pulling as much oxygen into your lungs as possible, the adrenaline in your body making you feel your heartbeat in your temples. 

While you were distracted, Bucky quickly worked his pants open and before you knew what was happening, his thick, heavy cock fell on your face with a lewd slapping sound. You flinched. But then Bucky’s musky scent filled your nose, and you relaxed. Warmth spread through your body as your mind went fuzzy for an entirely different reason than lack of oxygen. 

Your mouth fell open instinctively, your head tipping back to press your lips to his girth, and you felt more wetness dripping from your slit between your thighs. 

Bucky chuckled at your obvious submission, but still used the flat tip of his knife to tip your face back further, until it was practically horizontal. He worked his hips languidly, sliding his cock over your face, precum dripping onto your skin and making a mess of your cheeks and forehead.

“Open your mouth wider, dumb slut,” Bucky growled, his eyes glittering in the dim funhouse as he stared down at you. 

When you did as he ordered, sticking your tongue out for good measure, the tip playing with his balls, the horror villain made a pleased sound deep in his chest. You had the distinct impression he was smiling again, and you almost dared to ask him to take off the mask, but decided against it. Part of the fun of fucking Bucky Barnes was him keeping the mask on. 

“Good girl,” Bucky purred, petting your head with his free hand. He dragged his hips back and pushed the leaking head of his dick into your mouth. “Now, suck.”

The metal flooring of the funhouse dug painfully into your knees, but you pushed the pain from your mind as you focused entirely on Bucky’s cock. Wrapping your lips around the head, you sucked gently, the taste of his precum bursting on your tongue. Your chest warmed with pride when he groaned in pleasure.

You’d intended to take your time—wanting to savor Bucky’s cock and learn every inch of the thick, veiny length before making him come in your mouth. But it seemed your horror movie crush didn’t have the patience for that. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised. You did make him chase you. 

“Is that all ya got, little cottontail?” Bucky growled, using the hand on your head to push you down roughly on his cock, making you gag, your hands flailing against his hard thighs. “I thought you were some kind of slut—thought you’d be throating my cock the second you got your lips around it.” 

Tears poured down your cheeks as he pushed deeper with a grunt, your fingers curling into fists against his thighs as you tried to open for him. Bucky’s cock forcing its way into your throat stung a little, and you worked to relax your muscles, but they kept squeezing tight, preventing his hard length from sliding all the way in.

Finally, Bucky pulled his cock free from your mouth and you gasped for breath, a hand massaging your throat, the inside feeling raw already. But Bucky didn’t seem to care. 

He bent down over you, grabbing your face in his free hand and using the sharp end of his knife to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I thought you wanted this, baby,” he rumbled, his tone mocking and patronizing, a laugh in his distorted voice that made you think he was grinning and enjoying your struggle more than he was trying to let on. “You said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want.” He paused to tsk at you. “You can’t even take my cock without gagging—some slut you are.”

Embarrassment and no small amount of humiliation flooded through you, making you pout. OK so maybe you were more of a slut in theory than in practice, but you did want this. And you’d been trying. Couldn’t he see that?

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared up at Bucky, your lips still pursed in a pout. 

“Your cock is too big,” you huffed, a hint of a whine in your voice. “Let me try again.”

Bucky laughed, the sound cold and mean, though that only made your pussy drip even more for him. He patted your cheek patronizingly with his knife before fixing you with a hard look.

“You either take my whole cock in your dumb slut mouth, little cottontail,” he growled, a threat in his tone. “Or I’ll make you take it, ya hear me?”

The menace in his deep voice sent a shiver racing down your spine, settling heavily between your thighs until you had to squeeze them together against the ache in your core. You nodded your understanding. “Yes, sir,” you murmured. 

“Good girl,” came Bucky’s rumbling, terrifying voice. Then he stood up and shoved his cock into your mouth again, so suddenly that all you could do was make a muffled, surprised noise and take it. 

You bobbed on the hard, thick length of Bucky’s cock, stretching your lips until the edges stung, forcing his girth deep into your mouth. You gagged when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, but you tried to ignore your body’s response and work past it. No matter how hard you tried, though, you couldn’t get his dick all the way inside your mouth.

After a few minutes of letting you try and watching you fail, Bucky let out an impatient growl before muttering, “Looks like you need me to make you take my cock, baby.” Both his hands grabbed your head and he tilted it back, so your gaze met his. “Just remember, if you’d been a better slut, you wouldn’t have made me do this.”

Your eyes widened, tears leaking out the corners as he moved you into the new position he wanted, with your back to one of the mirrors, your head trapped between the hard surface and his cock. Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his pants near his knees, but you didn’t protest, just stared up at your horror movie villain, anticipation zipping through your body.

“Don’t worry, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, and you could tell he was smiling again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a telltale way. “This won’t hurt nearly as much as if I’d slit your throat—but it’ll probably last longer than it would’ve taken you to bleed out.”

At that ominous comment, your pussy clenched, even more wetness dripping from your pussy and soaking your shorts. You clenched your thighs together, but that was the only part of your body you could move other than your arms. You were helpless to Bucky’s brutality, and you loved it. If his cock wasn’t already buried in your mouth, you would’ve urged him on.

Wasting no more time, Bucky shoved his dick deep into your mouth, pushing past the squeezing muscles in your throat, groaning when you choked and gagged on his thick cock. Your jaw ached and your throat felt raw, but you accepted it, you welcomed it. Bucky’s roughness was only making your pussy wetter, and you couldn’t wait until you could feel him sinking into your tight, wet hole.

Still, you couldn’t quite control your body’s reaction to the intrusion in your throat. Your throat spasmed and you let out a strangled little sound of desperation as it got harder to breathe. You arms flailed and your body tried to escape, only to bang against the mirror behind you. The fact that you were trapped, really trapped, made more tears leak from your eyes. 

“That’s it, baby, cry for me while you’re choking on my cock,” Bucky rumbled, holding your head in his hands as he stared down at you, kneeling for him, your throat bulging with his cock. His eyes sparkled like he enjoyed the sight far too much. “Your dumb slut tears are making me harder.” 

You felt his cock throb in your throat as proof, but then he was pulling back, only for his hips to snap forward, burying his hard length in your throat all over again. More tears poured down your face, your throat closing on a sob that wrenched a deep, pleasured groan from Bucky.

“Fuck, that’s it—take it, slut, you might be crying, but you fucking love it, don’t you, little cottontail?” Bucky rumbled, breathless laughter in his tone. “You love letting me use your mouth like my own personal fuck toy, bet your pussy’s dripping onto the floor, making a mess of your thighs like ‘m gonna make a mess of your face, huh?”

You couldn’t help it, you moaned around Bucky’s cock, his words stoking the blazing fire of your arousal. It didn’t help matters that he was right—your thighs, your shorts and your panties were a mess, all soaked with your desire. 

Bucky grunted when he felt you moan around his hardness, his hips snapping against your face harder as he pounded into your mouth. His hands held your head in a punishing grip, his cock ramming deep into your throat while the back of your skull was pressed against the mirror behind you.

A whine worked its way up your throat as you squirmed, your pussy pulsing with the need to be filled, to be rubbed, to get some kind of attention. One of your hands fell between your thighs and you rocked against it, your clit rubbing against the seam of your shorts until you were moaning and sobbing around Bucky’s cock.

Suddenly he stopped. “What’re you doin’ down there, little cottontail?” he rasped, ducking his head to the side so he could see around his cock and your face. When he caught you with your hand between your thighs, he laughed, his glittering blue eyes finding yours. “Oh, I see—the dumb little slut’s dripping hole needs some attention, huh?” 

Bucky shifted, using his booted foot to kick your thighs apart on the metal floor of the funhouse. Then he shoved his boot between your legs, and jerked his head like he expected you to sit on it.

“You need something to hump against, don’t you, baby?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Well, go ‘head. Ride my fucking boot, little cottontail.” His voice was dark and deep, the sound of it making you shiver. But you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want to follow his order, so you lowered yourself down onto his boot.

The moment your aching core dragged over the laces of Bucky’s boot, you let out a low, filthy moan, the sound muffled by his cock in your mouth. It was exactly the kind of friction you wanted, your clit and messy slit rubbing against the seam of your shorts and the roughness of his laces. Pleasure bloomed, hot and heady, and swirled through your body, overwhelming your mind.

Above you, Bucky groaned, shoving deeper into your throat until your nose was pressed into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock and his balls were nestled up against your chin. Spit and precum and tears were leaking down your face, making a mess of your jaw and chin, dripping down to your tits while Bucky watched you with hooded eyes.

“Do that again, baby,” Bucky grunted, holding your head down on his hardness. “Moan like a dumb fucking slut on my cock while I ruin your throat.” 

It took little effort to moan again as pleasure and pain swirled through your body, your hips working on Bucky’s boot, grinding your slick cunt against the stiff leather through your panties and shorts. Your clit rubbed over the laces, your mind filling with clouds of bliss as you sank into the feeling of your pussy grinding against Bucky’s boot and his cock fucking your throat.

Bucky was grunting and groaning loudly, his sounds of pleasure a reward for how good your slutty mouth was making him feel. He pounded into your face, his balls slapping against your chin, seeking his release while you humped against his boot, intent on finding your own pleasure while he used you. 

You were both lost entirely in each other, too focused on seeking pleasure to notice someone else had entered the funhouse. Bucky’s eyes were only for you, and you were staring up too intently into his face, watching pleasure make his eyes go hazy to pay attention to your surroundings—which was the only reason one of the final girl’s friends was able to sneak up on the two of you.

“Get away from her, you monster!” The girl’s shriek was followed closely by the splintering sound of a wooden bat as she swung it at Bucky, and the thing shattering apart against his back. Her face, twisted in fury and determination, quickly shifted to surprise and panic.

For his part, Bucky merely grunted, barely lurching forward as he shoved his cock impossibly deeper in your throat while he bore the attack. But then he was moving quicker than your pleasure-drunk eyes could fully process, your body only aware that he was pulling back until only the tip of him remained on your tongue. Growling furiously, Bucky turned and used his knife to slash the girl’s throat.

You vaguely recognized the girl as one of the characters in Slasher who gets killed at the carnival in the third act, though you couldn’t remember which ride Bucky kills her on. Maybe it was the funhouse—that would explain how she found the two of you.

In that moment, you didn’t much care. You’d been busy with Bucky and you were more than a little annoyed at the interruption. Your body was buzzing with your unslaked need, and you felt horny and frustrated as you turned your attention back to the horror villain above you.

But Bucky’s focus was entirely on the other girl, who was grabbing her throat uselessly, trying to stem the gush of blood as she stumbled into a mirror, leaving a bloody handprint behind. Bucky’s eyes were gleaming as he savored the sight of the dying girl, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he was grinning.

His cock was still in your mouth, but just barely, and the longer he watched the other girl die, the more a pout grew on your lips. 

After a few long moments of the girl’s death dragging on, you’d had enough. This was your fantasy come to life, and if Bucky wasn’t going to pay attention to you and get you off, then you were going to make him. 

Carefully, you extracted yourself from between Bucky and the mirror you’d been pressed against, your pout only growing when his stiff cock slipped from your lips and he didn’t even notice. Quickly, you crawled around the corner and once you were out of sight, you hopped up to your feet so you could move faster.

Your legs felt weak from your earlier running and kneeling on the hard, metal floor—not to mention how close you’d been to coming on Bucky’s boot. But you urged them to work as you moved as quietly as you could through the rest of the maze.

You were already almost to the exit when Bucky finally noticed you’d escaped. His angry roar of, “COTTONTAIL!” echoed off the mirrors and metal walls inside the funhouse. But his rage only made you snicker. It was his own fault, after all.

“You shoulda tied me down or paid more attention to me if you didn’t want me getting away, Mr. Slasher,” you called over your shoulder, taunting him as you darted around the final corner in the mirror maze, finding your way out. You clambered through the rest of the funhouse, Bucky’s stomping footsteps reverberating around you and making your heart beat faster with fear and excitement.

You slid down the slide that worked as the exit from the funhouse and as soon as your feet hit the grass of the fairground, you sprinted off again. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about where else Bucky kills the final girl’s friends in the final act of Slasher. All you could remember was the ending, with the carousel.

You turned a corner, running in the opposite direction of the carousel and that area of the carnival, not wanting the final girl or anymore of her friends interrupting you once Bucky caught you again.

Sooner than you expected, a leather-clad chest slammed into your back and, within the next breath, you hit the grassy ground as Bucky tackled you. One of his hands wrapped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck while he pressed his face into the side of yours.

Even through his hard plastic mask, you could feel his breath on your skin, his hot, heavy breaths gusting past your cheek as he panted like a rabid dog. 

“I win again, baby,” Bucky growled, his voice even more threatening thanks to the fury in it. He clearly didn’t appreciate that you’d made him chase you again, and the coldness in his tone promised that while you might find pleasure in what he was about to do to you, you were also going to feel no small amount of pain. 

“And you can be sure I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he went on, resting more of his weight on your back until you were pinned to the ground beneath him, your body struggling to catch your breath as he crushed your lungs. “Now that I have you, you’re never getting away from me again—you’re mine, little cottontail.”

Your heart panged in your chest, and it took you a second to realize the feeling was yearning. Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? You wanted someone to see you at your brattiest, with your darkest desires all laid out—and even seeing your soul bared for them, you wanted them to want to keep you. Part of you wanted to roll over and open your legs for Bucky, tell him you were his forever. But that wasn’t really in your nature.

Instead, you huffed a belated laugh, squirming beneath Bucky and fighting against his considerable strength even though you knew it was no good. You weren’t going anywhere, and you loved it.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Mr. Slasher,” you taunted, bucking your hips hard. You felt Bucky’s big body jostle just a little and, sensing a glimmer of freedom, you fought harder. 

Then cold steel replaced Bucky’s hand at your throat and you went still. Despite the fact that he’d used the knife mere moments ago to kill someone else, you were almost certain he wasn’t going to do the same to you. Well, pretty certain.

Besides, you were still convinced you were in a dream and dying would only wake you up. But with Bucky’s knife pressed to your neck, you didn’t exactly want to test your theory.

The horror movie villain chuckled, his chest rumbling against your spine and his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all night, little cottontail,” he murmured, his voice so dark and deep, it made you shiver. 

He dug the steel of his knife into your throat, using his other hand to guide you up onto your hands and knees. Bucky’s big body was curled over yours, his hand reaching beneath you to grope your tits while he groaned against the side of your face. 

“Such soft tits, baby,” he grunted as his fingers kneaded your flesh through your tank top. Then his hand was diving under the fabric to pinch your nipples, making you cry out and arch your back. “Yeah, that’s it, ya dumb slut, let me hear how much you like having a monster like me playing with your tits.”

You whimpered when he pinched your nipple hard and shook your breast, the sting of pain and pleasure consuming your mind and making you grind back against his thick cock, which he’d tucked back into his pants. An impatient whine tumbled from your lips and it was on the tip of your tongue to beg Bucky to fuck you, but it seemed he was just as eager to get on with it.

Skimming his hand down your body, Bucky found the button of your shorts and quickly undid them. He sat up on his knees, dragging you with him and keeping his knife at your throat. 

He shoved your shorts and panties down roughly past your ass to your thighs, then dipped his hand between your legs. A loud groan rumbled in his chest when he realized how wet you were. 

“Fuck, you really are a slut, aren’t you, baby?” he taunted in a mocking tone, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. His fingers slipped between your drenched folds and all you could do to answer him was moan as he teased your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up this slick cunt, little cottontail,” he rumbled in your ear, a promise ringing in his words. “I’m gonna destroy your tight hole until you’re nothing more than my dumb, cock-drunk slut.”

Between Bucky’s fingers playing with your pussy and his words wreaking havoc on your pleasure-soaked mind, you were desperate for him to follow through on his promise. 

Suddenly, you’d had enough of the game you’d been playing with Bucky and you wanted him to finally—finally—fuck you.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, fuck me,” you sobbed, tears leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks as you rocked your ass against his hard cock. “Please, god, I need it—I need you.”

For a moment, Bucky was silent and unmoving. Then he was shoving you forward into the grass so you were back on your hands and knees. His knife just barely grazed the side of your neck as you fell forward, and you whimpered at the light sting of it.

The next thing you knew, Bucky’s cock was slapping against your bare ass, and he was lining himself up with your soaked, fluttering pussy. Your fingers dug into the grass, preparing yourself to hold on for dear life.

“Remember, little cottontail, you said I could fuck you as hard and rough as I want,” Bucky rumbled, sliding his cock between your legs, coating his thick length in your desire. “If it’s too much for you, you can scream all you want, but I’m not stopping until I’ve filled your cunt with all the come in my balls.”

You could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice, but didn’t have time to respond to his words because in the next second, he shoved himself all the way inside you with one thrust.

Bucky’s thick, hard cock slammed deep into your tight pussy, and a scream wrenched free from your lips, making your already raw throat hurt even more. But it was the delicious kind of pain that mixed perfectly with the feeling of Bucky filling you up for the first time. 

His girth was bigger than anyone or any toy you’d taken before, and it felt like you were being split apart, your insides rearranging to make room for his huge cock. It was only because you were so wet that it didn’t really hurt, but the sting of the stretch was enough to send your mind reeling, your thoughts scattering until the only thing that mattered was Bucky’s cock inside you and his body behind you.

Bucky made a noise that was half groan, half growl—sounding entirely feral behind his mask as his hands dug into your hips. You could feel him still holding his knife, but the steel wasn’t pressed against your skin so you didn’t give it much thought.

“God, that’s a tight fucking cunt ya got here, cottontail,” he rasped, pulling back and slamming forward so hard, your arms shook and you nearly collapsed face first into the grass. “Feel like you were fucking made for me, baby—made to be my fuck hole, made to take my cock.”

True to his word, the horror movie villain rutted into you hard, paying no mind to your pleasure, just taking his own. But that was exactly how you liked it, and you couldn’t help the litany of desperate moans and whimpers that tumbled past your lips. 

Before long, your arms gave out and your cheek pressed to the grass, which was cool against your face. The position made your back arch and your ass stick up in the air. Bucky made a pleased sound, slapping your ass in a gesture that almost felt like praise.

“Yeah, take it like a slut, baby,” he growled, pounding into you harder—hard enough you could feel your ass and hips and thighs ripple with the force of his thrusts. “This is how dumb sluts are meant to be fucked.”

You whined at the searing pleasure of Bucky’s cock hammering into your cunt, and you arched your back further, giving him easier access to drive even deeper into you from behind. Your reward was another hard slap on your ass—that time with the cold flat steel of Bucky’s knife. You squealed, then moaned as the sharp sting devolved into even more pleasure.

Bucky laughed, the sound wild and dark. Then he curled his body over yours, dropping the knife in the grass so he could grab wrap one of his hands around your throat while the other groped your tits. 

“You’re mine, little cottontail,” he growled in your ear. “I own your body now, and you’re going to be my personal fuck toy for the rest of your life.” He rutted into you, hard and rough, his hips slapping against your ass mixing with the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked. “I’m gonna chain you up in my basement, and you’re gonna be my basement slut—my little cottontail—forever.”

It was impossible to nod, and impossible to speak, with how tightly Bucky had you pinned beneath him while he fucked you. So you wrapped a hand around his wrist, not pulling him away, but squeezing hard enough that you could feel his pulse thrumming beneath your thumb. You clung to him, telling him wordlessly that you were submitting to him, tears gathering in your lashes as pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, pounding you hard and fast, the hard plastic of his mask digging into the side of your face. “Cry for me, cottontail, you know it makes me harder.” 

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat while his other hand tortured your nipples, tugging and pinching them, until your tears began leaking from your eyes. Bucky ducked forward, nuzzling your tear-stained cheek through his mask, groaning as he hit a spot inside of you that made your whole body clench and your mouth drop open in a soundless scream.

“I can feel your cunt choking my cock, baby,” Bucky rumbled in your ear. “You really love everything I’m doing to you, don’t you, dumb slut?” His hips pressed against your ass and he started grinding his cock deep in your core, the tip brushing against that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Yes, yes, Bucky, yes,” you sobbed, your words breathless and soft and only able to escape because he’d loosened his hold on your throat slightly. But then he tightened his fingers again and you made a desperate little gasping sound.

Bucky laughed, the sound evil and mocking, and your cunt pulsed again. He refocused on fucking you, pounding into you and chasing his own pleasure. You tried to scream, the pleasure nearly mind-blowing, but his hand on your throat made sure you could only make the barest of noises.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, little cottontail,” Bucky rumbled, his hard plastic mask chafing against your sensitive cheek. “You’re gonna come and show me that you’re mine, that you accept your new life—and me as your master.”

Your fingers squeezed his wrist again in understanding, and then you couldn’t think anymore. Bucky’s cock was pounding into your pussy hard enough to almost hurt, pleasure pulsing through your body as he plucked and played with your tits. Your head was going fuzzy from a lack of air, but that just made everything else feel better and more.

When Bucky’s hand abandoned your tits to slip between your thighs, it only took a few strokes of his fingers against your clit to set you off. At the same moment, Bucky’s hand loosened around your throat, and oxygen flooded your lungs as you came on his cock. 

It was almost an out-of-body experience, coming on the thick length of your horror movie villain crush, your mind going entirely blank as your body tried to process all the pleasure and sensation flooding through it. A loud, piercing scream sounded in your ears and it took a second to realize it was spilling from your own lips. 

Bucky’s hand tightened around your throat again, tighter than before, cutting off the sound of your pleasure while he grunted and groaned above you. He was rutting into you as your walls squeezed his cock, taking his pleasure as he prolonged yours.

Blackness was starting to creep into the edges of your vision when he finally roared loudly, his cock throbbing inside you as he spilled his come deep in your pussy. His fingers dug into the sides of your throat harder, choking you through his orgasm as your body fluttered with the last waves of your release. 

The last thing you heard was Bucky muttering, “Good girl, take my come, little cottontail,” as he pumped you full of his thick, sticky seed. Then, there was nothing but comforting darkness, and you sank into it, feeling satisfied and happy as you passed out in the arms of your horror movie villain…

Now, the choice is yours, dear reader. Do you want to stay with Bucky Barnes and live in the world of Slasher? If so, read on for the dark ending! Or do you want to wake up and meet someone a little less psychotic? If so, skip down to the fluffy ending!

Slasher - Dark Ending

dark ending additional warnings: dubcon, somnophilia, slightly painful sex, basement wife-ing, references to Bucky's arm amputation, Bucky is even more psychotic

You were woken by your body jostling against concrete, an aching mix of pleasure and pain radiating between your thighs. The slick sounds of fucking met your ears and, belatedly, you realized you were impaled on a cock, the thickness of it stretching your tight hole to its limit. 

Your inner thighs felt chafed and your back hurt from the position you were contorted in, your shoulders propped up against a cinderblock wall while you were folded in half at the waist, a heavy body pinning your legs to your chest while they fucked you. You were naked and a little cold, but the body against you was warm.

Blinking your eyes open, you were met with the sight of Bucky’s handsome face contorted with pleasure as he fucked you. There was a new glimmer in the depths of his blue eyes—something wild and feral and more than a little frightening. His mouth spread into a savage grin when he saw you were awake.

“There’s my little cottontail,” he rumbled before ducking down and kissing your cheek in a gesture that would’ve been sweet if not for his stubble roughing over your sensitive skin. You whimpered softly at the abrading feeling, your pussy pulsing despite your exhaustion.

When he pulled back, the sound of chains rattling above you finally caught your attention and you looked up, finding your wrists shackled above your head and bolted into the wall of the basement. Dim morning light was filtering in through windows set high in the walls, and you couldn’t make out much beyond the shadow of the stairs leading up to the first floor.

Before you could gather you wits enough to ask a question, or wade through your confusion to figure out what question you should even ask, Bucky slammed deep inside you, wringing a weak moan from you. It was only then that you realized he’d been taking it easy on you while you were asleep, but since you were awake, he started fucking you harder. Pleasure, pain and bewilderment warred with the tiredness of just waking up as you tried to think. 

Your eyes slid closed while you tried to block out Bucky and your surroundings. You needed to figure out why you weren’t in your grandmother’s basement, having woken up from the dream you’d been sure you were having.

But Bucky didn’t like that. His weight settled more heavily on top of you, making your hips ache in protest, and grabbed your face roughly in his hand. 

“Look at me, cottontail,” he rumbled, shaking your head until your eyes fluttered open again.

Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes and your mouth worked, trying to find the words for how you felt. You’d wanted this—wanted someone like Bucky who saw who you really were and still wanted to keep you. But now that you were actually chained up in his basement, you wondered if maybe you’d jumped in the deep end without being able to swim. 

“Don’t look so confused, baby,” Bucky growled in a patronizingly sweet tone, thumbing your tears from your cheeks and making you flinch as the salt of them irritated your skin. “I told you I was never letting you go—you knew this was going to happen.” He was grinding his cock deep into your well-used cunt, the pleasure almost painful. “Now that you’re chained up in my basement, you have no hope of ever escaping from me again.”

The head of his cock battered against your cervix and you cried out, your head thumping against the cinderblock wall behind you. The pain mixed with the pleasure of thick length rubbing against your sensitive inner walls until your mind was spinning. 

You just couldn’t wrap your head around it. You really hadn’t known this was going to happen. You’d thought you were dreaming and were going to wake up after you’d fucked Bucky Barnes, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Apparently you’d really somehow been transported into the world of Slasher.

“Thank me for keeping you, little cottontail,” Bucky growled, wringing another pleasured whimper from you as he kept grinding his cock into you. “After all, it wasn’t easy getting you here after that bitch crushed my arm.” His voice was dripping venom and he rocked his hips harder, forcing tears from your eyes as his cock battered your cervix.

It was only then that you understood why so much of Bucky’s weight was resting on you while his hand held your face. Darting your eyes to Bucky’s shoulder, there was a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around the place where he must’ve amputated his arm after the final girl had crushed it in the carousel gears. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, empathy for Bucky surging through you. It really couldn’t have been easy getting you back to his house when he was injured like that. 

But before you could follow the order he’d given you, Bucky yanked your face back to look at him. He ducked closer, so all you could see were his eyes, wild and psychotic, boring into your own.

“Thank your master for keeping you!” he growled harshly.

Your heart panged, and you rushed to do as he said. “Th-thank you for keeping me, Bucky,” you cried, tears streaming down your face, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, master!” 

The anger leeched out of Bucky at your words and your tears, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Good girl,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek in reward and kissing your jaw with his soft lips. “My good, dumb slut—you’re going to make such a good basement wife for me.”

A small, confused noise squeaked out of you and Bucky pulled back, a grin on his face. He nodded up toward your hands and you twisted them in your shackles, finding shiny, silver metal glinting off your left ring finger. You sucked in a gasp, feeling speechless as your mind failed to process another shocking revelation in so little time.

“Your dream is coming true, baby,” Bucky rumbled, licking the tears from your cheeks, taking your silence as understanding and submission. “You’re going to be my own personal fuck hole—my pretty little dumb slut—for the rest of your life.”

Bucky canted his hips, grinding his cock into the depths of your pussy while the base of him rubbed against your clit and the pleasure that had been winding tighter in your core suddenly snapped. You came with a loud, sobbing scream, your head thrown back against the wall of the basement as tears cascaded down your cheeks while you succumbed to the pleasure, your cunt greedily squeezing Bucky’s cock.

A small part of you wanted to black out again, hoping you’d wake up back in your grandmother’s basement, unsure if you had what it took to be the full-time fuck toy of your favorite horror movie villain. But somehow you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Whatever had transported you into the world of Slasher seemed to be a one-way ticket, and you’d made your choices. The fact that you were at the mercy of Bucky Barnes was no one’s fault but your own.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything you’d done. After all, you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—you got to fuck Bucky Barnes. And if you had your way, you’d fuck Bucky Barnes every day until you died. Which was good, since that seemed to be exactly what he had planned for you.

Just then, Bucky grunted, his cock twitching inside you and he slammed deep, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a messy kiss while he came, coating your insides with his seed. His lips were hard and demanding, but you weren’t some wilting flower—you nipped his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Bucky’s cock throbbed inside you as he chuckled, kissing you again, the taste of his blood bursting on your tongue as you devoured each other. 

When he pulled away and collapsed on top of you, a satisfied smile curved your lips. You glanced up at the ring on your finger again, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to be Bucky Barnes’ basement wife. 

Slasher - Fluffy Ending

fluffy ending additional warnings: talk about past roleplay, some potentially risky decisions on reader's part, that's really it

You awoke with a start, the loud, chiming sound of the doorbell echoing through your grandmother’s house and dragging you back to reality from the depths of your dream. A faint soreness permeated your body, and you frowned, the memory of your dream clinging to the edges of your mind.  

Groggily, you opened your eyes to find you were curled up on the familiar rug in the basement of your grandmother’s house, and you suspected the hard floor was likely the cause of your soreness. Still, you felt a faint tingling all over, the remnants of pleasure from your dream and you smiled as you stretched languidly, easing most of the aches in your limbs.

The doorbell chimed again, and you dragged yourself up, wiping drool from your cheek as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and climbed the stairs up to the first floor. On your way to the door, you checked the time, finding it was nearly midnight, and wondered who was stopping by so late. All your relatives and all your grandmother’s friends would be asleep.

Flicking on the porch light, you opened the front door, but the left the screen door latched when you found a strange man standing there. The frigid autuman night air wrapped around you, and you crossed your arms over your chest to stave off a shiver. 

“Hey Mrs—” The man had been standing with his back to you, facing the street, and swung around when he heard the door open. But he paused when he saw you, his greeting cutting off as if he’d been expecting someone else. 

A distant corner of your brain pointed out that of course he was expecting someone else—you were answering the door at your grandmother’s house.

But you couldn’t pay attention to your mind’s logic because you were silently freaking out. The man looked almost exactly like Bucky Barnes. 

He had the same sparkling blue eyes, though there wasn’t any of the cold hatred that haunted your favorite horror movie villain. And his mouth was curved into a charming smile, which you knew for certain you’d never see on the version of Bucky from Slasher. The man’s hair was also shorter, and the stubble on his jaw was a little less scruffy, like he’d shaved that morning and it had grown out since then. The style really worked for him. 

He was somehow even more attractive than Bucky Barnes. You didn’t know how that was possible, but apparently it was. 

The man shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair, looking a little abashed. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb ya,” he said, a slight Brooklyn accent in his voice. “Sometimes I borrow some ground coffee from the lady who lives here when I’ve run out.” He shot you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “And I’ve run out.”

“Oh,” you said, a little dumbly. “You must be talking about my grandmother.” Your surprise over the man’s resemblance to Bucky was wearing off, and you found that his smile was infectious. He had a charm to him that made you want to tell him more than you should, which must’ve been why you found yourself saying, “She’s on a cruise, and I’m watching her house.”

It might’ve been a mistake to tell a strange man that much, but instead of doing anything to make you second-guess yourself, he just smacked a hand against his forehead. The gesture was so endearing, you couldn’t help but laugh, warming to him even more. 

“You’re right! She told me about that.” He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your face—hopefully not finding any traces of drool on your chin—and his eyes softened. “Sorry again to bother you, your gran’s normally up watching one of those late shows, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You snorted to yourself. Of course your grandmother was known for staying up later than you. But you didn’t want the man to feel bad. It wasn’t like he woke you up before you came on dream Bucky’s cock. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head and smiling softly to let him know it really was fine. Again, you had the urge to say more to him than you normally would to a stranger. So, before you could hold your tongue, you blurted, “Do you know you look exactly like the villain from this old horror movie?” 

Even in the dim yellow light of the porch, you could see the man’s cheeks turn pink while he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. But he was hiding a smile behind his palm and when he caught your eye, there was humor in the depths of his gaze.

“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” he said, his voice suddenly lower. “Bucky Barnes from Slasher, right?” 

You nodded, almost mesmerized as you stared into his eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you admitted, because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth had been left on the rug in your grandmother’s basement. But the man only chuckled, the light flush fading from his face.

“Did you now?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with humor as he looked at your face, his gaze raking over the curve of your lips. He shifted closer to the door and a shiver skated down your spine at the way he loomed over you. “Y’know, my friends have called me Bucky ever since we watched that movie one summer when were idiot kids.”

“Y-your name’s Bucky?” you asked, excitement making your voice come out like a whisper. 

The man looked to the side and chuckled, the sound low and rich and making you want to giggle ridiculously and kick your feet. When his gaze found yours again, his eyes were sparkling with playfulness and something more; his mouth was curved into a devastatingly charming grin.

“No, my name is James Barnes, but pretty much everyone calls me Bucky.” He watched you absorb this information, shifting even closer to the door until you could feel the warmth of him seeping through the screen. “Would you like to call me Bucky, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice pitching so low and deep, you could feel it between your thighs.

Your shoulders trembled as you shivered, nodding eagerly as you whispered, “Yes, please.”

Bucky rumbled a pleased sound, and his hand raised toward the screen, like he was reaching for you. But then he paused, as if catching himself. Huffing a laugh, he drew his hand back and wiped it down his face, seemingly forcing himself to straighten and take a step back. 

You almost whined in protest, but caught yourself at the last second, biting your lip against a frown as he moved away. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had drifted to each other through the door until he was pulling away. You understood it was probably weird, the way you were acting with each other considering you just met, but the chemistry between you was palpable, and you desperately wanted to explore it as soon as possible.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I have the mask,” Bucky confessed, breaking you free from your thoughts. 

You were glad for it, because he was giving you another loaded look and you felt your belly swoop, butterflies taking flight as he smiled at you. It took a second to process his words, and when you did, you couldn’t help the impish grin that spread across your face. You gestured for him to go on.

“I bought it for a girl I was seeing who said she wanted to roleplay,” he went on, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking off to the side again, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be telling this to a girl he just met, but couldn’t help himself. “But I think I scared her off.” He turned his penetrating gaze back to you, pinning you in place while you held your breath. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who scares easily.”

You snorted again and tossed your head. That was an understatement, if your dream was any indication of your desires—which it was. You gave the man called Bucky a cheeky smile. “No, I’m definitely not,” you told him, a hint of a challenge in your tone.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, staring at each other. Then, you made a slightly reckless decision. Your hand reached for the latch of the screen door and pushed it open, all while holding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you come in and get that coffee you needed,” you offered, hoping your instincts about Bucky were right, and he would turn out to be exactly the kind of man you wanted in your life. Besides, you told yourself, your grandmother liked him well enough to lend him some coffee—and you trusted her judgement so he must be a decent guy. “And you can tell me what about your roleplay frightened off that girl.”

Bucky’s smile spread into a full-on grin, and he eagerly grabbed the door, opening it wider while he stepped forward. When you didn’t move back right away and instead allowed him to step into your personal space, his gaze dropped to your mouth, his eyes darkening and the corners of his mouth twitching in another smile.

“Deal,” he rumbled. “So long as you tell me more about this crush of yours.”

The memories of your dream flitted through your mind, feeling more real than any dream you’d ever had before, and you found you couldn’t wait to tell Bucky about it. The man in front of you was warmer and kinder than the one you’d met in your dreams, but you had a feeling he had a dark side that liked to come out to play—just like you. 

“Deal.” After you said the word, you felt as if something truly special was beginning and your heart raced with excitement as you stared up into Bucky’s handsome face. Both of you were grinning like idiots.

Finally taking a step back, you welcomed Bucky into your grandmother’s house, knowing deep in your bones that you were going to be in each other’s lives for a very long time—possibly even forever. And you couldn’t help but think that having this Bucky Barnes was even better than dreaming about your horror movie villain crush. After all, at least he was real.

[borathae]

"You accidentally start your period in the middle of the night next to your boyfriend, who just so happens to be a vampire with a way too sensitive sense of smell."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader 

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut 

Warnings: Hard Dom & very desperate!Yoongi, sub & whiney!Reader, rough sex, she’s a tease, he shows her his truest face, period sex, lotsa period blood, they kiss with her blood on his lips, messy oral (f.receiving), that's the closest you will get to Yoongi drinking her blood, and of course it's nothing but pussy wetting porn, multiple forced orgasms (f.receiving), his demon tongue is making an appearance, squirting, she uses her safeword to get a break and Yoongi gives it to her, then after some bickering and snuggles the fucking continues jsjsj, strength kink, choking (f.receiving), scratching & hair pulling (m.receiving), graphic dirty talk, praise & degradation, they’re both masochists, Yoongi also shows his sadistic side, he calls her slut & brat, but also babygirl & princess, he rails the shit outta her while his face is covered in her blood fjadsf, he has his huge vampire cock out <3, he also talks about pumping her full of his cum, he is so unhinged, I'm telling you this is craziness, this is once again monster fucker smut ehehe, he domdrops but she gives him affection <3, the softest aftercare and both being giggly, this is reason 666 why I want a vampire boyfriend

Wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: This is nothing but pussy madness, I will not apologize. I was in a mood and you guys are gonna bear witness to it. Enjoy this no brain just pussy story 🤪

You have been slumbering peacefully when a harsh shake wakes you.

“No”, you grumble, getting shaken around again mere seconds later.

“___ wake up”, Yoongi’s voice sound stressed.

With a groan, you let him roll you to your back.

“Too sleepy”, you mumble.

“Fucking hell, open your eyes”, he hisses and groans. 

At that you open your eyes because Yoongi normally never snaps at you like that. You blink a few times. He turned the nightstand lamp on, giving view to his distressed features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“I think you should go to the bathroom, princess”, he says, licking his lips. 

“Why should I go to the bathroom? You silly kitten, I don’t even have to pee”, you mumble and close your eyes again, settling into the pillow comfortably.

“Go to the bathroom. Please. I can’t bear to be next to you”, Yoongi stresses. 

You open your eyes, studying his distressed features.

“I’m confused. What do you mean? Do I stink?” 

“On the contrary”, he whispers, croaks even, all while his fingers are digging into your shoulder in a desperate massage.

“You’re so silly”, you mumble, closing your eyes again, “why do you want me to leave when I smell nice?”

“Because you temptatious woman started your period, for fuck’s sake and I currently wanna fucking ruin you”, he hisses the words, not out of anger but pure desperation.

You open your eyes, meeting his blown out pupils and ruby irises.

“Hot.”

“No princess, not hot”, he hisses, “fuck, stop thinking everything is hot. This is serious business.”

“Yeah, bloody serious.”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, sending you an annoyed look. You grin. 

“Come on Yoongi, you must admit that joke was good.” 

“No. It was terrible. Fuck”, he groans and rolls out bed, “I’m taking a walk. You’re too much.”

You sit up, trying to ignore the wetness between your legs. 

“Don’t leave please.”

He turns, giving view to his massive fangs and black veins. You rub your soaked thighs together at the view. 

“Please take care of me”, you try. 

“Excuse me?”

“Help me clean up, please.”

“Clean it up yourself. You don’t know what I could do to you.”

“I’m sure it’s fun.”

“It’s not.”

“Please?”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at your middle. There is the smallest spot of red between your legs where you leaked. He gulps. He has been around many of your periods. He smelled the change and felt even more drawn to you during those times, but nothing could have prepared him for tonight. When he got forcefully woken up by you starting your period accidentally and soaking the sheets with the sweetest scent he has ever smelled. His head is pounding and his muscles burn from tensing them oh so much. He is so close to losing his mind, feeling on edge.

“Don’t tempt me. Just clean up.”

“Okay”, you say, removing the blanket from your body. It reveals your soaked legs and pussy to his eyes. 

The intensity of your scent makes him stumble. 

“Fuck”, he barely gets out with all the saliva in his mouth. He throws his hand over his nose, “please close your legs.”

“But it’s so uncomfortable to close my legs”, you whine.

“Stop playing”, he spits, “what do you want from me? Do you want me to break?”

“Maybe?”

“Why?”

“Because I need you”, you part your legs, “need you so bad.”

Yoongi shakes, tenses his body, growls. He is panting heavily, dripping saliva on the floor. 

“Please? I can’t do it myself”, you beg, writhing on the sheets sensually. 

“Urgh!” he lets out in an angry roar and moves.

He is on top of you, pinning you down with a strong grip and bruising your wrists on accident. It knocks the air out of you, but more than anything it makes you moan and arch into him. You writhe, fighting his grip with minimal effort. It results in his long fingers closing around your wrists tighter and his nose scrunching up as he growls in warning.

“That’s better”, you rasp, eyes glued to his dripping fangs.

“You are the worst ever”, he spits, “why do you have to push my buttons so much?”

“It’s fun”, you give him a little smile, parting your lips as you do.

Yoongi looks at it and squeezes your wrists.

“Are you sure? I’m fucking serious, are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m so sure.”

“Snowdrop’s your only hope, fucking say it the second I get too much”, he lulls the words.

“Yeah okay”, you whisper, parting your legs. You feel how that makes new blood leak out of you and on other nights it would have embarrassed you, but not tonight. Not when Yoongi growls at the scent of it and convulses on top of you as he fights his most natural instincts.

“Fuck”, he presses out and then he is gone from you. One second of nothingness, then his hot mouth is latched onto your pussy.

“Ah!” you squeak out, lifting your head in surprise. You writhe, locking eyes with him.

His brows are furrowed, his hair messy and his eyes dark red. He is pinning you down, watching you like a hunter would its prey. You reach down to twist his hair, but Yoongi breaks away from you.

Your redness covers his lower face messily.

“Holy fuck”, he speaks with two voices in his throat, panting like crazy, “holy fuck, that’s how you taste?”

“Yes?” you act shy on purpose, “is it bad?”

“Shut the fuck up, you know exactly that it’s heaven. Holy fuck”, he spits and grips your legs to open them widely. He digs his strong hands into the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend and press into the sheets beside you.

The sudden stretch makes you mewl.

“I’m fucking insane for doing this”, he is talking to himself, “this is fucking insane”, he spits and latches himself back onto your pussy.

“Yoongi god”, you mewl, squirming desperately as your legs try to close in instinct. He is swirling his tongue over your messy entrance, lapping up your blood as demonic growls rumble in his throat. He is holding you with such strength that the contact points where his long fingers meet your thighs start to ache. You don’t want him to let go for even one second, arching into him with your toes curling.

Yoongi doesn’t drink your blood. He said so. The fight you had about it still comes back to haunt you sometimes. You know that he would never drink from you. So to have him growl and moan between your legs while his long tongue cleans you messily is the closest you will get to the ecstasy that is offering your blood to him.

And you can’t handle it. You are still so droopy and disoriented from deep sleep and now you have wet, aggressive warmth lapping at your pussy. You arch your back and twist Yoongi’s hair. You can’t handle how good this makes you feel.

“Holy fuck, slow down”, you moan desperately, hating your legs for shaking against your will.

“Shut up”, Yoongi growls into you, pinning your hips down in warning, “I’m not doing that.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, squirming in his strong hold fruitlessly. He’s got you pinned. No amount of wiggling will free you now. You have to take what he gives you. Even if it borders too much, “holy shit. Oh god, fuck.” 

Yoongi uses his entire mouth on your pussy. Now bear in mind, he does that on calm days as well. He’s got the lips for it as well. Soft and pouty, just puffy enough to feel you up and so incredibly hungry for you. He sucks and kisses and grinds against your dripping pussy each time he eats you out, but tonight he is manic in the way he does it. He can’t stop sucking with such vigour that it makes your legs twitch and as he does, he growls deeply, murmuring graphic curses each time he comes up for air.

“This is heaven, this is fucking heaven”, he spits, smothering himself with your pussy as he laps at your entrance again. His button nose grinds against your clit that way, forcing a loud mewl out of you. You smell so good, Yoongi wants the scent to coat every single cell in his nose.

You grip his hair with your second hand as well. Yoongi moans because as much as you try to pull him away, you end up pushing him closer. You fucking love it when he’s rough. You can’t lie to him. Not to him. Not when he’s the only fucking person who can make you moan like this. 

“Yoongi please, Yoongi please, Yoongi. Please.”

He knows that you don’t even know what you’re begging for. You just beg when he goes down on you. 

Good. Beg. 

He fucking loves it when you do. He loves how he ruins you, how he turns you dumb and how he makes you his' without even trying. He just has to swirl his tongue just right and you are moaning his name.

Yoongi furrows his brows and pulls your hips onto his face. Your sweet scent is suffocating him. Your pussy smells heavenly on normal days, but this is insane. This is fucking insane. Yoongi feels delirious, fucking the mattress so harshly that he managed to push down his own briefs. The sheets are grinding against his cock and rubs him sore. It hurts, but he can’t stop. The harsh friction is the only thing keeping him sane. At least a little. 

He is very far from being sane right now. He is high on your blood and your pussy. Yoongi wiggles his head and grinds his nose over your clit in sync with his tongue slipping into you. 

“N-not this. It’s too good”, you squeak, trying to close your legs but Yoongi forces them open. 

“Hey”, he spits, “don’t you fucking dare close them. You fucking hear me?”

You stare at his blackened out eyes and the black veins spanning all the way down to his neck. Even the veins on his neck are darkened, pulsing quickly. The view makes you weak, but nothing ruins you as much as the view of his lower face. Your blood is covering him. Red nectar against ivory skin and black veins. Red lips puffy and pulled back enough to reveal his long fangs to you. 

“Yoongi”, you whimper.

“Are we understood?” he spits, pushing your legs apart even more. 

You cry up from the stretch, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back as best as possible. 

“Yes”, you mewl, “yes, yes, I’m- yes.”

“Good girl. Misbehaving isn’t gonna get you anywhere”, he growls and returns to his favourite spot. He pins you against him and slips his tongue back into your pussy. 

“Holy fuck.”

Yoongi agrees with a loud growl. His voice is distorted in pleasure. He abandons one of your hips for the mere purpose of twisting the sheets beside your body. He can’t do it otherwise. This is too much. He is going too far. He knows how wrong it is and yet he can’t stop. 

Your blood is covering every inch of his tongue, mixing with your sweet juices and Yoongi doesn’t know how to act. He sees eating your pussy as his favourite feed. He knows pussy doesn’t actually nourish him, but when he is between your legs and fucks your pussy with his mouth, he gets at least enough satisfaction that he feels sated for a few days. 

But this is different. This is actually feeding him. Your blood gives him nourishment. It coats his throat and runs through his veins. And Yoongi feels so fucking wrong doing it, but he can’t stop. 

He digs for more of your taste, letting his tongue grow in your pussy. It pulsates and throbs as it does. This is the closest you’ll get to feeling a heartbeat from him. His wet, girthy tongue pulsating deep in your pussy as he pumps it into you quickly. This is how alive you make him feel.

“Yoongi”, you moan and sob, “Yoongi, I’m cumming.”

Yoongi doesn’t slow down. Yoongi growls into your pussy like a maniac. Yoongi hate fucks the mattress. Yoongi grinds his nose against your clit. And Yoongi thrusts his pulsating tongue into you until he can’t go any further. 

“Yoongi!” you orgasm instantly. Fuck, he is forcing you so hard, making your entire body shake. You whimper and gasp, pulling his hair desperately. Yoongi cares rather little, moving his head against you while his fucked up tongue is fucking into you as deeply as possible. It feels thick and throbbing inside you, curling oh so deep, you wonder if what he is doing to you is healthy. 

“Yoongi please”, you sob, writhing on the mattress. Your orgasm burns so deep and he doesn’t give you any chance to recover. He fucks and licks and sucks while his strong hand keeps you pinned to him and his other hand rips the sheets. 

It’s not healthy what he does to you. He is aware of how fucking sick it is. He is right at the source, the small spot where your blood leaps out of you. He can’t go any further than that, grinding the flat of his tongue against it quickly but with all the care in the world. He knows that this spot is incredibly sensitive and that one wrong move would end in you hurting instead of shaking. It feels like fire under his tongue. Wet, hot and incredibly soft fire. 

“Yoongi please”, and you continue begging, losing your vision from just how far he pushes you. You know that he is deep. You can feel it. It feels almost like too much and yet like not enough. 

He presses down on an especially sensitive spot, making your body convulse desperately. 

“Yoong- plea- ah!” words aren’t meant to be finished by you. Not when Yoongi forces yet another orgasm out of you. It is short, hotter than fire and so strong you fear you might snap your spine from arching your back so aggressively.

You feel dizzy afterwards. Dizzy, out of breath, close to passing out. And Yoongi isn’t stopping. He fucks his tongue deeper and presses his fingers against your clit to rub her quickly. 

“Oh god, no. Holy fuuuck”, you groaned the last word but ended up wailing his name afterwards. Your legs try to close again, Yoongi pushes them open instantly, punishing the mattress in your stead with an angry thrust. He knows you’re sensitive, but he doesn’t like you closing your legs. 

You shouldn’t flee from him. This is his feeding time and it’s fucking rude to disturb him when he’s getting high so good that he feels dizzy. 

“You demon”, you sob, convulsing on the sheets, “oh god, again. Yoongi, again.”

By now, Yoongi tastes no difference between your orgasm and your normal pussy. He is too delirious to distinguish between those tastes. Everything just fills him with ecstasy. Every single droplet he forces out of you and which coats his throbbing tongue, tastes like pure, concentrated heaven. 

But you can distinguish between it. Oh how you can distinguish between it. You can’t breathe and your nerves are so sensitive that your legs ache. You know that you already squirted and your tummy is cramping so hard that it hurts. This is so torturous and you can’t handle another orgasm.

“Snowdrop please”, you beg. 

Yoongi shoots up with his tongue normal and his eyes worried. They are dark brown and glassy. His face is sweaty and covered in your blood. The veins disappeared from his cheeks. His state shows you that even if he seemed so out of control, he never was. The master of perfect control rules over his body’s most instinctive nature so well that not even your orgasming, bloodied pussy could break him. 

“My princess”, he croaks because eating your pussy like that ruined his voice, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asks, wrapping you up in his strong arms. He litters your burning cheeks with tender kisses, rocking you from side to side, “did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

“I’m fine, just…” you assure him, breathing heavily, “...you were a lot.”

“I’m sorry, holy fuck”, Yoongi cradles you against his chest, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, “I feel awful. Why did I do that? I’m so sorry you had to see this, I’ll never show it again.”

“No, you were awesome. It’s just a lot when you fucker don’t even let me breathe between orgasms. Like goddamn, I’m fighting for my life here”, you say, nudging him with the tip of your nose. 

Yoongi can’t help but crack up, chuckling quietly. He squeezes you, letting out a terribly fragile whimper of relief.

“So you’re…not disgusted?” he asks quietly.  

“Yoongi, I told you…” you lift your head, grinning up at him, “I’m the biggest monster fucker out there.”

His brows shoot up, “are you calling me a monster?”

“Duh? You were definitely one right now. Like look”, you show him your shaking knees, “I’m still shaking.”

He lowers his eyes shyly, “I’m not a monster”, he murmurs so cutely you feel the need to pin him down and smother him in kisses.

“You’re right, you’re my Yoongi Boongie”, you say, giggling happily as you bite into his soft cheek, “my sweetie, mwuah.”

“Your kisses are wet”, he murmurs, melting under you like the happiest sugardrop. 

“My pussy’s wet too”, you throw back.

He scoffs, “really?” he sounds annoyed but it’s because he is flustered.  

“Yeah. Wanna feel it?” 

“But you said it was too much.”

“I’m good again, just want more of you.” 

“I don’t know.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock lowering yourself to it so you can grind him right against you. You press him close with the flat of your palm against his cock, hugging his sensitive shaft with your soaked lips. 

“Shit, princess”, he gasps, looking down at where you’re grinding against him. You are covered in blood, soiling his cock with it as well. The view makes his cock throb and he hates that it does. He shouldn’t be so weak for this view. He should be above this, he should have stopped caring about shit like this. And yet here he is with a throbbing cock and his chest heaving up and down quickly. 

Yoongi growls and grips your hips, squeezing them tightly. You moan at the touch, pressing your dirtied pussy closer. Right where it feels the best for him. It forces him to growl and scrunch his nose up.

“It feels so good, I’m so wet.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Says the Glutton.”

He frowns, but stops when you grind his frenulum right against your clit, “fuck, princess. Fuck.”

You moan in a high pitched voice, giving him big puppy eyes. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“So sure. You?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop being a pussy and fuck my pussy.”

“You’re so dangerous”, Yoongi growls, sitting up smoothly. He grips your hips roughly, tugging you closer. Like this you would just have to tilt your head and you could be kissing, “you’re gonna get yourself hurt one day, princess.”

“I’m a masochist. I’m into it”, you only partially joke, painting amusement onto his features. 

“Fucking sink down on me before I have to force you”, he rasps. 

“Kiss me”, you order.

Yoongi obeys instantly, kissing you deeply. You sink down with a moan, forcing his chest to rumble in a deep groan of total bliss. 

“Yes princess, yes”, he encourages you, “shit, you’re so tight. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, good”, you promise, shutting him up by tongue kissing him as needily as possible. He tastes like you. Metallic. You shouldn’t like it that much, but you fucking do. You lick into his mouth, twisting his hair.

Yoongi reciprocates it gladly, groaning and sighing deliciously as you begin bouncing on his cock. A growl rumbles in his chest, the kiss breaks because you needed to gasp from the sensation.

“You like that?” he lulls.

“Yes, I ngng”, you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut.

“So tight, your pussy’s so tight”, he chants with his eyes closed in bliss. He is guiding the movements of your hips, tugging and pushing them in a fast, rough rhythm. You should know who fucks you that good, who controls the scene. You may be on top, but Yoongi is the one to conduct every single movement, every single sigh and moan and groan.

“Your cock’s so big, I’m so stuffed”, you tell him, swallowing his needy moan by kissing him again. 

You just have to. Breathing may be hard and your hips may stutter because of it, but kissing him is all you need. His lips are addicting, his touch electrifying. His hands run to your lower back, painting goosebumps onto your skin with their touch. His stomach is grinding against your clit just enough that it feels like paradise after the amazing thing he did with his tongue. You’re so sensitive, writhing on top of him at the mere thought of it.

“Oh god”, you break the kiss to whimper, twisting his messy hair desperately. Your hips stutter, your legs shake, “Yoongi, it’s-”

“-difficult. I know”, he finishes your sentence, “I fucking ruined you, huh?” he taunts and grips you under your ass to hold you and thrust into you quickly. This is an easy task for such a monster like him and he is more than will to show you, “tell me how I ruined you. Tell me who tongue fucked your tasty, little pussy so good that you can’t walk now. Fucking tell me.”

“You”, you are sobbing into his neck, hugging him tightly. You have no idea why you decided to ride him because your body is still ruined and you are so weak that Yoongi has to actually hold you, but holy shit whatever demon possessed you, you are grateful for them. This is paradise. Hot, rough paradise, but paradise nonetheless. 

“Say my fucking name.”

“Yoongi.”

“That’s it. Fucking say it again.”

“Yoongi!”

“Yes, fuck”, Yoongi growls and changes positions. He pins you down into the sheets, hovering over you with his eyes pitch black again. Your legs are around his waist, bouncing weakly on his back as he drills his cock into you. Your hands open and close on the sheets, having no home to call theirs. 

Yoongi takes them and puts them around his neck, pinning you down with just one look.

“Hold onto me and don’t fucking let go”, he orders.

You whimper, spilling tears. You close your fingers around the back of his neck to the point where your nails dig into his skin. 

Sharp pain shoots through his body. He growls and rewards you with even harsher thrusts. 

“Yes babygirl, hurt me. Fucking make me bleed. Hear me?” he orders, nodding his head, “do you hear me?”

You nod your head with him, whimpering weakly.

“Yeah that’s right. Holy fuck”, he reveals his fangs in a snarl, “I wanna punish you so fucking bad. Look at what you’re doing to me. You disobedient, addictive brat”, he spits and shows you his anger with harsh thrusts and his right hand closing around your throat. 

He cuts off most blood flow to your brain, stealing your breath not from contact to your wind pipe but from the mere sensation of having your clarity under the tips of his long fingers. 

You begin squeaking, making sure of your promise of making him bleed by scratching down the nape of his neck.

Yoongi closes his fingers further, snarling deeply. You gasp and arch your back, feeling your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You are climaxing again. Yoongi doesn’t give a shit about it, even if you are scratching his back so deeply that parts of his skin gathered under your nail. 

“Now you’re understanding, hm?” his voice is distorted in demonic pleasure, “you think you can open your slutty little legs and tempt me with your pussy and get away with it? You’re fucking playing with fire, princess and you know that.”

“Yoon- I-”

“Oh, I’m aware. You think I can’t feel your tight, little cunt throbbing around my cock?” he growls, fucking into you as far as his huge vampire cock allows him to, “but I don’t give a shit. You’re gonna keep cumming for me until I say that you’re done. Understood?”

You sob, writhing uncontrollably.

“Understood?” Yoongi stresses, giving your head a little shake to get you back to him.

Your eyes open and spill hot tears. Your hands close around his strong underarms and squeeze weakly. 

“Yes”, you croak. 

“That’s it. This is how I want you behaving. Stupid, little girl thinking you can push my buttons. Fuck, you piss me off”, he spits and lets go of your neck. 

Blood shoots back to your head, forcing you to scream up because it causes the most aggressive and harsh chain reaction, forcing you to orgasm around his huge cock.

“Cum for me. Yes princess. Fucking cum for me, you bratty slut”, he encourages you, straightening up as he talks so he can lift your leg and twist you just enough that he can give it to you from the back. 

You are resting on your tummy halfway, feeling dizzy. Your hips are lifted, your leg is bent around his waist and held by him. Your face is still visible to him as he twists your body into a slightly unnatural position. He knows you can take it. His left hand slips to your clit and begins rubbing circles into her. You sob and kick the air, twisting the sheets as he rearranges your insides.

“You’re so fucking good on that pussy shit”, he moans, staring down at you with his black veins spanning all the way down to his pecs. They cover his arms as well, throbbing each time he pulls your hips back onto his cock. Speaking of cock. The black veins are pulsating all over his girthy shaft as well, but you currently can’t see that.

You can’t see anything other than stars and unnamed colours. But Yoongi can see them. Their colour shines through the thick layer of blood which covers him. It’s so wet and red. It’s covering your inner thighs and ass, turning his lower body into a total mess as well. 

Fuck, Yoongi feels his balls tighten at the view. He slips his hand to your ass and spreads it so he can see your stuffed pussy move around his dirtied cock. The view makes his head spin. He swore to never engage in these fucked up nights again. He spent too many centuries ruining his body with blood, sex and senseless drinking and now here he is, covered in your pretty blood and with his head pounding in pleasure. He is fucked up and the most fucked up part of it all was that he loved it. 

He loves the view, loves the feeling of your hot, wet pussy and loves the honest moans he forces out of you. 

“You’ve got me fucking faded for you, princess”, he growls, fucking your clit against the sheets with each harsh thrust. His vision is blurry because of how tight you become around him, “fucking faded…holy fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yoongi, again.”

“I know. Cum for me.”

“Oh god”, you croak and break around him. You can’t even make sounds at this point. The orgasm feels so good, but hurts so much. Your body is fucking ruined. It can’t even shake anymore, laying limp as fire consumes you. Holy fuck it feels so good. 

“Fucking fuck princess, I’m cumming”, Yoongi moans deeply, throwing his head back, “fuck, princess. Take my fucking cum. Ah!”

His cock begins throbbing in your tight pussy, filling you with his cream. His hips move sloppily, his hands can barely hold you because of how weak you got him. 

“Yes ___”, he moans, “take my cum. Shit, you’re mine.” 

“Yoongi”, you whimper, looking up at him under your tears. He looks so good when he orgasms. His body is all sweaty and his hair is soaked in it as well. His pale skin shows flushes of pink, paths of black veins and patches of your burgundy blood. He is so messy and it’s fucking incredible to look at. 

“___, my love”, Yoongi croaks and falls onto his hands. Like this, he is panting above you, looking down at you with his ebony hair framing his sweaty face. Remnants of your blood are still sticking to his cheeks, dissolving into faint red streaks under the sweat. 

Your eyes meet. You are breathless and dizzy. Yoongi is fighting for air as well, feeling aching yearning for you. He makes sure to slip out of you carefully, watching your expression for any sign of discomfort. He doesn’t find any, which makes him ache for you all the more.

“My love”, he presses out and picks you up in his arms to pull you into a deep kiss. 

You kiss him back, hooking your arms behind his head. This feels so good to do. He is so gentle and tender, reminding you just how wonderful it is to be loved by him.

“Oh, my love”, Yoongi chokes out, littering your face with kisses, “my love. My love, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, so okay”, you whisper, melting in his gentle hands, “I’m dizzy, but okay.”

“That’s so good to hear. Holy fuck, my love. I’m so proud of you. You did so, so well”, Yoongi praises you and cradles you against his chest. You sit down on his lap to make it even more intimate, leaning into him with all your weight. 

Yoongi holds you gladly, rocking your bodies from side to side slowly. He wants to hug you tighter and tighter, yearning for your warmth and the softness of your skin. 

“Good job, oh my love”, he shudders as he exhales, “fuck, I’m anxious.”

“Why?” you gasp, hugging him tighter. You can’t lift your head. It’s impossible. You feel so weak from the amazing sex you just had.

“That you hate me. I was so rough.”

“No, don’t”, you say, pressing his head close with your hand in his hair, “I would have said my safeword again if I didn’t want it. You were amazing.” 

“I can’t do rough”, he confesses and exhales shakily, “fuck, I’m so upset. I’m sorry for being so rough.”

“Yoongi, my love”, you lift your head even if it is hard. You cup his cheeks and make him look into your eyes, “please don’t apologise. You have no reason to feel guilty because I don’t feel bad. I’m not hurting and I fucking loved what you did.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really”, you kiss his forehead, “and if you worry that your true face is disgusting, it’s not. You are so beautiful, my love.”

He lowers his eyes shyly. Takes a deep breath. Exhales. 

“Thank you”, he whispers, “I needed to hear this.”

“Of course. It’s the truth.” 

Yoongi looks up at you. You can watch how his eyes fill with unbreakable and soul-consuming love for you. And then Yoongi picks you up and places you into the sheets to attack your face and neck with kisses. He makes sounds as he does. Like a little kitten eating good food. 

It makes you giggle and squeak because of how good he makes you feel. 

Yoongi lifts his head, giggling with you. You and he look into each other’s eyes. Oh how deeply you are connected.

Yoongi grins, “sorry for messing up your face”, he says, wiping at the bloody kiss marks he left all over it, “you look ruined.”

“You’re covered in blood too”, you say, “it would explain why your kisses had a slight metallic taste to it.”

“Yeah”, he laughs breathily, “fuck. I can’t believe I did that. This was fucking sick.”

“It’s not. You didn’t bite me and I wasn’t in pain at all. Allow yourself that little treat.”

“Little treat?” he widens his eyes, “princess, this wasn’t a little treat. I just drank your blood from your pussy. You think this is a little treat?” he furrows his brows, “I feel faded. This was insanity.” 

You snicker, tracing his pouty lips.

“And you loved it. Be honest.”

He huffs out air, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“You’re the worst person ever”, he murmurs, “why are you so…so…so”, he cups your face and shakes it gently, “I have rules for myself, rules I’ve been following for millennia. Stop making me break them. You have to stop being so addictive. Do you hear me?”

You laugh, “mhm no”, you say, scrunching your nose up, “you gotta deal with it for eternity.”

“Fuck princess love”, he gets out and drops down on you, snuggling his nose into the crook of your neck, “I wanna be mad at you, but how can I when you’re so cute?”

You giggle, hugging him tightly.

“You’re cute too.”

“Mhm”, he hums and squeezes you, “I didn’t clean you up at all. My bed’s a mess.”

“I know”, you laugh, “you kinda managed to make it stronger too. It’s been leaking out of me ever since you’re lying on me.”

“Sorry, that’s probably my cum too”, he says and puts more of his weight on your tummy.

“Yoongi stop”, you squeak in laughter, “you’re making me leak.”

Yoongi laughs and does it again.

“Stop. It’s so wet and yucky”, you complain, spanking his butt gently.

Yoongi snickers, “sorry”, he says, shifting his weight, “it’s funny to mess with you.”

“Wah so mean”, you mumble.

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, “I’ll run you a hot shower, yeah? It’s the least I can do after ruining you.”

“I’d like that, my love. But only when you’re taking the shower with me.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

You and Yoongi sleep in your bed after washing up, cuddling and kissing until you both fall asleep. The next morning, Yoongi is gone from bed and you wake up to breakfast waiting for you on a tray on the bedside table, a small basket filled with period products next to it and a note telling you that he was in his wing cleaning the bed and that he can’t stop thinking about last night. 

[aajjks]

The Devil Wears Glasses (m)

Synopsis. you were a bitch and he was your puppy.

Pairing: jungkook x Reader

Genre: bully au, mature. Fluff, angst.

warnings: sêxǔäl thèmès, YÂNDÈRÈ, dïrty thêmês, büllyïng, másôchïst kôôk, mâtürè thèmès, jèálôúsy, pôsèssïvènèss, pröfânïty.

note. OH MY GOD GUYS I JUST KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE HIM. HE’S SO UNPREDICTABLE AND THERE’S A HUGE SURPRISE SO LOOK OUT FOR THAT. ;) you can send asks for him, so let’s welcome a new jk into the multi.

You are such a bitch.

Oh you are the bitchiest person to ever grace this planet. How can you be so insensitive? You are heartless.

You deserve to burn in the deep flames of hell. Do you even have a heart? Were you even a human at this point? You could be a witch. Oh! Yes, that must be it, because...

You have got him tranced.

What does he even see in you? Jungkook is not sure, You are only a pretty face, with a hot smokin body, But that was about it.

He should hate your guts because he hates people like you.

Because you are a bully.

And he is a sweetheart. An innocent young man. While? You are the spawn of the devil. There you stand right in front of him, Jungkook fixes his glasses, feeling so nervous.

His heart is thumping, so loud.

“Puppy!” You call out to him, his eyes widen, you’re right in front of him and his mind is going blank. He stands tall over you, but you’re the one who is in control.

It’s so obvious and ironic.

You’re so pretty. And that cruel smile on your face, is making his pants grow tighter. Fuck, you’re not supposed to have this effect on him.

“P-Please don’t pity me.” He utteres in a small voice. You raised your eyebrow as your “friend” giggles.

“Oh, aren’t you a little masochist, puppy?” You coo at him, leaning in and whispering the words in his ears. He shudders, goosebumps on his neck. A sadistic laugh leaves your lips. Your eyes fall on his face.

Red as a tomato.

He seems to be lost as you trail your freshly manicured fingers on his rather hard chest. Your finger stops for a moment, can’t believe that you’re feeling his chest up.. right in front of your friend.

Yes, he works out.. it’s important.

Your touch feels so good- oh, someone help him.

He looks up in surprise, his doe eyes widen as he closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “God.. this is all? A simple touch is all that’s needed to bring out the sick bastard in you?”

Your tone is mocking, cold.

He bites his lip, your words are crude but so true.

“You better complete the project, jungkook. Or else.” You spit in sarcasm, your eyes hardening, his heart flutters, He is pathetic.

He quickly nod. “y-yes I will, Y-Y-Y/N!!! I-I promise, p-please don’t get angry with m-me....” he pouts as you roll your eyes and leave him alone with your friend.

He watches with heart eyes as you walk towards the other direction of the school hallway with your minion.

God. You have such a bouncy ass, and such pretty legs. He blushes shamelessly, watching you move, his sudden lewd thoughts that surround his mind are making him feel a little embarrassed,

But you’re just so perfect.

You’ve got a perfect body, And a worth dying for laugh too?

Your laugh makes him weak in the knees. No, just a glance from you is all it takes to make him fall on his knees.

The way you walk, and the way that your hips sway make his mouth water. He stands still on his spot as his hand finds itself touching his chest, where you touched him.

He smiles, You touched him!!! Again! Was it the third time or fourth? He needed to know!!! He needed to write it down.

He needed to! But.. first, he needed to give you the already completed project. He smirks.

He turns to walk where you are now.

Slowly and cautiously.

...he feels like a really bad boy for lying to you... but as much as he deserves to be punished.. he can’t bring himself to give a fuck.

And also... if he didn’t lie then how would he get to see your pretty face and feel your touch? And listen to you cuss him.

God.. that turns him on so much.

Your pretty mouth saying such dirty words... he gulps quickly. His throat is getting dry.

But he adores it the most when you called him puppy.

That was so romantic!! It was such a lovely term of endearment. His heart flutters abnormally when you called him that.

He is your puppy. “gah, I love her so much.” He gushes to himself as he walkea slowly. “She’s so lovely.. I’m going crazy.” He breathes. Walking so carelessly, lost in his fantasies as he bumped into a person.

It was yunho.

His right hand man. Jungkooks face does a complete 180 change, now, jaw clenched and his eyes... hard. “Watch where you’re going, fucker. This was the First and last time. I’ll fucking shoot you next time.” He growls in a dangerously low tone.

Making sure that you can’t hear him.

Yunho eyes widen with fear. “I-I am so sorry Sir but... this was important..” he stutters. Looking down at the floor. The weight of jungkooks murderous eyes on him is making him regret every single decision in his life.

Jungkook looks around to see that the whole hall was finally empty. Everyone has gone to their classes, even you, he scoffs in annoyance.

This fucker is going to die.

“Spit.”

“W-We found him. The guy you asked for...”

Jungkook smirks. “Great.” at least now he will get to get his frustrations out on someone, he doesn’t exactly appreciate your stupid bitchy attitude, but- you manage to get him hard so.

Oh today is really a great day, Now he could finally be his real self. He’s getting tired of hiding to you, of course. It’s just been awhile since he got to kill someone.

He loves being always be your ever so loyal puppy, but now it’s about time he makes you his bitch.

But to the underworld. He was Jeon Jungkook.

The biggest fucking gang leader of South Korea.

Jungkook fixes his glasses once again, these glasses are fucking annoying- he needs to take them off- his eyesight is perfectly fine, but he looks cute in them like you said-

“where is my fucking homework?” He asks.

He only does your homework, and his people do his, sometimes he’s not sure what the fuck he’s doing.

he doesn’t even understand what he’s doing here because he doesn’t need to study. He just needs to take care of the business, but ever since you caught his eye when he was visiting this University, since his mother had insisted.

He wanted to be with you.

“I-I have it in my bag!”

“Fuck off now.” He growls, and Yunho doesn’t need to be told twice.

Oh, the things Jungkook does for you. It’s OK.. once he has you? You are going to find out about everything. Just a little bit more.

You were just the spawn of the devil. But he was the fucking devil himself.

[wttcsms]

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader  word count 4.2k  synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it. 

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist. 

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not. 

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him. 

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again. 

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane. 

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway. 

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on. 

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise. 

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side. 

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you. 

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway. 

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?” 

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in. 

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends… 

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough. 

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing. 

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer. 

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no. 

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate. 

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support. 

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left? 

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.” 

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for. 

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through. 

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics. 

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not. 

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both. 

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine. 

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home. 

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat. 

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself. 

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again. 

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips. 

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises. 

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault. 

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice. 

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours. 

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.” 

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know. 

“I’ll jog your memory.” 

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid. 

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel. 

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge. 

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent. 

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down. 

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock. 

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it. 

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out. 

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it. 

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him. 

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess. 

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it. 

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real. 

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze. 

Satoru. 

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

[lis-likes-fics]

It's Gonna Be a Scream!

Pairings: Stu Macher x Reader Word Count: 3.7 words Kink: Erotic Photos Warnings: NSFW, smut, erotic photography, swearing, fingering, oral (f and m! receiving), multilple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, sadistic and masochistic tendencies, creampie, praise kink, slight degradation kink... A/N: This is a day late but I got it done! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much! Feel free to add yourself onto the taglist for message me to be added! Link posted below.

You shake your head as another click fills the room. You ignore him and readjust your position in bed, laying on your belly with your papers splayed before you. Your boyfriend looks at you through his brand new camera, which you'd gotten him for Christmas. He's been prancing around you all day, taking all the pictures of you while he giggles and tells you to “smile all pretty for me”.

“Stu, baby,” you sigh when he lies down on his back in front of you, laying on top of your homework and effectively halting your studies. “I'm trying to focus.” You can't help the chuckle he pulls out of you when he flashes you an adorable grin.

He reaches underneath him and pulls out all of your work, glancing at it before tossing it into the air and letting it fall to the floor. You ignore it. “Well, you shouldn't be. It's Christmas, and you're sitting here doing homework. You're boring.” He says this as he gently pokes his finger into your shoulder, moving to hook his finger around the dainty golden chain of your new necklace. It was his gift to you, it had both your initials on a tiny little heart. It sat along your collarbone, cold and pleasant against your skin.

“Stu,” you try to complain. “Let me finish this last bit, and we can watch a movie or something. Whatever you want.”

He points his finger at your face, not moving when you lean forward and bite the tip of it gently. “Don't say that,” he laughs, “Or you'll be watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

You scoff, “Again? You'd think you would get tired of it by now.”

He flashes a wide smile, “Never, baby.”

You make a sound of disgust, shoving him out of your face so he rolls over onto the floor. He lets go of the camera to keep it on the bed as he lands with a thud.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up on his knees and looking up at you from the floor. He leans forward, his lips pressing to yours as you smile and suck on his bottom lip. You giggle against his mouth when your teeth take his lip between them. He just kisses you back, a little rougher as he growls playfully against you—he's just being weird.

You hear the click again and pull back to see him taking a picture of you kissing. “You're insufferable.”

“Shh-t-t-t,” he smiles, kissing you again as he takes your face in his hands. You melt against his lips, your lips parted as his tongue slips between them. His hands press to your shoulders and he rolls you onto your back.

Shifting up, he stands above you as he continues to hold your face, his lips mashing with yours. He pulls away, grabbing his camera again. He aims the lens at you, and you roll your eyes, chuckling lightly.

“Smile for me, baby,” he grins, lining his shot.

With a sigh, you look at the camera and smile softly. He licks his lip, clicking the shutter button. “Make it sexier,” he says.

You scoff, parting your lips and letting your lashes flutter, your eyes hooded. He shakes his head in disbelief of you and your beauty, taking more pictures and requesting “sexier, sexier, sexier” each time.

“I don't know what you want me to do, Stu,” you say, removing one hand from the dip of your thigh and the other from your partially exposed collarbone.

“Well, you're doing perfectly,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, grabbing at his body until he ends over and kisses you again. His lips slide off yours and up to your neck, his teeth nibbling at the skin as his fingers play with your shirt. After a moment, he bares his teeth around your throat and bites down, just out the pure impulse to do so. You moan at the feeling tangling your fingers in his hair. He continues kissing you, laving his tongue hungrily over your flesh as he slowly pulls at your shirt. When he's got it off, he admires your covered breasts with his hands and your breath shudders at the feeling of it.

He doesn't bother trying to undo it from the back. He wraps his fingers around the bottom and pulls it over your head. His tongue traces down the valley of your chest and licks up to one of your nipples, taking it between his lips and flicking it.

“Stu,” you breathe, inhaling the scent of his cologne as he body leans over you.

He seems to be enjoying himself by the way he hums around your nipples, playing with one as he savors the other. You feel slick gathering between your thighs as you lay there, your fingertips brushing over his body.

His hand wanders from your breast and smooths down your tummy, down to the waistband of your tiny shorts, that he simply slips underneath as he presses his hand to your mound. Your hips pump forward slightly, a slight moan getting caught in your throat as he smiles around your nipple.

He separates from your breasts to get a good look at you, untying the strings around your waist and peeling the shorts off your body. Biting his lip at your lacey red panties, he shudders at the sight of them. After a brief pause, you hear his camera sound.

“Stu!” you exclaim, your words breathy with a laugh. You smack his sides, pinching them for more effectiveness.

He squirms, laughing, “Ow—Hey! I can't help it if you're so cute!”

“Ugh!”

He giggles like a child as he pulls down your panties to show your smooth little pussy. “Well, Merry Christmas to me.” He bites his lip. “Is this all for me?”Another camera shutter, you shudder. “God, you're fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your hips jerk when his fingers rub along the seam of you, collecting the arousal that had gathered there. You stifle a moan when you hear his lips smack softly after his fingers leave you. “You taste so good,” he hums, tracing your entrance again before pushing in. You hum as his fingers part your lips, starting out with two long slender fingers that already stretch you out real nice.

You moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, which drapes over your face as you feel his body leaning over your own. You lean forward just enough to kiss his lower belly, clenching around his fingers as they massage that part inside of you he knows drives you crazy.

He takes another picture, and you suck his fingers in with your insecurity. His thumb presses to your clit. You grip his waist a little tighter, pulling body down just enough to kiss his belly again.

After a moment, he breaks from you, standing back up to tower over you. You take his belt, keeping him closer as you start unbuckling it, effectively sidetracking him as you start pulling them down his legs.

He stares at you as he pulls the camera up to you. As his cock springs free and you press your lips to his pelvis, his warm length against your cheek. “Just like that, baby,” he smiles, a red light glowing from the camera as he records you. “Just like that.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him a few times as he sighs, a bead of precum leaking from the slit as you bring his tip to your lips to lick it off. You lave your tongue against the head, sucking him into your mouth with a little hum.

He presses his hips forward slowly, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your tongue and taunting your gag reflex. His hand squeezes your breast, smacking it lightly as you suckle around him.

He smooths his hand up your chest until it settles it around your throat, slowly pulling out to the tip before pushing back into your mouth until his balls press against your nose. You gag lightly as he slots into your throat, a huff leaving his chest as he feels himself bulging in your throat under his palm.

“Suck on it, sweetheart. There ya go,” he encourages, pulling out and pumping back in again. He builds a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of your throat as he slowly quickens his speed. But he doesn't do too much, saving himself as he enjoys the view of you taking his cock down your throat, the camera capturing every moment for him to relive the moment whenever he likes.

Your hand is settled between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit. You gag sometimes when he does a little too deep, but you're so used to him by now that it's not a problem as you moan when you have breath to.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hard and hot at the feeling of your tight throat. “Good girl.”

When you suck around him, his hips jerk slightly before he's lingering somewhere in the back of your throat and pulling out. You take in a deep breath, placing a hand on his hip to keep him back.

“Beautiful, babe,” he praises, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it a few times before he squeezes the base with a groan.

You scoot yourself more onto the bed as you lay there, catching your breath as he pans the camera closer to your face. His smile is wider now, a sinister undertone to his as he captures your wet lips covered with precum and saliva, your lust blown eyes blinking away the tears on the sides of your face. “Absolutely beautiful.”

He ends the recording, leaning down to kiss your sloppy face before he rounds the bed to join you. He sits across from you, taking your hips in his hands, bending down to kiss your chest. His lips slide against your skin until he's reached your belly, his tongue licking at your slit before he wraps his mouth around you and starts licking into your pussy.

You grip the sheets, clenching your thighs lightly around his head. You lay your head back, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. His tongue plunges between your folds, licking into you as making you squirm.

You roll your head back, grinding your hips into his face. As you spit his camera on the bed, you take in between your hands and examine the equipment. “How do I do it?” you ask between breaths.

He looks up at you and smiles. “That button to record, that one to take a picture.”

Tentatively, you press the record button as you look at the feed it shows you. He smiles and digs back in, his tongue flicking and suckling at your clit. You moan as he does it. He's too good with his tongue.

After a moment, he thrusts two fingers into you and looks at you, your face blocked by the camera. “You like that?”

You nod, “Yeah.” His fingers brush deeply inside of you, and you whimper a little at the feeling.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he laughs. “Nasty slut.” He sticks his tongue out to his chin to lick a long stripe up your cunt, closing his mouth around you at the end of it. Your hips jerk as he hums his laugh against you.

He seems to thrive under the shot of the camera, his drama increasing to over-exaggerate the process, but you don't mind. You watch him, lust-stricken as you hold the camera up with shaky hands. His fingers pump into you, his tongue licks at you, his lips suck on your clit. Your back arches and your stifled moans become a little looser as your need to cum slowly builds within you, his mouth bringing it closer as he gives you a perfect view.

You reach one hand down to his hair, combing your fingers through it before you grip lightly at a particular pump of his fingers. Your lips part as your breath becomes unsteady. “Baby, fuck—I'm gonna cum.”

He hums, sing-songy as he keeps sucking on your clit, pressing his fingers deeper and curling them just right. "Please, I’m gonna cum, Stu."

He coaxes you closer and closer, playing you like an expert. A knot builds in the pit of your stomach and you tense as the impending release hangs over your head. When the coil snaps and you're overcome with the bliss it brings, you moan breathily and shudder. Stu smiles at the way you suck his fingers in. He continues fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around him, easing you through your orgasm. You chant his name under your breath, riding out your high against his face with an insistence he adores.

“Good girl,” he eases you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your and admiring the result of his work. He stares directly into the lens as he places his fingers on his tongue and sucks.

You catch your breath as you come down from your high, lazily ending the video. He takes the camera from you, snapping pictures of your disheveled face as he pulls you by your hips onto his lap as you lay back.

His hands stroke the length of your sides, and you grab his wrists to stroke them. He smiles at you, standing on his knees and planting his fists into the bed next to your head. He kisses your lips softly and flips you onto your stomach. He grasps your hips roughly, pulling you up to your knees and pressing you back against him to feel his erection against your cheeks. You moan lightly, pressing your back and grinding your ass against him.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsks, smacking your ass harshly and moaning at the sharp sound of his hand on your skin. “Be good for me, sweetheart.”

Stu pumps his cock in one hand, picking up his camera again as he pans the lens up and down the length of your back, the dip of your spine caressed by his fingers as he traces it. You shudder, holding yourself up carefully as you do.

He takes his cock, pressing his tip between your folds and pushing his hips into you, inch by inch as he fills you slowly to the brim with him. Your eyes flutter and you moan deeply as his thick, hot length thrusts inside.

Stu groans, grinding his own hips into you once he's fully seated inside, making sure he got every second of it on film. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Fucking perfect for me”

You let your head fall onto your crossed arms. Stu presses his hands to your back, holding you down as he pulls out to the tip, only to split you open once more on his cock. You let out a breathy moan, letting the pleasure blossom within you. You clench around him, sucking him in as he takes you from behind.

You whimper his name. He doesn't bother going slow on you. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you back up so he can fuck you nice and deep. He holds the camera as steady as he can as his hair travels to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat so he can move your hips to meet each thrust.

His rhythm is rough and fast. He snaps into you, your body bouncing with each in and out of his cock. Your clit throbs between your legs, and your arousal is dripping down your thighs with each thrust. “S-Stu,” you moan breathlessly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, giving you a rougher thrust just to pull another moan out of you. “You like when I fuck you like this?” He laughs, tightening his hand around your throat. “Of course you do. You're a good little whore, aren't you?”

You just nod, appreciating his hand around your throat. It's tight and your breath is thinner going through to your lungs, but your clit throbs and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest at the sensation.

Stu pans the camera down to your ass, where his cock disappears and reappears with each thrust. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You're fucking suckin’ me into you.”

He ruts into you, splitting you apart on his cock as he drives it in and out of your dripping cunt. He fills you with a mind-numbing pleasure that throws you in a daze as you take it all. You squeeze his cock as your legs tremble, sucking him in each deeper as the slap of his hips becomes louder with your slick building up.

All too quickly he pulls out. He pushes you onto your back with little regard to gentleness. You haven't caught up yet by the time he's pulling your hips closer and shoving his cock back inside.

You stare at the camera as he directs it at your face, fucked out as you moan so nicely for him. It captures your bouncing tits, the pumping of his cock into your tight pussy. Every nerve ending burns with pleasure. Every movement licks at you like the flickers of a fire. You clench around him as he presses himself deeply within you, moaning his name at the feeling of his hips fucking into yours.

Stu’s lips part as he watches you, his head falling back as he moans before looking back at you again, hungry at the sight of your body. He loves your body. Your skin is soft and malleable. He bets that if he pressed a silver blade to your flesh, it would slice so nicely. He'd watch the red slip from the wound and decorate your pretty skin.

He wouldn't hurt you too bad. No, against his better judgment, he loved you too much. And, besides, he's got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you've got him around yours.

By now you'd invite the pain. If he took a belt to your back, you would cum when he beat welts into your skin. If he put a knife to your throat, you'd bare your neck to him and tell him to do it. Even now, as his hands slots around your throat once more and squeezes, you huff a moan and squeeze around his cock.

“Look at the camera, baby,” he breathes, moving his thumb from your neck to give you air to speak. He doesn't stop, still fucking into you just as roughly. “Tell ‘em who you belong to.” You whimper. “Go on, tell him. Who's the only person who can make you feel this nice, babygirl?”

You reach a hand to his waist as he leans in to get a better view of your face. Stringing words together to create a coherent sentence, you speak, “Y-you. Fuck, only you, Stu.”

“Say it again, baby.”

His finger presses to your clit and you lose breath when it does, moaning a little louder as he massages it to coax you to a release. “F-Fuck. Only you can…make me f-feel so good, Stu.”

He smiles wide, rubbing your clit a little faster as a reward. “Good girl,” he praises. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod desperately. “Yes! Fuck, yes.”

His grin widens, his thrusts getting sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his release. He curses under his breath, “Come on, babygirl. Cum for me.”

The coil snaps as you do, throwing your head back as you're blinded by the pleasure. “Stu!” you exclaim, moaning loudly as you cum, sucking him in with each flutter of your pussy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he rambles, joining you as he's pushed over the edge of ecstasy. He cums with a loud groan, shoving his cock inside of you as he paints your walls white. You milk him, taking everything he gives to you as the pleasure builds inside of you like a heavy crescendo.

You trembled and moaned as he spills inside of you with a rough thrust deep inside you, tiny little ones following after to fuck his cum a little deeper. Stu leans forward and smacks his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he moans deeply. You wrap your heavy arms around his neck to keep him there, lazily kissing him with just as much passion, both of you forgetting the camera laying forgotten on the bed, the lens still pointed at your sloppy kiss.

You bite his bottom lip, taking it between your teeth and digging them inside until you draw blood. He swears he could've cum again as you keep kissing him, sucking on his lip as you do.

He grinds lazily inside of you as the last few sparks of pleasure dot your skin. Stu smiles against your lips, pulling back as he giggles. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You smile, his joy contagious as you join his little giggle. “I love you, too.” You kiss him again, addicted to the taste of him.

Pulling back again, he stares at your face and nods to himself. “I'm keeping you forever.”

And he will. Because ever since he fell in love with you, he's been shaping you to be like him. And, by the time September rolls around next year, you'll be just as fucked up as him that Billy will have to let him keep you. You'll be his forever, and you'll be perfectly happy with that because you love him just as much.

He pulls out of you with a sigh, and you whine at the empty feeling that sprouts in your belly. He picks up the camera again and makes sure to capture every inch of you: the light sheen of sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the wetness of your swollen lips, the hickeys he had worked into your skin, the swell of your breasts, the cum stuffed in your dripping pussy, his claim marked in you forever. He briefly wonders if he should carve his initials into your skin.

He smiles wide, pointing the camera at your face again. “We're gonna make so many movies together,” he prides, bending down to kiss you once more. With his excitement simmering in his chest, he chuckles quietly. “It's gonna be a scream, baby!”

Stu Macher taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

[cillivnz]

THE OTHER WOMAN [anakin skywalker]

pairing. ANAKIN SKYWALKER x JEDI!READER

trope. unrequited love, ‘the other woman’.

word count. 1.6k

warnings. 18+. f!reader, cursing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, heavy angst, rough sex, no aftercare, degradation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, size kink, tummy bulge, creampies, crying, unrequited pining, clit-play, sadism & masochism, emotionally vulnerable reader and unavailable anakin.

a/n. personal experiences inspired this. could possibly be the prologue to a series, depends on reception. single quotes ‘’ indicate telepathic communication. descriptions are not intended to offend, just to depict a state of vulnerability.

“HIT ME!” MOANED THE MASOCHIST, “NO,” SNEERED THE SADIST.

Love’s a silly little thing that’s made Saints do questionable things, so how were you expected to be any different as a Jedi with tainted ethics? Except, the sole purpose of being one— a Jedi, is to be damn near a Saint. Well, you’re near one, now.

With your face buried in his sheets, and his cock buried inside you.

“Ani— fuck,” you sighed in fulfilment.

this was home, homely; beneath him every night after a long day of you awaiting the sight of him in the Temple, and for him, distracting himself by killing all evil and bottling up all thoughts of his lost love.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that?” You flinched at the smack landing on your ass cheek. The hopes of him rubbing the supple flesh to soothe the pain went in vain.

The sole reason for the success of your “relationship” or even why Anakin agreed to your pathetic advances in the first place was because you were symbiotic, yin and yang of a very wicked balance.

HE LIKED INFLICTING PAIN, YOU LIKED BEING INFLICTED UPON.

When Padmé Amidala left the Coruscant for Naboo, abandoning her Ani with a broken heart, you volunteered to pick the pieces.

“ANAKIN, TALK TO ME,” you urged, clutching onto his onyx Jedi robes. His jaw clenched, an eyebrow irking at your audacious hand placement.

“Leave me alone,” he pushed himself away from you, but you were adamant as ever.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Your gut churned out a warning, intituition telling you you’re digging a hole that’s bound to be deeper than the bond you’ve formed with Anakin Skywalker over the decade of knowing him— from Slave to Saviour of the galaxies.

His head whipped towards you, his broad back tensing as he turned threateningly slowly towards you.

“I can,” you were unsure of what you were going to propose— hell, you were unsure of what you were even going to say.

‘I can make you forget her.’

He sneered, you squirmed.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.”

First pet name Anakin Skywalker learned to use, coincidentally, too, for you. He had heard a sleazy man on Tattooine say it to his mother. For the longest time, he had thought of it to be vulgarity, until little Skywalker used it for you in front of Obi-wan and was quick to learn that it expresses endearment, not disdain.

After ten years he calls you ‘sweetheart’, and you knew better than to blush over it, but you were flushed, anyway.

You strip yourself bare; physically and egotistically. You lay yourself bare for your first love to unravel, even if there wasn’t much to remove physically; you were laying your soul bare to him, for him.

Mere virgin, inexperienced and shielded. Jaded just from communicating with two-timers, but so, so willing to bend over backwards and break your back for Anakin Skywalker’s mercurial self and pretty face.

While he sees your naked flesh on display for him, you see the first emotion on Anakin’s face that was not indignation towards you. Desire. He desired you, but the speed at which he masked his emotions proved to you that it wasn’t half of what he felt for her.

“You have no idea what you’re setting yourself up for.” He grabbed your chin with his metallic arm, one you’ve admired for the valour that gave it to him and one you’ve shamelessly fantasised about.

One snap was all it would’ve taken for him to break you in half with that faux robotic limb, but Anakin wouldn’t do that. Not just yet.

“What makes you think you can compare to her?”

“She is the kindest, strongest, most generous and most beautiful woman in the galaxy. What makes you think you can compare?”

What really makes you think you can compare?

You’ve been selfish, cursing the entirety of their relationship, which was as one-sided as your love for him.

You’ve been impatient, reckless and impulsive, and it’s evident in your performance as a Jedi.

You can’t even fulfil your sole purpose because, by Maker, he’s clouded your mind with himself and left little room for rationality.

‘I can try,’ you think, and of course he’d read it. ‘To fill the void.’

‘Let me in, please.’

‘Please let me try.’

“Bend over, ass up, face down.”

That’s how you two started, and how you persist.

He insists on fucking you in the same position, same force and speed of his thrusts, every night.

You know better than to ask for more. Maker’s giving you more than you deserve, isn’t it? Gratitude has been a virtue of yours, so you stick to it.

Even if there are days when he doesn’t show up to your room, knock curtly thrice before barging in to find you stripped and on your knees for him, you still love him.

He’s forgiven, he’ll always be.

You take those days to forget him, to jump down the Tower instead of climbing further up the spiralling stairs of a love doomed before it blossomed.

Anakin Skywalker only brings despair with him, a fact even the Order knows now.

“An-ah!—Anakin, slow down!” You squealed, his thrusts never faltering.

He was taking out his frustration for the Maces of the Order onto you.

“Shut up and take it,” he grunted, going faster.

You were crying, a mere mess in his bed.

The tip of his cock was assaulting your g-spot, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You felt him there, too, snaking a hand down to your tummy to feel the bulge of him going in and out of your tight channel.

He rubbed your clit vigorously; the swollen bundle of nerves had been begging for his attention, which, his balls slapping against it was sufficing, but the extra heed paid had you writhing in overstimulation.

You were sobbing, softly, but loud enough for him to hear over the sound of skin-on-skin slapping and his own haggard breath.

He pulled out, making you clench around just his tip. It was like your body was trying to keep him in.

“Can’t have me stay and can’t have me go,” he said under his breath. He spread your cunt with his hands, watching your abused hole leak your juices.

He eyed you for several moments, making you self-conscious as jolt away from him. He only spreads you further apart to spit into your hole.

Your body jerked away from him, but his metallic fingers were faster in being shoved inside of you.

The cold metal felt like ice to your hot insides, the juxtaposition of a sensation sending a shiver down your arched spine.

“Oh, you like this?” His human hand cupped your mound. “Is cock too much for your little pussy to handle?” He mocked, but you sensed a tinge of amusement underlying his tone.

“You have one purpose, and you fail to meet it.” He pulled out his fingers, causing your head to snap back to look at him.

You see him seated on the bed, leisurely stroking his cock as if he has all the time in the world, no necessity for release while you ached to come undone.

‘I’ve given you more than she has.’

Anakin’s cock may be the biggest in this galaxy, but your pride’s bigger in every other.

His jaw clenched, but his cock twitched.

With one swift leap, he was on top of you— the predator atop his prey— pounced and ready to penetrate— eat you alive.

“Not a word out of you, y’hear?”

“Not. One. Word.”

He aligned the tip of his member with your tight entrance and forced his way in, fucking you dumb with merciless thrusts, just the way you wanted.

You were drooling, panting, screaming, moaning, crying, all while Anakin drove his hips into yours wordlessly.

The silence was eerie and scary, not even a grunt was sounded, and how you yearned to hear his groans of pleasure, knowing they were for you.

He then moaned, once again reading your mind with that impeccable bond of Force that Maker’s aligned your souls with, but your heart nearly dropped to your cunt when he said,

“Padmé, fuck.”

You clenched out of instinct, spinal cord taking over all senses while your brain was too weak, too fucked to react.

A normal person with self-respect would ask him to get the fuck out and never, ever come see you again, but you had ego, not the former, and the difference between the two is what’s allowing you to let him finish and go, like every other night, like a part of you would normalise this foreplay as long as you feel his touch— feel wanted by him.

When his seed tainted your walls once more, you sighed in relief. You couldn’t bear to look at him with tearful eyes.

You hear him shuffle into his robes, then silence, yet his presence was still felt.

You hear the doorknob twist, so you turn around to lie on your back, not expecting a lurking Anakin lingering by the doorframe. You peer at him through wet lashes, doe-eyes reduced to slits while you reciprocated the venom exuding out of Anakin for the first time towards him, clenching your jaw. Your chest huffed with forced respiration, drawing Anakin’s attention to your breasts.

It was then he used the force not to hear the string of curses flowing through your mind for him, but to talk to you, for the first time.

And for the first time he ever said,

‘If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t come to you.’

“Like” isn’t “love”,

But it is something—

‘—But you mean nothing to me, so your love is useless.’

‘And I won’t always be around as the other woman,’ you were going to go berserk.

But which one of you was lying, sneering sadist or moaning masochist?

main masterlist. more of Anakin. blog directory.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking: part two

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and story under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, reader x other men, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture/ashtray, cigarettes, consumption of non-food items, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

i. dessication

When he goes to work, he leaves you free to roam the house and do your chores. For shorter trips out, he tends to put you in your cage. There’s no real reason, but it keeps you in a good place. You’re always softer, quieter when he gets back and lets you out. 

He couldn’t do it all the time, of course. There are things needing to be done. Plus, every day, he gets to come home to you knelt, waiting by the door with dinner kept warm. He could afford a housekeeper, but then you’d have nothing to keep your mind and body occupied when he’s away. 

Of course, sometimes he leaves you chained up in the basement. He can’t always be nice, after all. And the thing he loves to come home to most, second only to you kneeling at the door, is your exhausted body still tied where he left it, bearing the marks of his latest pleasure. 

Sometimes, he just leaves you in stocks to contemplate all the raw kisses from his favorite whip. Sometimes, he has you pinned to the table with a vibrator strapped to your clit for the day. On the lowest setting—he’s not a monster. 

Well. It starts on the lowest setting. He can do whatever he wants with it through a handy app. It was the only way Tommy could convince him to upgrade to a smartphone.

But today, you’re just set about neatening up. Neither you nor Joel are messy— though he does have a tendency to empty his pockets wherever he’s standing—and it’s not a huge house. You finish up early and have time to read while supper’s in the oven. 

You’re already kneeling when you hear the key in the door, eyes down, hands behind your back, but you have to tense up not to flinch when you hear a second pair of boots.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” drawls a voice you don’t know. 

The only reason you don’t panic is because Joel’s boots enter your field of vision. You’re intimately acquainted with them—literally—and despite the fresh layer of dirt, you’d know them anywhere. 

“Ooh, damn, she’s good,” says the voice.

Joel chuckles and reaches down to stroke your cheek. “Told ya.” 

You melt a little against his hand, letting the pride in his voice warm you.

He rubs his thumb over your cheek and lets you press a little kiss to the digit before stepping back to take his shoes off and dump the handful of change and crumpled receipts on the foyer table. “C’mon,” he says, snapping his fingers so you know he means you, too.

You resist the urge to look at the stranger, but you don’t like the way he lingers to follow you instead of following Joel. You can feel his eyes on your exposed flesh, the dress just short enough to show off your cunt when you crawl. 

No one has ever come into the house before. At least not when you’re out and about. You don’t know if Joel’s had company while you’ve been in the basement or something; you’ve never even thought about it. All you know is that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen another person. 

It’s terrifying. 

You go to kneel between Joel’s feet, but he stops you. “Turn around,” he says, guiding you with firm hands to face forward. 

He laughs when he sees that you’re still staring very carefully at the carpet. “Y’can look at him; he ain’t gonna bite.”

The other man, who has settled in the armchair facing the couch, laughs too. “I might,” he says.

“No, you won’t.” Joel’s voice goes hard for a moment, and you don’t need to see to know he’s glaring. 

It makes you feel better. So what if someone’s looking at you? Joel’s still protecting you. 

He lifts your chin up so you have to look at the other man. He’s broad, though not as much as Joel, with dark curls and dark eyes that make you feel like he wants to cut you open and see how you tick. 

“This is my little brother, Tommy,” Joel says. “Go tell him hello.” 

“Hello,” you say quietly. 

“C’mon, now, go give him a proper greeting,” Joel nudges you with his foot. You crawl over to Tommy and kneel between his legs. Your gaze darts from him to Joel, teeth worrying at your lip. 

“Don’t embarrass me, girl,” Joel warns.

Tommy lifts your chin with his hand. “He wants you to suck me off. Go ahead.” 

It’s nice, but it’s not his permission you need. You risk one more glance at Joel. 

“You heard him. You got two seconds, sweetheart, before you’re gonna regret it,” he growls.

“You goin’ soft? You usually have ‘em trained better by now,” Tommy teases, but his words have Joel seeing red. 

You sit back. “What?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, did you think you were special?” Tommy says with a nasty smirk. He pats your face. “Poor thing.”

You look at Joel, tears welling up. 

“What, you think I had a house full of equipment that’s never been used? Y’should be grateful. All my toys before you had to suffer some trial and error. I got it perfected now, and you’re wasting it, being a fuckin’ disobedient bitch.” 

You close your eyes tight and choke back a sob. He’s never, ever spoken to you like that before. When you turn back to Tommy, you have your mouth open wide and waiting.

He leans back. “Well? You gonna make me do all the work?”

“Can I use my hands, please?” you say, eyes darting from Tommy to Joel. 

“Great, now you got her all nervous,” Tommy bitches, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Go ahead,” Joel tells you gruffly. You’ve been so good. So obedient. Maybe he shoulda warned you that he wanted to show you off. No, he thinks, it’s not his fault. He didn’t owe you a warning. You should just accept it and obey.

You’re shaking when you tug open the button of Tommy’s jeans, fumbling with the zipper. Apparently, it takes long enough that he grunts and knocks your hand away, pulling his cock out. 

It feels like a trap. Joel has not explicitly ordered you to do this. But he doesn’t usually try to trick you. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Tommy snaps, and yanks you forward. You get with the program quickly, wrapping your lips around him and trying to do your best. 

He’s smaller than Joel, but it’s a decent cock. Not that it matters to you. Despite not having to gag on him, you can’t breathe anyway, too preoccupied. Why is Joel doing this? Is he going to punish you for it later? 

And the worst thing, the thing that keeps bouncing around your brain as you try to get Tommy off: What happened to the other girls? Did he get tired of them and kick them out?

Was he not going to keep you?

You don’t notice you’re crying, but Tommy clearly enjoys it. He moans and holds you down as he cums down your throat. You aren’t ready, though, and sputter a little, coughing and leaking his cum down your chest. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snaps. He gets up off the couch and yanks you away from his brother by the hair. “What the hell's the matter with you today?” 

“I’m sorry,” you cry. 

“Shut up,” he says, and drags you out to the place you visit in most of your nightmares, despite only having been there once in reality. 

The Pit. 

ii. consumption

When he comes to get you in the morning, you’re wrecked. Deflated, no more tears left to pour down your cheeks. For now, at least.  

The sun is against his back when he opens the gate, reaching down for you with one strong arm. Bathed in the golden light, he is every inch your savior, and when you’ve climbed out on shaky legs, you prostrate yourself at his feet the way he likes. 

He’s still mad, though, so he steps one filthy boot on your head and grinds your face into the mud. He pisses on it for good measure, the hot stream dripping down your hair and face onto the soil. 

He’s got a switch in one hand. With you effectively pinned in place, he wastes no time in swinging it down on your ass. 

You scream and sob as he beats you. When he finally stops, when he’s drawn every bit of his anger in welts against your skin, he lifts his boot from your head and squats down. 

“Why d’you have to make me do this?” He’s solemn, sorrowful. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, focusing on controlling the hysterical sobs wrenching from your chest. 

You don’t know what will follow, so you remain still, not daring to move without an order. 

“I should drop you off at a fuckin’ whorehouse,” he mutters. He pulls you up by your hair, and you scramble to your knees. “You can learn to suck who you’re told to suck.”

“Please, sir, please don’t, please—” It’s too much. You stumble, sobs wracking your body hard enough that you can’t move. You collapse in the grass with his hand still holding your head up. 

He lets go, letting you fall. 

You crawl to his boots and kiss them, mud be damned. It wasn’t like you weren’t covered in it anyway. “Please, sir, I’m so sorry, please don’t—” you say between sobs. 

“Please don’t what? You think you’re in any position to be askin’ for anything?”

“Don’t get rid of me, please; I promise I’ll be better; I can be good.”

“I’ll think about it, if you can fuckin’ earn it.”

“Please, please let me try to earn it.”

He squats down and helps pull you to your knees in front of him, cupping your filthy face in both hands. “I don’t wanna send you away. You know I love ya. But if you can’t be good, then what’s the point, baby?”

Your sobs are subsiding out of the pure elation that comes from his gentle touch. “I’ll do anything,” you whisper.

“I know ya will. You don’t really have a choice.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna get you fed and taken care of. But you’re about to have one of the worst days of your fuckin’ life.”

You choke on a sob and sway a little. The fear and the hunger are like a fog over your brain. 

“Hey. Listen t’me.” He holds your hands in one of his. “You’re gonna learn, and it’s gonna be real hard for ya. But at the end of it all— if you take it all like a good girl—you’ll be forgiven. Got it?”

You look up through tear-sodden lashes, lip quivering, and nod your head. 

There’s no part of you anymore that registers an issue. No warning bells, no red flags, no hair raising. 

You follow him to the bottom of the patio steps, where he nudges you to kneel back down, folding over so your face rests against the soil. You wait while he goes inside, unsure of how much time has passed until he comes back out with a plate of eggs, scrambled with cheese and little bits of sausage. 

That raises some alarms. Not to the way he treats you, but more of a signal for what to expect. It’s protein-heavy, which isn’t necessarily unusual, but it smells delicious. And there’s no way you’re getting to eat that after behaving so badly. 

You’re half right. He squats down next to you and scoops up a bite with the fork. You don’t take the bait; you know that’s not for you. 

He moans exaggeratedly when he chews, grinning all the while. And then he scrapes the rest off the plate into the dirt in front of your face. 

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” he says, and you close your eyes at the sound of his zipper being yanked down. 

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks.

You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.” 

You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself. 

“Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.”

You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

“You can swallow that. But don’t eat yet.” 

He walks away, puttering around on the patio. You try to work up the nerve for his command, stomach churning. Maybe it’ll still taste fine. Maybe cold semen and dirt won’t ruin it that much. Maybe. 

If you hadn’t earlier, you believed him now about it being the worst day of your life. He certainly wasn’t starting out small. Sure, you’d eaten off the floor before, but inside the house. The house you clean, so you know how sanitary it is. 

But thinking about doing this makes you want to cry. And when he tells you to get started, you do cry. Just a little. 

“You got about six minutes,” he says, checking his phone for the time instead of the eternally broken watch on his wrist, “and there better not be a single crumb left. Get your ass up here as soon as you’re done.”

You’re not sure how long it takes you, but it must be nearly the whole six minutes, because by the time you’re knelt at his feet on the patio, he says, “Cuttin’ it damn close, sweetheart.” 

He’s playing fucking Candy Crush, legs kicked out on the little wooden table in front of him. He’s got you knelt at his side, and after a few minutes, he digs into his breast pocket and hands you a smushed carton of cigarettes. 

You draw one carefully out of the pack and extend it to him, letting go once he’s pinched it between his lips and pulling out the lighter. Carefully, you ignite the tip for him and tuck it back away. You go to give the carton back, but he shakes his head.

He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke. “Hang onto that for me. And this,” and he hands you his coffee cup. 

It’s not the first time he’s used you as a table. He tried using you as a footrest but found it less satisfying. You try to sit and work through your nerves, try to ignore the terror that he might not keep you if you can’t endure the day. 

It’s a good thing that he drained you of any concept of dignity long ago, cut you open, and let it ooze away like pus from an infection.  

“Open,” he says absently, not bothering to look away from his game.

Your eyes and mouth snap open, and he taps the cigarette against your lip, letting the ash fall onto your tongue. You jerk back a little but correct it immediately.

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll give ya a pass this time. But keep your mouth open, tongue out, and don’t fucking swallow.” 

He’s clearly happy to spend the afternoon like this. He goes through a second cigarette and still doesn’t let you swallow or spit. Your knees ache from the planks of the deck. 

He gets up and goes inside for a few minutes, taking his empty coffee cup with him. You don’t dare drop your position, though. 

When he comes back out, he hands you a bottle of beer, condensation already dripping. He resettles to watch the game on his phone. 

Anything resembling hope is trickling out. He hates watching things on the little screen, peering at it through his glasses. But he never smokes inside the house, so he’s resigned himself to this for the sake of your punishment.

It makes you feel less than the ash on your tongue. 

By the time it’s over, your mouth has long gone dry, itching with the ash of four cigarettes, when he stands up and stretches. He leans down and holds your chin before spitting in your mouth.

“There ya go. Swallow.” 

And you do. When you cough a little as the ashes cling to your dry throat, he pries your mouth back open and spits again. 

It helps a little. 

iii. dismemberment

You’d only been in the Pit once before. The first time was arguably your worst offense, which was good, Joel thought, that you still hadn’t topped that misbehavior. 

But as glad as you are that it hasn’t happened a lot, it means you don’t really know what to expect. When he brings you into the ensuite, you know this routine enough that you kneel on the shower floor, barely flinching when he turns only the cold tap, and the faucet sputters to life. 

He never gets in until you’re shivering, so while he gathers fresh clothes and towels, you scrub the mud from your body. When he checks and finds you satisfactory, he turns the knobs until the water runs warm. 

Your shivers don’t subside for a few more minutes, though. Not until you’re practically done cleaning him with the spongey loofah. Hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes, though only a few slip loose.

When he turns around and takes it from you, you thank him for letting you wash him. 

He gives you a smile, hand cupping your cheek.

“Of course, baby. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you remember how to be my good girl.”

But first, before he can follow up on the threat, he washes the mud and piss from your hair with gentle hands, massaging your scalp. You hold still, head tipped back, and let the tears come harder.

He notices but doesn’t comment. It’s normal now, when he takes care of you after a hard punishment. Or, in this case, in the middle of one.

You go to speak, to pour out your regrets and devotion, but he shushes you.

“I want you quiet ‘till I say otherwise,” he says. “Nothin’ outta you unless it’s an emergency. Got it?”

You nod, and he helps you to your feet, drying you with a soft towel and taking care around the raised welts on your ass. There will be some nasty bruises tomorrow, but when isn’t there? Your tits have mottled spots of yellow fading, and the shape of Joel’s hand around your throat basically never leaves. 

He gives your raw, burning skin a sharp smack, sending you off to put on the dress he’s laid out for you.

He tells you nothing, just leads you to the truck. The drive is quiet, apart from the crooning voice on the radio. It’s a bit of a drive, and you park in a broken-up lot surrounded by rusty chainlink fence. He grabs your hand and takes you across the street to a dilapidated building. A cheap banner is tacked above one of the doors. 

Joel hands a bill to a man, who opens the door just enough for you to squeeze in. It doesn’t take long to figure out where you are.

“Been a while since I brought you someplace nice, baby. Hope you like it, ‘cause we’re gonna be here most of the night.”

That’s the understatement of your life. He hasn’t taken you out of the house in over a year. You’re not sure you remember how to exist away from home, clinging to his arm as he leads you through the club.

You can’t decide what will be worse, but you don’t have to wonder for long when he drags you around to an empty stall. He’s not there to use a hole. You’re there to be one. 

He clips your collar to the wall with just enough slack that you could pull back to breathe if the person on the other side doesn’t let you. 

He takes the ring gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of you. “You need this, or are ya gonna be good?”

“I’ll be good,” you say immediately, a phantom ache in the hinge of your jaw. 

“You sure? ‘Cause if you have to ask later or I have to make that decision myself, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. 

“Good.” He pats the side of your face, two sharp smacks in lieu of a caress. There will be no softness for you tonight. 

He waits to talk to you until your mouth is full. You look miserable, but you don’t hesitate. It’s not to the standard he’d usually require, but you’re both aware of the hours ahead, so he lets you pace yourself. 

He crouches down near you. “You like that? Some random dirty prick in your throat?” 

You, of course, can’t answer, but your eyes close against the hurt.

“It’s fucking disgusting. You think I want to let just anyone use you? I could fuck any hole I want. I could go out there and have every cunt and ass and mouth. You know why I won’t?”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t try to answer, don’t stop what you’re doing. 

“Because they ain’t you, sweetheart. You’re my perfect girl. Nicest I’ve ever had. And if I got something this nice, and I don’t share it with my brother? You don’t even suck him off right? How do you think that made him feel, baby?”

He keeps it up, past the point where he feels like carrying on, but he can tell it’s wearing you down faster than the relentless facefucking. You’re starting to work your jaw, joints popping in between visitors, but even that doesn’t compare to the way you’ve started to shake when he’s scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, baby. I hope you remember this fuckin’ lesson because I’m not sacrificing two nights of sleep again to repeat it.”

You whimper around the stranger’s cock, which encourages them to fuck into you harder. But Joel knows the tears in your eyes aren’t from that. 

“Yeah, you were bein’ selfish, huh? I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep with you out there, and now I’m up all night with you here.”

There it was, he thought, watching you break. A little too early; it was going to be tough to keep you going. But nothin’ did you in like the thought of having hurt him in the process. 

And it was true. He never slept with someone out in The Pit. Too fuckin dangerous. He kept watch on a camera. He needed you scared and sorry, not dead. 

He watches as you choke down the stranger’s seed, looking like you might retch. He shuts the little sliding door for a few minutes and gives you some water. After you’ve rehydrated and seem a little less green, he opens it back up.

“Alright, get ready for the next round.”

In the truck on the way home, he keeps you tucked close to his side. Between the dark, empty highway and his coat wrapped around you, you start to doze off. 

He nudges you a little. “None of that now. Ain’t finished with you yet.”

You whimper, not in protest but in exhaustion. Despite how hard you try to fight it, you’re fast asleep when he pulls into the driveway. 

He thinks about waking you up anyway, to follow through on his word. He carries you inside and up to the bedroom, still deliberating, but when he tries to set you down on the bed, you cling to him desperately, even in your sleep. He manages to wriggle the coat off you and lays down beside you. He’ll just let you both rest for a little while.

You wake up, mid-afternoon, shaking all over. Joel awakens moments later, eyes wide as he tugs on your arm to roll you over. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, and moves to get out of the bed. “Knew I shouldn’t have let you go to sleep.”

But you grab onto him, lip trembling. 

He knocks your hand away. “I‘ll be right back, jus’ hold on.”

You’re curled into yourself, sobbing, when he gets back three minutes later. 

He hands you a water bottle anyway. “Sit up; you need to eat. It’ll help.”

Somehow, you find the strength to struggle and wriggle your body into sitting. He brings you to lean against his chest while he leans against the headboard. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a kiss pressed to your head. 

You start crying hard all over again. 

“I know. M’sorry. I should have talked to ya last night, huh? S’that what you’re all worked up about?”

You nod. There you are, sitting in his bed, when you hadn’t fucking earned it. But he doesn’t shove you off or hurt you for it; he just feeds you a protein bar and lets you sip at the water between bites. 

After he’s given you the last of the bar, he has you slide down to your knees by the side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I disobeyed and embarrassed you.” 

“I didn’t ask you what you did wrong.”

“Oh,” you say softly, and have to think. “I didn’t understand, at first. That you wanted me to suck his cock.”

“And after you did?”

“I—” you don’t want to say it. You know he’s going to be mad. He doesn’t like when you question things like this.

“Is this because Tommy said you weren’t special? ‘Cause you know better.” 

“No, I just… why did you get rid of the others? What did they do?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and cups your face in one hand. “I don’t think that’s anything you gotta worry about. Not anymore.”

“But how will I know how to do better?”

“You already are. None of ‘em ever made it this far. They talked big talk but couldn’t back it up. Some of ‘em didn’t want to give up the things you have, some of ‘em couldn’t handle my expectations. I told you, you’re the nicest thing I’ve ever had. You’ve let me make you exactly the way I want you to be.”

“Even though I was so bad the other night?”

“Yep. Because you took every consequence, and I know you’ve learned your lesson. And you’ll probably fuck up again someday. But if you keep wantin’ to be better, I’ll keep teachin’ ya.” 

You can’t help but cry again. You’re so tired and so tired of crying. 

“What, were you worried I was gonna replace you with some new young thing someday?”

You nod, and he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m gettin’ old, sweetheart. I don’t want to keep breakin’ in toys that ain’t worth my time. I just finished puttin’ you back together exactly the way I like ya. You stay my good girl, and you’ll be mine ‘till I die.” 

It doesn’t stop your tears.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

It startles you. “What?”

“What do you need? What’s gonna make you feel better, baby?” 

You’re not sure when the last time you’ve had to think about something like that is. He’s been taking care of you for so long now. 

“Whatever you want,” you say. 

“No, baby, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“That’s my answer, though,” you realize. “I need to feel whatever you want me to.”

“God damn,” he whispers. “I fucked you up, huh?”

Your lip trembles.

“No, baby, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just kinda incredible. Jesus. How could you think I’d ever get rid of you? There’s not a fuckin’ bit of you that isn’t mine.” 

Your cheeks burn, so you bury your face into his palm and press a kiss to the center. 

“You want to know what I want, is that right?”

You nod. 

“I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth. And then I want to order us some fuckin’ takeout and eat it in the bath.”

It makes you smile just a little. 

“Yeah? That sound good, baby?” His thumb rubs against your cheek. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, open up for me.”

You wrangle yourself into position. The initial weight and taste of him sends warmth through your bones for the first moment since he dragged you outside. 

It’s sloppy, the way he fucks your throat, in a way it usually isn’t. It’s always messy, but his thrusts are erratic. You can’t keep up with his pace because there simply isn’t one. It’s not long before he’s holding you down and pumping his cum down your throat.

It trickles down and cleanses everything in its path. You’re lighter, like you can breathe again. You thank him sweetly, pressing a kiss to his twitching cock. 

He’s panting, but strokes your cheek with one hand. “That’s my good girl. Feel better now that I washed all those other guys outta your mouth?” 

Technically, he had done that last night, had shoved three soap-covered fingers in your mouth in the gross club bathroom. Wretchedly, it had the side effect of making you nauseous, and he had insisted on doing it over after you threw up.

But this felt more pure to him, more consecrational in a way. The soap might have cleared the actual evidence away, but his come was your wine and wafer. 

“Yes, sir,” you say into the flesh of his thigh where your head rests. You kiss there for good measure, eliciting a pleased hum from him that sends you preening a little. 

He lays back on the bed, leaving a hand on the top of your head to stroke your hair while the other gropes around for his phone. “What do you want, baby? Lo mein?” 

“Oh, yes, please.” 

He feeds you noodles in the bath and then eats you out until you fall asleep. 

iv. reduced to bone

You’re on your knees in the basement, bent forward over a metal pipe placed at just the right height to nestle into your hips and keep them tilted up in the air. Stocks hold your head and wrists in place, tits hanging just below. The wood is slowly dampening as you drool around the ring gag. 

“Got a surprise for you, baby,” he had said when he led you down. “You know how you keep beggin’ me to hurt you worse, and I have to keep tellin’ you I’m not tryin' to wear you out?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Well, I think you’re going to like this.”

That had been… well, you’re not entirely sure. A while ago, maybe, but your brain wasn’t the best judge of time right now. After he had secured you here, he had dragged out the little machine. It’s sitting under your torso somewhere, thin clear tubing stretching out like a web he’d caught you in. 

There’s no noise but the hum of it, which you’ve gone pleasantly numb to. The pressure is unending, each nipple and your clit being tugged into the tiny cups relentlessly. 

It tingles, just on the side of too gentle to be fulfilling on its own. That’s okay. You’re pretty sure you’ll be in delicious, mind-shattering agony soon. 

This you know because, well, it’s Joel, but also because of the tools he’s laid out on the little wheeled cart and left for you to stare at. 

A thin cane. Clover clamps with a length of chain. A tawse with a tapered, pointy tip. A wand. 

It makes you dizzy to look at. 

Also, you know because it’s a Friday night. Joel enjoys you however he likes any day of the week, but he’s careful about saving the deepest of his cruelties for Fridays. Because mind-shattering wasn’t really an exaggeration. When he gets like this, you sometimes don’t surface enough to take care of yourself for a day or two.

On those occasions, he never leaves you alone. Doesn’t want to, both because he loves when you need him that deeply and because you’re so soft and pliant. Truthfully, he thinks he could do anything to you then and you’d thank him for it. 

Which is why he’s got Tommy coming over tomorrow. It’s not that he thinks you need to be out of it to avoid a repeat of last time. He knows you learned your lesson and you’ll be good. 

But he’s got something special in mind that he needs help with. It’ll just be easier for everyone if you’re at your most agreeable. 

And yeah, you owe Tommy a blowjob. One of the ones that make Joel feel like he mighta died and somehow gotten through the pearly gates by the grace of your devotion. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure you’re going to love his plan, and he wants you unprepared, so you’ll cry real pretty and be truly desperate to show him your appreciation. It’s been on his mind since that night a few months back when you didn’t seem to believe him about never letting you go. 

He’s never fucking letting you go. There’s nothing in this world that could take you from him. He’s made sure of it. 

Sometimes, he has to remind himself that you don’t know you’re married. 

He thought about telling you that night, so you’d understand the depth of the commitment he’s made. But he doesn’t want you to take it the wrong way. Doesn’t want you thinking you need to act like a wife . 

He’d had a whole bucket of bullshit cooked up to excuse it, but when he told you to sign the paper, you hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t questioned that you couldn’t see what it was, only the line where he pointed. You’d signed the fucking paper and never asked a goddamn thing. 

He was glad. He didn’t like lying to you. This was just one of those hoops to jump through in a world that didn’t understand what you shared. 

When he comes back down, your eyes are already glazed over. Your body shines with a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving as you squirm. It’s gone beyond gentle. The waves of suction have you whimpering soft and high, barely louder than a breath, but nearly constant. 

He chuckles and strolls over, crouching down to wipe the sweat off your brow with the bandana from his pocket before it gets in your eyes. You give him a truly pathetic look, eyes wide as you drool helplessly. 

“Not so nice now, huh?” 

You whine. 

He strokes your cheek with an exaggerated pout before sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue. It tries to curl around them, eliciting another cruel laugh. 

“Jesus, girl. S’there anything that would stop ya from gagging for my cock?”

You shake your head. Even if you weren’t spread by the ring gag and choking on his fingers, you’re beyond speech. Too far deep. 

Joel actually doesn’t mind when you talk. He’s got no rules restricting your speech (well, most of the time). As long as you’re respectful, he likes the company. 

But he really likes when you go quiet like this. When he’s pushed you so far that you can’t . 

“Look at you, all worked up. We haven’t even gotten started, baby. You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod, whining, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes them on your cheek. 

“What was that, baby? Couldn’t quite understand ya.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you whine again. 

“I’m just teasin’,” he says and kisses your forehead. “I got ya. I know you’re gonna be my good girl and take everything I fuckin’ want.”

He reaches down and tugs the tubing until the cups pop free of your breasts. You cry out, but it turns into a desperate moan when he tugs the one off your clit. 

Yeah, he coulda turned the pump off first so they just fell off, but where’s the fun in that? 

He’s grinning wickedly as he reaches back up to your breast. He barely, just barely, brushes over the side of your nipple, and the sound you make goes right to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so swollen.” He has to remind himself he’s playing the long game; he just wants to pinch and pull so badly. He’s pretty sure you’ll scream, even though normally it wouldn’t be much at all. 

But he wants to fuckin’ torture you tonight, so he’s going to drag it out. He wants you incoherent and beaten down when he’s done, so far gone you’ll stay there for days. 

So he’s gotta start soft. He drags his fingertip around your areola, not quite brushing the nipple but tracing the ring left behind by the cup. You twitch, shoulders jerking back, and he grips your breast. 

“None of that, now,” he croons, letting go and switching sides to torment your other breast. 

It’s holy, in that way you never quite understood. Not like the Jesus kind, though you never were much for church either, but in the way that people chase salvation through empty bottles and sharp needles. 

With the wand and the tawse, he breaks you down again and again and again. But that’s the thing about Joel. He reduces you to pain or pleasure or the delicious apex of both that brews between your thighs, and then he cleans you back up, puts the pieces back where he likes them.

He makes you come until you cry, and then, when you’re sobbing and exhausted, that’s when the night really begins. You’re twitching and jerking at the barest contact, writhing with every snap of the cane. 

It’s so, so good. Until it isn’t. But he’s running that damn mouth of his, that sweet, filthy mouth, and you can’t not take it. Your tears are gone, all run out; he likes to wring you dry. And he keeps rubbing his hand over your hypersensitive flesh, already raw and ruined, and murmuring soft words and sweet taunts. 

“Look at you,” he croons. “My pretty little toy. You’re so beautiful, suffering for me like this, baby.”

And so you do. You suffer for him. There’s nothing left in your little subby brain right now but Joel Joel Joel. 

You’re dry. He almost can’t believe it. The only time you’ve not been a sloppy, soaking mess was when he broke your finger. 

He whistles low and slow. “Shit, baby. Guess you have some limits after all, huh.” 

It’s impressive that you can even lift your head enough to shake it weakly. An overwhelming fondness washes over him. 

“ Aw. Takin’ it for me anyway, were ya?” He comes around and squats near your head, unhooking the gag and easing it out of your mouth. He rubs gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw as you whimper.

“Did so good for me, baby. Lemme get you outta there, and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, but you don’t have a voice. The words don’t come together in your mind, just devastation.

His grip turns tight, forcing you to look at him. “No? You tellin’ me no?”

You shake your head again, lip quivering. 

“You don’t want my cock?”

You shake your head harder and try to reach for him, hands flexing where they’re bound in the stocks. Trying to make him see just how bad you want his cock. 

Luckily, he understands that much. “You wanna stay there? Baby, my knees ain’t gonna like fuckin’ you here.” But he can tell from the way your face crumples that he still isn’t quite getting it. 

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you want me to keep goin’?” 

You nod and he slaps you, a sharp strike that catches you by surprise.

“Stupid girl,” he says, scowling, and gripping your chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I decide when we’re done. The whole point of this was not to ruin ya. This ain’t a punishment. Well, it wasn’t. Might be, next time.” 

He stands up, shaking his head. “Dumb fuckin’ cunt.”

It hurts worse than the cane did. 

When he sees the heartbreak on your face, he sighs. “Ah, shit. Look, I know you’re just tryin’ to please me. But you’re makin’ me feel bad for tryin’ to be careful with ya. If I take it too far today, you won’t be able to take as much anymore. I ain’t breakin’ you.” 

You’re sobbing too hard to respond, but you don’t try to argue or struggle when he releases you. You crawl to lay kisses to the toes of his boots and nuzzle your cheek against them.

He sees it for the apology it is. 

v. parched to dust

This time, when Tommy Miller takes out his cock in front of you, you’re ready. And there’s no way in hell you’re disappointing Joel again, so you wrap your lips around him, not quite eagerly but with enough determination that no one could fault you.

When you drag the second consecutive orgasm from him, he tugs you away with a fist in your hair, panting and gasping. Joel swats his hand away and beckons you back to his lap. 

“ Jesus,” Tommy finally says, tucking himself back into his jeans. 

“Told ya it was just a bad day,” Joel snipes. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shoulda figured. It’s just… you’re a little soft for her, yeah?”

“Course I am. But I’m not soft on her.”

You know he loves you. You do. But hearing him admit that he’s soft for you makes your chest ache. 

“Got another surprise for ya, baby,” Joel says, rubbing his hand over your back. 

You’re overwhelmed. It’s not that he doesn’t give you things or do things for you; it’s that it’s never such a big deal. It just is . He takes care of you. That’s how this works. Not gifts and surprises. 

You bite your lip so you don’t question it, but he sees through you.

“Now I know you don’t remember. D’you even know what day it is?” 

“Saturday,” you say. “You’re home.” 

He shakes his head, but it’s betrayed by the smirk. “You’re right, baby. But what’s the date?”

You actually have to think for a minute. You hadn’t crossed off the calendar this morning like you usually did, and yesterday’s activities have you a little rattled. “It’s um, it’s August 19th?”

“That’s our anniversary, baby.”

Your brows scrunch as you try to think back. That’s not right. Your first date was in February. You moved in sometime early in June. You’re not sure what his metric is, but August doesn’t make sense. “Um. Are you… are you sure?” 

He doesn’t get mad like you thought he might. He just laughs. “Course, I’m sure, baby. It was the night we came home from your folks’. When you agreed to be mine.”

Your face heats. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.” 

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days. 

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it. 

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says. 

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs. 

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly. 

He shakes his head. “Not today. C’mon.”

Now that he moves, you follow. 

Tommy’s already in the basement, which almost gives you pause, if only because his movement startles you. 

Joel has you hop up on the padded table instead of the metal one, typically a sign that either you’re going to be here for a well-extended time or that he’s going to fuck you on it. 

Tommy’s setting things you don’t recognize out on the little cart, but you don’t try very hard to look. Looking makes your breathing get a little ragged, so you look at Joel instead. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, bending slightly to give you a kiss before he begins to slowly circle the table, fastening straps over your body. 

He’s left the dress on, which is weird, too, but you’re not complaining. It’s always a little chilly down here and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re glad he’s not made you bare yourself completely in front of Tommy. 

It’s a lot of straps. You watch curiously, if not a little dazed, as he secures your ankles, thighs, stomach, chest both above and below your breasts, arms in three places, neck, and head. 

The one around your neck clips to your collar, not adding another band or choking you. But you’re unable to lift your head and neck at all. 

When he’s done with the strap across your forehead, he smooths away the worry lines that crease beneath it. 

“Just need ya to hold real still. You’re probably going to like this, but don’t fuckin’ come.”

“Yes, sir.” Your eyes are wide and worshipful as you wait for further commands. 

“Be real good for Tommy, okay?”

Your heart pounds in your throat, but you promise immediately. 

He hops up to sit on the spanking bench nearby. 

“Where first?” Tommy says. 

“Hip,” Joel says, settling in to watch. 

Tommy goes about his business and pulls the bottom halves of the table apart, wrenching your legs open slowly. He spreads them wide and slides a stool over, situating himself right up by your cunt, and flips the hem of your dress up over your belly button. 

You whimper and try to look at Joel for any indication of how you’re supposed to behave, but the restraints don’t allow enough wiggle room. 

Something cold smears across the front of your left hip, and, much to Joel’s surprise, you break. You’re still raw in more than one way from the previous day. 

“Please, sir,” you blurt, lip trembling and eyes squeezed tight. 

He hops down, brow furrowed, and comes closer, raising a hand to Tommy to pause him. 

He cups your face. “Please, what, baby?” His other hand rubs up and down your side. 

You force your eyes open to look at him, blurred through waiting tears. 

“Please, can I have a gag?” you say. Your eyes are scrunched, and fists clenched. 

He strokes his hand over your cheek. “‘Course you can. Good girl.”

The praise keeps you calm while he steps away. When he comes back, you open your mouth wide, and he settles it between your lips. 

You nearly cry in relief when you feel the little bulb press inside, not much different than the head of his cock. A few tears spill over when he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

“Atta girl, he says, pinching your chin before returning to his perch. 

The warmth of his touch lingers, and you let the pressure of the gag distract you from where Tommy starts to move again. You suck on it steadily, eyes fluttering shut when you feel the unmistakable scrape of a blade across your hip. 

Shaving. He’s shaving you. You can’t fathom why, with only peach fuzz reaching there. And you think maybe it’d be a cold day in hell before Joel let anyone shave your pubic hair. He liked it kept trimmed but not too neat. 

“I’m from the seventies, baby. Women’re supposed to have a nice healthy bush,” he had told you fairly early on when you were just dating. He hadn’t told you to stop shaving and waxing, but of course, you had. 

Warm water washes over the area with a washcloth not far behind. Tommy’s firm hand does a final sweep with something cold. 

“Alright, honey,” Tommy says, his voice almost seeming fond , “just hold still and be a good girl, okay?” 

As if you’d do anything else. 

You startle a little at the loud buzz that kicks up, and Tommy rubs gloves fingers over the opposite hip for just a moment. 

And then he gets to work. It hurts . But the pain clues you into what’s going on, and you come to the only logical conclusion: Joel’s having you tattooed. 

You start to cry, the feeling of being loved and owned overwhelming. You don’t hear Joel’s chuckle, buried as it gets under the gun in Tommy’s hands. 

You thought it was overly cautious of him earlier, to worry about you having an orgasm during anything involving Tommy. But you get it now. The pain itself is bearable, almost delicious, but the rush of euphoria in your veins from the mere concept is intoxicating. 

It goes on and on. Maybe it’s only half an hour. Maybe it’s four. The pain cycles, fading to a soothing heat before building back up to a scald. 

You don’t realize it’s over right away. The buzz of the gun plays on in your brain even when the room falls quiet. And Tommy’s doing something to it, probably wiping it down, but your skin still rages. 

Joel hops down and comes over to the side of your left leg. “Shit, that’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says to his brother. 

“Looks damn good. Hey, she’s got a real pretty pussy, huh?” He says, elbowing Joel. “S’funny, watchin’ her leak all over.”

Joel peers over, running a finger over your cunt, and laughs. “Knew you’d like that,” he says.

You whimper. 

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo. “Want to see, baby?” He asks though he’s already turning the screen to you. 

The skin is red and irritated, but the ink takes your breath away. In shiny black, right there on your hip, sits a blocky “JM” surrounded by a circle. It looks like a fucking brand. 

Your eyes fly to his, whining desperately and praying he understands. A sly grin spreads across his face, and the tip of his middle finger traces oh so gently up your slit. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says, not bothering to touch you further. He knows you won’t need it. 

Vision blacking out, you writhe uselessly against the restraints as the pleasure batters through you. You’re only vaguely aware that the loud keening sound is coming from you, but it’ll register later when you feel the raw ache in your throat. 

Tommy whistles. “Sorry I doubted you, princess.”

You whine through the aftershocks, tears welling up again at the thought of the tattoo. You hope Tommy would leave so Joel will fuck you. 

Then you remember him asking, “Where first?” just as Tommy drags his stool around to the right side of your torso. 

Joel comes with him, rolling up his sleeves and tinkering with something on the cart. They both touch your arm a lot, fingers roving and adjusting you. You start to tune it out until Tommy lathers a spot on the inside of your wrist. 

Once it’s been shaved and cleaned, someone presses something against the spot for a moment. 

“Well?” Joel says. 

“Lines look clear to me,” Tommy says. He’s leaning close to your arm. 

Joel doesn’t walk away this time. As the gun kicks back to life, he stays with his hand resting on your upper arm, looming over Tommy’s shoulder. 

It’s easier this time, now that you know what to expect. It hurts, but you’ve had worse and probably will again. You’re feeling a bit too dizzy, though, when it finally stops. 

“This one’s for you to see,” Joel says, starting to unlatch the straps. He frees your arm first and then your head and neck, plus the gag. The ache makes itself known as soon as you shift a little. 

You peer immediately at your wrist, and a strange clenching tears through your chest. A few inches below your palm lays the dark outline of Joel’s thumbprint. 

“Oh,” you whisper, a strange tingling spreading through your limbs. “Oh.” 

“Knew you’d like it,” he says, lips curling into a smug smirk. 

Once you’re untethered, he peels your dress off so the fabric won’t brush against your hip. 

“There’s a protein bar and a bottle of water on the coffee table,” Joel says. “Go eat and wait by my chair.”

You’re swaying a little but he helps you down and makes sure you can stay on your feet before he removes his hands from your waist. 

You make your way upstairs in a daze. Truthfully, you don’t really remember it. When they come upstairs, you’re knelt in your place, wrapper and empty bottle on the table. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, lowering himself with a little groan into his recliner. He shifts around and pulls his cock out. “C’mere.”

You hop up immediately, and he takes you by the waist to help you settle where he’s fully hard already.

“Don’t move,” he says, to your great disappointment. “None of that,” he scolds at your pout. “It’s my turn. Just relax.”

Tommy sets the gun and equipment up to the side of the chair. You settle against Joel’s chest, snuggling in and resting your head on his shoulder so you can watch. 

Joel’s other hand, the one not waiting in place, comes up to cup the back of your head. He bends his head down to kiss where he can reach. “You’re being so good. Just a little bit more, and then you can take this cock.”

“Do not come on her tattoo, Joel,” Tommy says. 

Joel laughs, but Tommy smacks his arm. “I’m serious. It’ll fuck it up and probably infect it. Don’t fuckin’ do it.”

“I’ll wait ‘till it’s healed, don’t worry.”

You moan and clench around him at the idea, which only encourages his pleased chuckling. 

Tommy takes your hand, peeling it from where it rested against Joel’s chest, idly brushing through the hair there. You let him, letting it go limp and unresistant.

He presses your thumb against an ink pad and pushes it down on a piece of paper, rolling it carefully. He repeats the process a few times before he’s satisfied. Wiping it clean, he coats it one more time before pressing it against Joel’s wrist.  

You stare, rapt, as he traces the lines of your fingerprint onto Joel’s thick arm, framed by dark hair. It sits in parallel to the watch on his other wrist. 

“Where d’you want these?” Tommy says after he’s wrapped up and started to pack away the equipment. He’s holding the papers where they tested your print.

“The safes. One in each office,” Joel says. 

It’s weird, certainly, but so is Joel, so you don’t give it much thought. 

He’s cradling your face in his palm, looking at you with something so tender and ferocious that you can’t possibly look away. He thrusts up into you, his other hand tight on the hip opposite the tattoo.

It hurts, but, well, you don’t mind. 

The way he fucks you open now is slow, cruel after making you sit still for so long, but he’s savoring it. Savoring the way you can’t help but stare at him in worshipful bliss. It’s like a drug, the way his attention makes you hazy. He’s got you hooked, addicted, right where he wants you. His. 

Not a damn part of you that isn’t. 

The smirk curls across his face, and his hand curls around your neck, abandoning the gentle caress for something you both understand as love. You come on his cock when he tells you, every time he tells you, as he leaves you gasping and clutching his forearm, not prying him away but holding on as the room spins. 

When he fills you, he kisses you deeply, hand back around your throat as his mouth takes the rest of your air. You collapse against his chest when he lets go, and he holds you there with a smug, satiated smile and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You doze in and out in his lap as he and Tommy share a bottle of bourbon. 

“Damn, I shoulda brought Daisy over. You haven’t had someone for her to play with in a while,” you hear Tommy say through the fog of your brain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Joel says. His hand is scratching at your scalp and it feels so good you almost forget Tommy is talking.

“... my wife and your little pet—” he’s saying.

You don’t mean to open your eyes, but you catch his as soon as you do. He laughs. “Yeah, I got a wife. I’m not as mean as my brother, here.” 

You find that hard to believe, but also, you don’t really think of Joel as mean. He’s strict, sure, and he has high expectations. But he takes such good care of you, and you want for nothing. 

The phrase stirs something odd in your head. Do you want for nothing? Well, it’s at least partially true. You don’t want anything, not a thing you have or don’t have. You’re happy with whatever Joel gives. 

It’s probably the same thing. Besides, you wanted that career; you wanted to put on a face, a mask, and pretend to be someone who gave a shit about the company’s reputation. And you were wrong, so wrong. And Joel’s always been right. So what do you know about what you want?

Joel’s rumbling voice startles you a little where you’re tucked against his chest. “She was one ‘a mine, y’know,” he says to you. 

Tommy’s wearing a sly grin. “Yeah, until you scared the shit out of her,” he says, laughing. “Poor little thing didn’t know what to do with herself.” 

“She wasn’t like you,” Joel says. He waits as if he expects a reaction, but you don’t stir from your safe place in his arms. 

“Nah, not everyone’s as fucked up as y’all,” Tommy says. “I ain’t a sadist,” he says to you, a glint in his eye. “Don’t get me wrong, I do love puttin’ her in her place, but mostly, I just like havin’ my pretty little wife at home.” 

Joel’s watching you; you can feel the heft of his gaze. But you’re so blissed out, so calm right here in his lap, dripping his seed slowly around where his cock still fills you. 

“Would that bother you? Playin’ with a girl who used to be Joel’s?” Tommy goads.

You think about it for a moment. “She ever get his mark?”

Tommy grins, teeth like a shark. “Nope.”

You hum, unbothered, and nuzzle your cheek against Joel.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Knew you’d learn this time.” 

You gaze at his thumbprint on your arm. The cells around it will grow and die, but not his claim on you. 

It’s almost comforting, you think, that by the time that fades, there’ll be nothing left of you anyway. 

bonus: the art of breaking playlist

thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who asked for a part two and expressed love for the first. I will admit I am INCREDIBLY nervous to publish this both because it's kind of fucked up but also because so many of you loved the first part and I'm scared this won't live up to your expectations.

please, if you enjoyed this, let me know! soothe my anxiety lol. and if you don't want to publically do so, anon is always on.

i love you!

[beomiracles]

HI HI! HAPPY 500!!! For this one I'm thinking about a Masochist!Soobin X Vampire!reader like reader is a bully to soobin bc she likes to see his cute reactions, who secretly likes him until reader got an idea that if she bites him what will be his reaction also reader is like a sadist for this one, when the blood moon appears thats when things get escalated aka spicy moment iykyk (congratulations for reaching 500! <33)

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... I LOVE vampires. if anyone missed that vital piece of information ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ and this idea was like gold? I fear the plot might be lacking a little? idk read and decide for yourself I say !

wc -> 1.6k

pairings soobin x vampire afab!reader (I can't remember if gender is stated but I wrote with a fem reader in mind) warnings elements bullying, blood drinking, masochist soobin (gets off on almost getting killed oopsies), handjob...I can't think of anything else its 2am, pls lmk if I missed any!

You liked Soobin. He smelled sweet, not like candy, no, you didn’t like candy. Soobin smelled like sweet nectar, carefully harvested from a blooming flower on a sunny spring day. His skin looked like honey and felt like gold beneath the tips of your fingers. — Soobin’s face flushed in all shades of pink and red whenever he got flustered. You liked making him like that, pushing his buttons just the right amount to get the perfect rise out of him. 

Soobin lets you push his buttons. He bows his head in shame as you empty the contents of his bag out on the floor in front of him. He bites his lip as you step on his books, crushing them under the sole of your shoe. He whines when you pull his ear, pushing him up against the nearest wall as you spit insults in his face. He never tells anyone. 

Soobin was perfect, too perfect for you to ever disregard as a quick meal. But his sweet smell remains engraved in your sharp mind, as if to torture you, and it did. 

It really was his own fault for being outside that one fateful night, the night of the blood moon. Tsk, humans never seemed to know better. You had never intended to take things that far, but under the red sky your eyes saw nothing but him, smelled nothing but him, felt nothing but him. 

The persistent beating of his heart as he walks along the sidewalk. His head hung low, the hood of his shirt shielding his pretty face from view. — It happens before you have the time to even think. He’s tall, but you’re strong; his lanky and unguarded frame was easy to yank into the nearest alleway. He doesn’t scream, and even if he did no one would’ve heard for your hand slams across his plump lips. 

His once startled and almost terrified expression wears off the second he sees your face. You frown but don’t give it much thought, his sweet nectar-like scent spreading like wildfire through your every fiber and you inhale, letting your eyes flutter closed. — “Stupid boy”, you mutter as you yank the hood of his hoodie down. “Don’t you know not to go out wandering by yourself late at night?” 

Your hand moves to his neck, giving it a firm squeeze as you watch his lips part in a soft gasp, the sound like music to your ears. “K-Knew you would come for me”, he croaks out, his cheeks flushing as his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip. His statement catches you off guard and you peer up at him, red irises piercing through his honey tinted ones. It is then you realize that his heart is not beating out of fear, rather…excitement. 

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. 

Still, he was rather cute. You could feel him swallow, adam's apple bobbing against the palm of your hand, the pumping of his rich blood flowing through his healthy veins that strained beneath your fingers. You exhale, not because your unbeating heart needed to, but rather to restrain yourself from just snapping his neck in half. 

“Why, have you been waiting, hm?” You drawl, sharp nails dragging across his jugular and he shudders as he nods. “Do you desire death?” You weren’t planning on killing him. He didn’t have to know that.  — He shakes his head as best as he can, his breath is reduced to short gasps as he fights for air, fights for life. “You.” His voice is raspy and you still as your eyes bore into him. 

“You. Is what I desire”, he gasps as your hands tighten around his neck. “Stupid boy”, you grunt. Did he not realize how hard he was making things, how dangerous he made them? Despite it all, you lean in, your nose grazing along his honey fresh skin, his blood surges beneath the surface and your eyes gleam in the eerie moonlight. 

Soobin lets out a strangled noise when your fangs sink into his skin, showing no mercy as they dig deep. Your eyes flutter closed and you groan at the taste of him, sweet nectar dancing on your tongue as you greedily let the searing hot liquid slip down your throat. — Just as you’ve gotten your first taste of him you realize that you can never let yourself do this again, that was if he even survived tonight. You were no stranger to human blood, especially not fresh from the core. But this, his blood, you felt your self control slipping between your fingers as his warm blood bloomed inside your cold body. 

His large hands are on your waist, you expect him to push you away, he doesn’t. He pulls you closer, whimpering as your thigh presses against his hard cock. It makes your eyes snap open and you rip yourself from his throat as you slam him even harder against the brick wall behind him, he groans as his mouth falls open. 

Your lips, coated in a thick layer of crimson turn into a scowl as you grip his chin harshly. “Sick human”, you sneer as you watch his already blushing cheeks practically explode in an ocean of red. “Do you get off on this shit?” You jeer as you watch him with disdain. The way his cock twitches against your thigh makes your nose turn up in disgust, “fuck, and I thought I was the bigger freak.” 

The way he writhers under you was almost endearing. A small noise deep in his throat pulls your eyes to his, only to find them full of desire. It wasn’t like you didn’t like Soobin, hell you liked him a lot, it had been centuries since you last felt something other than thirst for a lowly human like himself. It was why you hadn’t strayed far from him, not wanting his sweet nectar to attract others of your kind, creatures far more dangerous than yourself, creatures who most definitely wouldn’t hesitate to drain him dry. 

You heave a sigh, the grip on his chin unwavering as your free hand slides along his chest and down his pants. Soobin lets out a hoarse moan as your pale fingers wrap around his leaking cock, you grimace at how wet it was. Can’t believe I’m doing this. You mutter as you glance over at him. 

His face had quickly contorted into one of pure pleasure as his brows drew together, his ever pouty lips parted, his jaw slack and his gaze clouded. The sight was oddly enticing and you felt yourself tingle with arousal. — Hungry eyes travel down his neck, the punctures to his skin glinting in the moonlight as blood spills down his collarbone. Deeming your self control to be out of the picture already, you dive back in as your fangs re-pierce his throat. 

The taste was just as sweet as before, perhaps even sweeter as Soobin’s whines and moans echoed out in the alleway. Your thumb pressing down against his slit makes him squeal and you can practically feel his blood surging, his pleasure transpiring directly into your mouth as you swallow mouthfuls of his very life essence. 

His hips buck up against your hand, chasing your touch as his fingers dig into the skin of your waist. He was surprisingly strong for a human, the acknowledgment spurred you on further than you’d like to admit and you sighed against his neck. 

You could feel his tall frame grow weaker and weaker in your grasp, whether it was because of the lack of blood he suffered or his nearing orgasm, you didn’t know. “Please”, he gasps as his head falls back against the bricked wall. Humans and their persistent begging, half the time they didn’t even know what they wanted, yet they were rarely pleased. 

It takes all your willpower to finally withdraw from his throat and he hisses as you do. “Please, please, please”, he whimpers when your tongue drags across the wounds on his neck, savoring the last droplets of  sweet nectar. — Your wrists flicks over the head of his cock, pulling a cry from him as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. “What?” You groan as you tug on his weeping dick, making him shudder as he shakes his head. 

“Need more..” he pleads as his hopeful eyes meet yours. You snort as you pull his face by his chin, forcing him down eye level with you. “Take what you’re offered”, you sneer before releasing his face with a push. He whines as his back hits the wall behind him, “wanna kiss you.” — You were seriously starting to consider the option of snapping his neck after all. 

“Stupid human–” You begin but the rest of your sentence is swallowed by his lips on your own as Soobin’s large hand guides the back of your head. His blood on your lips mingles with his saliva as he pushes his eager tongue inside your mouth. With a small roll of your eyes you let them flutter closed as your lips move against his. 

The second he feels your sharp fang grace his tongue he comes undone as he whimpers into your mouth. His cock twitches in your tight grasp as he coats your pale hand in hot cum. “F-fuck”, he whines as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. The rapid beating of his heart consumed your senses and you felt yourself go lightheaded. 

He pulls back, just enough to where his lips still hover above yours, smeared in his own blood and he pants. He swallows, hard, “I wanna taste you too”, he states and your mouth parts as you huff out a short breath of disbelief. 

Jesus fucking christ.  

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[whateverloomis]

🩸Red🩸 >> Poly!Ghost face x Killer!Reader || Scream 1996

Part 1 >> Part 2

About: While the Casey Becker and Steve Orth killings were taking place, a third kill happened as well... Billy Loomis and Stu Macher can't risk having someone else around that could ruin their goal of killing Sidney Prescott. What happens when all 3 killers get a little bit too close?

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, knife play, degradation, oral (giving and receiving,) p in v, unprotected sex, making out, cheating, alcohol consumption, reader is AFAB, reader is a killer, reader is short, reader is alt and has tattoos + piecings. Revised June'24

Reader: They/them pronouns that are highlighted in bold so it's easy to identify | AFAB

Word count: 2k

A/N: Last chapter! It was so fun to write this concept. My requests are open, any suggestions are welcome <33 Thank you for reading babes 💋

-

"Now, we team up or someone gets killed, and it sure as hell isn't going to be us." - "And you bet your ass it's not going to be me either." You spoke quickly and he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Relax baby, here's the deal... You join us in our next kill. We team up. We'll get away with whatever we want. Do whatever we want..." He whispered the last few words and placed his left hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. You couldn't deny that it sounded perfect. If it went wrong you could easily frame the two idiots. If it went well you could get the satisfaction of getting anyone out of your way, relish in the sweet screams and the thrill of getting revenge on whoever the fuck messed with you. Hurt you.

You bit your lip and scanned his face with your eyes. Curiosity getting the best of you; "Who's your next victim?"

"Sidney Prescott."

•

Your eyes widened at Billy's response. Why Sidney? His girlfriend? That's why it was so easy for him to cheat, he wanted the girl fucking dead and nothing else mattered.

You shook your head in confusion and looked up at him; "Wh... Why Sidney?"

Billy laughed and bit his bottom lip; "Oh, like you care." Sarcasm laced his words. "Maureen Prescott? That was us." He pointed at Stu and then himself. You weren't exactly surprised but it did catch you off guard. You weren't dealing with just any killers, you were dealing with the killers of Woodsboro. You stood there looking into Billy's eyes, lost in thought. The only thing that snapped you back in time was his hand playing with the hem of your short black dress.

"Revenge?" You asked. Billy looked away momentarily before scanning your face and biting his bottom lip. "Revenge." He confirmed; "For being the reason my father cheated on my mother. The reason why she abandoned me." Billy continued and you gasped at his admission. He was hurt. He needed to get rid of it. It consumed him and it grew stronger every day he had to look at Sidney's face. You understood. Your expression of acknowledgement was clearly visible on your face.

"That's why it's so easy for me to let go." Billy said and ran his hands up your hip, under your dress. The feel of his warm skin sent shivers all over your body. You exhaled sharply, not realizing you were holding your breath. "Why I get my way with someone like you. A killer like me. A sadist. Masochist." He continued running his hands up your body, grabbing your waist. Your dress was hiked up, black thong exposed and you gave cero fucks about it. "In need of attention, like me." Billy whispered and pulled you against his body. You bit your bottom lip while looking at him. At his lips. That deep stare. Gosh you wanted to risk it all. Fuck him, and his friend too. Join them and create a blood bath with whoever, whenever.

You couldn't handle the tension and finally crashed your lips against Billy's. He dug his fingers in your flesh and felt your body up like there was no tomorrow. You played with each others tongues and you felt like you were gonna melt with how he was touching you. Kissing you.

Suddenly, you felt another pair of hands snake around you, turning you around. You whined at the loss of Billy's lips but before you could protest some more, Stu crashed his lips against yours and ran his tongue along yours softly. You bit his bottom lip and released it softly, pulling back slightly and chuckling along with him. Without warning, Stu picked you up and walked upstairs to his room along with Billy.

He plopped you on his bed and Billy stepped in front of you; "I'm gonna fuck you up real good." He said quietly and you smirked at him, laying down and spreading your legs enough to expose your center. "I'd like to see you try."

"Damn babe, you're a feisty one huh?" Stu said teasingly and you smiled, biting your bottom lip after.

Billy pulled you towards him by your ankles and took a knife out from his back pocket. He opened your legs and stepped between them before reaching under your dress and cutting your underwear open.

You gasped at his impatientness, loving every second of it. He threw the fabric somewhere in the room before snaking his hand between your legs and feeling how wet you already were. "I haven't even touched you yet and you're this wet for me?" He teased and you let out a little moan for him. Billy chuckled and slid his hands up your lower body, lifting your dress up and revealing your cute little belly button piercing along with a small tattoo above your mound that read "Eat me."

Stu walked over to admire your naked lower half and stuck his tongue out before laughing when he read what the ink on your skin said; "Fuck, don't mind if I do." he said and kneeled down in front of you, placing your legs on his shoulders. Stu dipped his head between your thighs and licked your cunt like a hungry dog. His movements were slow, each swirl over your clit sent waves of pleasure all over your body. He moaned against your core as he devoured you.

Billy observed both of you, his cock waiting to be freed from his jeans. You looked straight into his eyes and moaned his name while Stu was licking and sucking on your sensitive bud. Billy loved the attention you were giving him while getting pleasured by someone else. By his best friend. What a fucking slut.

Finally, he walked towards you and stood on the other side of the bed, his crotch aligned with your face. You stuck your tongue out for him and rolled your eyes, giving him a show. He smirked at you but instead of pulling his cock out and fucking your mouth, he took the knife out once again and placed it on top of your tongue. You licked the blade slowly and moaned just for him. "Fuck..." Billy groaned and finally unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled them down just enough to take his cock out and tap your tongue with the tip. You gave him kitty licks and he grabbed your throat, silently warning you he wasn't in the mood for teasing.

Stu kept eating you out until you were right on the edge of cumming. However, he stopped before you could release and you let out a whine of desperation. Billy laughed at your needyness and finally inserted his length inside your mouth.

Stu had pulled his pants down and was already aligned with your hole. He slid his cock inside you in one go, filling you up deliciously before thrusting slowly.

You moaned around Billy's cock at the feeling of Stu inside you, finally pounding your needy cunt.

"Fuck, you feel so good" Stu moaned. With every thrust you moved up again Billy's cock, taking him in your mouth deeper.

The boys used you like a sex doll and fucked your holes like there was no tomorrow. The feeling of being filled up from both ends was sending you over the edge quicker than you wanted to. You squeezed your walls around Stu's cock and it was nearly impossible for him to stop himself from cumming inside your cunt and filling you up with his seed, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your belly.

You whined at the loss of his cock inside you, needing just a bit more to get off. At the realization, Billy pulled out of your mouth and made his way between your legs. "Move" he told Stu before pushing him to the side. The boy was still catching his breath so he fell on the bed next to you, groaning at the feeling of the soft mattress.

You wrapped your legs around Billy's waist, using your boots to push him further so his cock aligned with your center.

"Fuck me!" You whined, commanding him, but he wasn't having it. The boy grabbed your face and looked you in the eyes. "Shut up." he growled and pushed his cock all the way inside you.

You almost screamed at the feeling of his length filling you up, your pussy instantly squeezing him deliciously. Both of you were practically at the edge and Billy was going to take care of that little problem his way.

"I'm cumming inside you whether you like it or not." He said quietly and you laughed softly, grabbing his hair and pulling his face against you. "Do it." you challenged and he smirked, followed by a moan.

Billy digged his fingers in your thighs, sure to leave bruises, before he came inside you, his cock the hardest it could be. The feel of him spilling inside you sent you over the edge as well and you screamed out his name and Stu's as well. You dug your nails in his back, leaving scratches that were sure going to be there for days.

Once you guys rode out your highs, Billy lay down sprawled next to you, his jeans covering his lower half.

You looked between your legs to see Billy's juices leaking out of you, releasing a soft whine before laying down between the boys.

"You're uh, on the pill or something, right?..." Billy asked, post nut clarity hitting him suddenly. You laughed at his concern and nodded, "Yes, I am. You should learn how to control yourself Loomis, you're gonna regret it some day." He chuckled at your words and looked at you, "With that pussy of yours it's nearly impossible." - "You got that right, Jesus..." Stu said, sleepiness lacing his words. You bit your lip at their praise and stood up to freshen up. "Can I use your shower?" You asked Stu and both boys looked at each other before catching your eyes. "Only if I can join." Stu said, sticking his tongue out. You rolled your eyes playfully and flipped him off, "Fuck off Macher." before walking out of the room. The silent invitation was evident as you smirked at both boys and shrugged.

You weren't sure what the status of your relationship was, but you liked it more than you probably should've.

[mysicklove]

i had the most unhinged thought and raced to your inbox because i need this demon expelled from my body asap. hawks coming home from the worst day of patrol, everything went wrong and he had to speak up at a press conference, play the part of perfect, and all he wants is to melt into your touch. you can see it in his eyes, the dark circles, and the weary tilt of his smile. "baby bird," his voice is hoarse, "need you to hurt me tonight," so he can finally unravel. you're the only one he wants to be perfect for. okay goodbyeee 💀

𝐔𝐍𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐕𝐀𝐒

Pairing: Masochist! Hawks x Gn! Sadist! Reader

CW: face slapping, lots of blood, cock stepping, kicking, bruising, cock slapping, heavy degration, loss of air, mean reader, tons and tons of tears, scratching, mouth spitting, no mention of safe word but keep in mind it is there !!!

A/N: anon im sorry i totally changed ur thing, i just saw masochist hawks and sprinted. the demons wrote this, not me. dont look at me everyone. HEED THE TAGS

it was a way to blow off steam. something that he looks forward to, just some time where he doesn't have to think anymore. only feeling he has the stinging sensations and the tears that prick his eyes. it was an embaressing obsession he had. he loved pain.

Keigo walks to the bedroom, his hero costume tattered, and dark circles under his eyes. he is exhausted, but coming to you for your touch. pulling you close to him, and mumbling into your neck how bad he wants you to hurt him. till he bruises and bleeds. till every thought just disappears except for you.

and so you pull away, and slap him. it makes him tumble backward, and his yellow glasses fall off. he touches the tingling feeling on his face, blood spilling out from the skin caught on your wedding ring. you dont let up, sending another loud smack across his face, and this time he does fall to the ground, landing on his ass.

tears prick at his eyes, and he can feel his lip tear open. the taste of blood coats his mouth and he gulps, looking up at you for more.

he feels your foot jab onto his clothed cock and he keens, wincing up at you. "w-wait," he stutters, throwing his head back when your press even harder. "fuck!"

"wait? you want me to wait? after you begged for it like a dog?" he is squirming under you, tears now streaming down his face as you dig your foot into his pants.

"'m sorry. sorry—you are going to kill me!" he pleads, hands trying to dig themself into the carpet to fight back against the pain.

you sigh, and let up, instead using your foot to push at his chest, causing him to fall over and onto his back. "take off your clothes, Keigo," you mumble, taking a seat on the bed with crossed legs and staring down at him.

"okay. okay. I will. Just give me a minute!" he pants, tearing off his jacket and shirt as fast as he can. he knows something is coming, you werent playing nice.

you dont give him enough time, he reaches for his pants, and without hesitation you slam your foot into his stomach. he goes tumbling backwards and lands on his side, curling into a ball and panting. his eyes are wide and he is gripping onto his adomen. it surely will leave a huge bruise tomorrow. but thats not what he is worried about, he cant breathe.

"awww, did you get the wind knocked out of you? that's what happens when you move too slow," you tease, as you take in his appearance. he trembles in front of you, looking up at you in fear. tears drip down his cheeks and onto the ground, as he tries and fails to catch his breath.

you giggle at him, padding over to him. he flinches at the footsteps, bracing himself for another kick, but you just begin to unbutton his pants, pulling them down. "useless thing, arent you. cant follow any directions," you coo, now tearing off his boxers.

his cock springs out, tip red and leaking pre cum. "such a pervert! you sick fuck, keigo. who gets hard from getting beat?" you land another slap to his thigh, and his whole body jerks.

you smile at the red handprint, glancing back at him to see him beginning to drool. its coated red from the blood from his cheek and lip. he's is still heaving from the kick, eyes wide, and body gasping for oxygen.

"say Hawks do you get turned on when you are losing against villains? pop a boner like a freak for anyone who hits you?"

his eyes flash to you and he is shaking his head desperately. his words are breathless, "no. no. 'm not a freak!"

a quick, but harsh slap to his cock. he jumps again, globs of tears falling quicker. "fuckkkkk," he whimpers, shaking his head back and forth. his whole body shakes, and fingers dig into his own skin.

"you liar! do you want to be kicked again?"

"no no no no. im sorry. im sorry! im a freak. a pervert who likes to get hit. im sorry," he sobs, reaching for your ankle for comfort. you slap it away and he hisses, rubbing the back of it with a sniffle.

but you smile at him and lean over to sit on his chest. his head is still lolled to the side and his body racks with sobs. "shhhhhhh. so whiny Keigo. thanks for admitting it. my disgusting pervert. here, a reward."

you grab his face, hard enough to bruise, and force him to look up at you. his eyes are half shut in a wince, but he tries to force them open to look at you. you pry his mouth open, lean forward, and drop a glob of spit into his mouth.

he doesnt hesitate to swallow it, opening his mouth up again and sticking his tongue out to show you its gone. "th-thank you," he whimpers, and you smile fondly at him.

you hands trail up and down his down his body, sending vicicoius red raised scratchmarks along his pretty skin. "now, pervert....what should we do to this pretty canvas?"

he grins up at you, tears still dripping, and blood staining his cheeks and lips, but still stars in his eyes. "anything."

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 19 - Free Use]

Pairing: sub!Taehyung x Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU

Kinks: living room sex, free use kink, guided male masturbation, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, creampie, cock riding on the sofa, rough carrying sex against the window, semi-public sex ‘cause of the window, masochist!Tae, sadist!Reader, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation (slut), choking, “forced” finger sucking, subby boy tears, slight dollification, praise, squirting, very brief cunnilingus, lots of begging, he kneels at one point, strength kink cause of the carrying sex, soft & loving aftercare

Wordcount: 5.1k

a/n: inspired by this ask your idea was just too powerful, i was too inflicted by it not to write it gngnng this kink screams Sanguis!Tae so you are getting it with him gndfng have fun besties ❤

Taehyung has an apartment in Paris. Although “apartment” puts it lightly. It is in one of the city’s many old buildings, stretching over the last two floors and with a roof terrace nestled into the architecture. The apartment has high ceilings and old wooden floors. The furniture is a mixture of antiques and modern design pieces and wherever one might look, there is some sort of artwork presented. The main lights are rarely turned on because Taehyung has every room set up perfectly with ambient lights. On the first floor, one finds the entrance space, the main living room, the kitchen and a big dining room, a bathroom, a separate toilet and two guest bedrooms. Upstairs is reserved for a clothing room, another bathroom and the main bedroom while the rest of the rooms are turned into art studios of all sorts. The apartment is so distinctively Taehyung. Itis cozy, homey and filled with art history and you are currently spending your days in it. 

You and he left the estate behind to go on a romantic two-on-two trip to Paris. It is always bittersweet to leave the others behind, but you dearly needed some alone time. 

You have been in Paris for seven nights by now, tonight is the eighth, and you spent most of the time together. Ever since yesterday however, you and he have been spending less time together as normality in the apartment settled in. You didn’t mind. It is nice to live together and go about your day to day life. 

Taehyung has been at home for most of today, sculpting in his crafts room. You spent most of the day outside, cruising the secret shops of the supernatural world for some ingredients. One can never be stocked up enough for potion making.

It is already dark when you come home, locking the door and kicking off your shoes.

“Chéri, I’m home!” you call out in French. You are currently learning French and Korean with the help of your boys. Up until now, it’s been going really well. 

Taehyung appears in the hallway.

“Chèri, hello. How are you?” he greets you and says something you can’t understand quite yet.

“Say that again?”

He repeats it slowly, pointing at your bags.

“Ah! Yes, I got a few things. Seriously though, I underestimated how quickly natives speak. I felt lost sometimes”, you tell him in English.

“I understand, but you managed to communicate well?” he asks you in English as well.

“Yeah, thankfully. I can give you a haul of the things soon, but I really gotta pee.” 

“Don’t let me keep you from it. I shall carry the bags to the living room in the meantime. Or do you prefer them to be somewhere else?”

“No, the living room is perfect. You’re a darling. Thank you”, you say and hurry away before it is too late.

Taehyung is watching television again when you join him. You changed out of your outside clothes into a comfortable lounge set and freshened up. Taehyung put the bags on the coffee table, currently watching a French cooking show as he enjoys a glass of blood.

“That looks delicious.” 

“It does?” Taehyung asks, glancing at the blood in disbelief.

“No, not the blood. The food in the show.” 

“Ah, this makes more sense. Indeed, it looks rather appetizing. Shall we dine out tonight?” 

“No, it’s okay. I ate a burger before coming here.” 

“I see. Tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

You climb on his lap, facing him. Taehyung shifts his eyes from the television to you. You take the glass out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. Then you turn the show off, looking at him with a flutter of your lashes.

“What is this?” he asks, studying your body. The lounge set you chose is expensive and a present by him. It hugs your curves seductively, making it difficult for him not to stare at your breasts. He isn’t subtle in his struggle. You like that he isn’t.

“I have a question for you”, you say, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“You do?” 

You nod your head.

He cocks his left brow up, “go ahead, darling.” 

“Do you know the concept of free use?”

He widens his eyes, fingers twitching on your waist and thighs tensing.

“Darling you”, he begins, having to laugh breathily, “of course I do, but I do not understand why this is of importance right now.” 

“Because I’m going to free use you right now.”

“You are?” he croaks, tugging on his shirt collar because he suddenly feels hot beyond compare. 

“Mh-hm I am. I need an orgasm.”

You look into his eyes deeply. This is his chance to stop this. This is your silent, yet to him obvious, question for his consent. It won’t be spoken by you because you want to play into the entire free use aspect, but Taehyung knows your signs well enough not to need words. He can stop this right now and whenever he needs to. 

He doesn’t want this to stop. He is very down to fuck you. Very down. Ever since you sat down on his lap looking so pretty in your set, his mind has been spiralling.   

“O-okay”, he stutters, nodding his head. 

The consent was given.

“That’s what I thought. Not that I would have accepted anything else anyway”, you say and slip off his lap.

“Darling, heavens”, he gasps, stomach tingling unbearably. 

You open his pants, truly wasting no time. Taehyung moans softly, lifting his butt so you could undress him. You do it hastily, throwing his pants to the side. 

So now his lower body is bared while you kneel in front of him. He is completely soft, of course he is, and his breathing is still at a normal speed. You ought to change both of these things very, very soon.

“You’re so pretty when you’re soft, darling.” 

“Thank you, oh heavens.” 

“You know that I’m gonna have to make you hard though, don’t you?” 

“I do.” He opens his legs. “Do whatever you need to do, I can take it.” 

It is needless to mention that whatever is still in his borders of comfort, which you respect deeply. He feels safe in saying such big words and engaging in such a “dangerous” kink with you because of this respect. 

“Of course I’ll do anything I want to you, darling. You don’t have a say right now, remember?” 

His cock twitches slightly. You smirk, rubbing his inner thighs.

“Of course you know. The one who is in control is me and you are meant to be my little play doll.”

“Darling”, Taehyung whimpers, thrusting his hips against nothing. His cock twitches again, growing harder. 

“You’re my doll, Tae. All mine.”

His cock twitches into a semi hard boner, fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. You know exactly what to say to rile him up. Calling him a doll, reducing him to nothing but this will always be one of his weaknesses.

You purr, rubbing your hands over his sculpted thighs as you flutter your lashes up at him. His skin is so soft, the hair which covers it tickles your palms. You could eat him up.

“Isn’t that right, darling? Are you my pretty doll?”

“Yes, Owner”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously.

“Mh-hm you are, such a pretty doll. My pretty doll with his pretty, little doll cock”, you coo, letting your lips ghost over his cockhead without ever touching it.

It leaks and twitches as Taehyung whimpers above you. He is growing rapidly, breathing heavier. His hungry eyes are glued to your lips, every nerve in his body waits for the moment you decide to take him into your mouth.

Closer. Taehyung holds his breath.

Closer. Taehyung tries not to puck his hips up. A good doll would never.

Closer. He can practically feel your lips on his tip. The memories of all the times he was nestled in your warm mouth come rushing into his mind.  

Closer. Your breath tickles his cock. He throbs in anticipation.

Closer. Now. It is finally happening. Taehyung closes his eyes and rolls his head back in preparation.

“Actually. I changed my mind.”

He doesn’t want to open his eyes at first, scared to face his reality. In the end he has to however, facing your wicked smirk and burning eyes.

“I don’t wanna suck your cock, it’s boring.”

“What?” he gets out, eyes widening in pleading.

You stand up, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Masturbate yourself.”

It takes him a moment to conceptualise what you just asked him to do and once it finally sinks it, Taehyung swears he might never recover. He moans just for your pleasure, wrapping his left hand around his semi-hard cock to pump it quickly.

“No, no, no. Slow down.”

He obeys even if it means that there is something missing. He moves his hand at a normal pace, looking up at you like the good doll he currently wants to be. It feels good, but could be better.

“Slower.”

He obeys, eyes glazing over in agony. This isn’t enough. He is barely moving his hand around his cock, the stimulation is way too little for someone as needy as him.

“There we go. That’s more like it”, you purr, watching him hungrily.

“Owner”, he gets out, trying to make up for the loss of speed by keeping his touch focused on his tip.

“Is it not enough, mhm?”

“No”, he keens, shaking his head.

“Mhm, poor doll. How does it make you feel?”

“Restless.”

“Restless? You seem pretty restful to me.”

He squirms, widening his eyes in begging. It amuses you and so you chuckle.

“You’re funny, Tae.”

“Owner please”, Taehyung begs, fluttering his lashes.

But you ignore him, staying silent. You watch his hand as it touches his own cock. He is so slow. You know how much this agonises him. Taehyung might pretend to be a patient, proper gentleman but you know him, you know his most naked, disgusting truth. He is greedy, he is impatient and he likes it rough. You watched him jerk off a hundred times before, watched how he practically tortured his cock to an orgasm. This right now is a different kind of torture to him. The kind which makes him desperate.

Good. 

You can’t really explain what made you want to torture him all of a sudden. You blame the good day on it and your jeans rubbing your pussy as you walked around Paris. Or maybe it is Taehyung in his low cut shirt and hid dark hair messy. Something made you horny enough to want to be with Taehyung this way. To want to use him as you please. 

His cock is already harder than when he began. He is breathing heavier, eyes pleading you silently. 

“It’s working, isn’t it?” 

“Not enough.” 

“Poor doll. Does your doll cock need more?” 

“Yes”, he whimpers, growing harder. He squirms, “please.” 

“Mmh”, you bend down and grab his balls. They were squished on the sofa first but Taehyung lifts his hips in reaction, allowing you a good grip on them. You roll them in your fingers, fucking him with just your eyes. 

Taehyung whimpers, lips parted and droopy eyes staring into yours. Like this, you can smell his sweetened breath and taste the memory of all the kisses you shared. 

“Your balls are so heavy, darling. I want them to empty everything inside me.” 

His balls tighten, his poor cock throbs in his hand. Taehyung moans your name, chasing your kiss which results in you straightening up again. He whimpers, eyes glazing over. He wants your kiss like he wants air. 

“Faster.” 

He obeys gladly, writhing on the sofa. 

“More.” 

“___”, he moans loudly, throwing his head back in ecstasy now that it finally, fucking finally, is enough. It feels so good. His cock is hard instantly, pulsating between his long fingers. 

“Use your second hand as well.” 

Taehyung wraps it around his base, cursing in French because it feels way too good. 

“What did you just say?” 

“I said. Heavens on fucking earth, this feels good.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes”, he mewls, rolling his hips up into his fists. His meaty thighs are trembling, his chest is heaving up and down quickly. He is throbbing like crazy in his hands, tip glistening in bliss.

"Take it away.”

“No, please.”

“Take it away. Now.”

“You’re cruel”, he croaks, obeying groggily. 

“Mhm I am. The cruelest”, you murmur, scanning your eyes over his leaking cock. His tip is flushed and his veins swollen. He is so wet, so hard. You can’t wait to sit on it. 

“Please, it hurts.”

“Poor you, awww.” 

You undress, only keeping your jewellery on. You feel so sexy like this and Taehyung’s hungry gaze makes these feelings even stronger.

You touch your own torso, feeling up your curves until landing on your tits. You knead them, purring softly. Taehyung opens and closes his mouth in hungry gasps, tongue almost dripping saliva.  

“What do you think of me, doll?” 

“That you are the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this earth.”

His praise pleases you, making your heart flutter.

“You know exactly what to say, you darling you.”

“Please”, he breathes, rolling his hips against nothing.

You close the distance and push at his chest to make him fall against the backrest. You climb onto his lap, wrapping your fingers around his cock. The other palm you present to him.

He eyes it in confusion, squirming under your weight because you are moving your hand around his length and it feels so good to him. Your palm is so warm, the pressure you use just right. 

“Spit on my hand”, you order, wiggling your fingers impatiently, “don’t let me wait.”

He obeys with a mewl, unable to catch his breath afterwards.

“There we go, so wet”, you purr, spreading it on his cock in slow, sensual strokes. 

Taehyung’s eyes fall closed halfway, his lips part. It feels so good to be touched. Your fingers and palm are so soft, stroking the most sensitive spots on his cock. Your pussy is on his thigh, marking his skin. So wet and warm. It drives him insane to be like this with you.

To make matters even worse for his poor sanity, you pucker your lips and spit on his cock in a thick, heavy drip. You pick it up and mix it with his own spit, using it to pleasure him.

Taehyung curses in Korean for a change, head dropping against the backrest and fingers dimpling your hips. 

“What did you say, darling?” 

“Fucking hell, it feels so good”, he croaks, squirming his hips needily.

“Mhhmh it does”, you coo, twisting your hand around his messy cock. “Now you’re getting wet. Your doll cock is so wet for me.” 

“Ah! Please!” 

“There we go”, you ignore him and lift yourself to align with his cock. You sink down, taking him inside easily. A deep purr rumbling in your chest lets him know how good it feels to you.

Taehyung shoots up in surprise, hands gripping your buttocks and eyes widening in shock. He wants to say something, but you silence him by stuffing your slickened fingers into his mouth. All four of them with your thumb under his chin. 

Taehyung gurgles, eyes going cross and mouth instantly working to suck you off. 

“Perfect, keep sucking”, you encourage him, moving your hips on him in a way which is pleasurable for you. Judging by his needy moans around your digits, it’s pleasurable for him as well but that’s not important right now. You are doing this for yourself, you are doing this because you want it. Taehyung is only supposed to be your dildo and a pretty thing to look at.

And oh how pretty he looks with his mouth gagged by fingers and drool dripping down his chin. His cheeks are flushed and wet from the tears he spills. Said tears also stick to his lashes in little pearls. You press down on his tongue, twisting your hand deeper. 

Taehyung gags, eyes going out of focus and body trembling. You let him suffer for three seconds, then finally pull out. Taehyung gasps for air, grasping your waist in relief. The relief isn’t for long and then you already have your wet hand around his throat, squeezing down on his veins. And Taehyung can’t keep up with all the sensations, body reacting against his control. 

He grows inside you, shaking as you make him see stars with only your hand. 

“That feels so good”, you moan, chasing the growing pleasure. You love when he fills you out to the very brim. The stretch is addicting and his size allows for your deepest spots to be pleasured as well. You chase the warmth by pressing yourself closer, clit grinding against his groin each time you roll your hips. 

Taehyung moans under you, fingers trembling around your waist and thighs shaking. He is very sensitive when he is with you. He is normally very proud of his stamina, but when you play him like this, he turns into an excited little teenager who climaxes after only a few minutes. He is giddy, turned on and completely ruined, trying to think of anything else to keep himself from climaxing without your permission.

The fire in your eyes and the strength of your grip lets him know that his disobedience would not be appreciated. Now granted, Taehyung loves punishments, especially your punishments, but he hates disappointing you. He hates it so much that he would rather miss out on getting punished than disobey you. Which makes this a lot harder for him.

“It’s too much. Too, too much.”

“I don’t care, shut up”, you spit and stuff your fingers into his mouth again.

Taehyung gags at first but begins sucking eagerly soon after, cock throbbing inside you and eyes spilling new tears.

“That’s better”, you lull your words, head foggy. The view is turning you on so much, sitting on his cock is so good. You can’t do that for long, you never can. You love being with him that climaxing is so, so easy. Knowing that he is close makes it even harder not to entirely break around him. But then. Why should you hold back? You have no reason to drag this out. You came here to get an orgasm nothing more, you don’t have to impress Taehyung.

You let go of your pride and fall into the sensations, rolling your head back and arching your back as you dance your hips on his in a fast, sensual rhythm. Your toes curl. His cock goes so deep, rubbing your favourite spots.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it”, you moan, smiling drunkenly as around you the air is dancing in ecstasy.

Taehyung’s desperate mewls around your digits are like music to your ears. He is probably crying right now, but you don’t care to check. You are high, so far gone in the warmth.

“You’ve got the best cock, doll. So fucking good…”

Taehyung is breathless, not only because you are stuffing his mouth, but also because of you. You are so beautiful, glowing in the ambience lights as you arch and bend your body in the most feminine and sensual display of pleasure. If only he could take pictures with his eyes. He is starstruck. He sucks on your digits with even more eagerness, running his hands along your body just so he could memorise it in the current position.

He cups your breasts, rubbing your nipples.

“Yes fuck”, you moan, arching into his touch. You tug him closer and slip your fingers free. Taehyung needs no words to understand, latching his eager mouth onto your nipples to pleasure them eagerly. He switches between both sloppily, soiling your chest with his drool.

“Tae, darling”, your voice is high in pleasure, body shaking atop of him. This is it. You slam your hips down, convulsing around his big cock.

Taehyung groans, dragging his slickened tongue over your nipple while his long fingers dimple your flesh.

“Now. Yes”, you keen, falling back as your high finally hits you.

Taehyung supports you easily, following your movements as his strong hands hold you safely. He sucks on your nipple eagerly, trying his hardest not to bite down on it. It is difficult because you have him so close to his own orgasm.

“Yes wow”, you come down, lifting yourself off of him instantly.

“No darling please”, he gasps, trying to tug you back.

But you act uninterested. He can sense in the way you move, see it in the way you breathe, that your orgasm left you shaken and that you are just pretending not to be affected. You climb off his lap, trying your hardest not to tremble.

“Darling”, he tries, hands slipping from your hips as you step back.

You don’t answer him, turning your back to him to leave.

“Jagiya”, Taehyung whimpers in Korean, grabbing your hand.

You turn, looking down at him.

“What? Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

He is panting, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. His cock is so hard and swollen and so, so clearly edged, still glistening from your juices.

“Please don’t leave me like this. Please.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I got what I wanted.”

“Please.”

You slip your hand from his shaky hold and turn to leave.

“Jagiya please”, he begs in both languages, falling to his knees and grasping your shirt.

“Oop”, you wobble, almost losing balance. You turn from the momentum, holding his grabby hands for support. “What is this supposed to be?”

“Please, I know you don’t want to leave either. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good to you please”, he begs, looking up at you snotty and teary eyed.

“If you actually wanted to be good, you’d let me leave”, you say, doing a shitty job pretending that he leaves you cold. He knows you so well. Of course you don’t want to leave. Slipping off of him was the hardest thing you ever did, but sometimes you just gotta hear him beg.

“Please”, he sobs, hugging your waist and burying his face in your stomach, “please, I’m begging you.”

You gulp, feeling dizzy. His arms stretch the fabric of his shirt, bulging and tensing from the strength he grasps you with. He looks so pathetic begging on his knees and you get off to it so fucking good.

“Let me go”, you order in faux annoyance.

“Please”, Taehyung pleads and increases his own patheticness by slipping his hands under your shirt to scratch his nails down your back. And as he does that, he tilts his head back, connecting his mouth with your pleasured cunt.

“Tae”, you gasp loudly, loosing balance for a moment which you find by grabbing huge bundles of his thick hair. He has so much of it that it spills out between your fingers in such thick bundles you cannot even see your fingers in his locks anymore. “Holy fuck, Tae”, you moan, throwing your head back as you stumble closer to his face.

His desperation is so obvious in the way he licks you. He drools like an animal, unable to decide whether to suck the soul out of your clit or lick her senseless. These are definitely not the actions of a gentleman, these are the actions of a gentleman ruined by pussy way too good. This is the kind of head only someone brought to his limits gives, of someone who thought he could handle being used but who ended up way too weak for his goddess of a woman.

Taehyung lifts his head when desperation hurts in his heart and cock, drool dripping from his chin and fangs on full display. Thick strings of spit still connect him with your cunt, they are so heavy in consistency that they almost look slimy in the lights, only breaking apart once he begs again.

“Please, I can’t do this please.”

You furrow your brows and tug on his hair. He moans, tilting his head back with a roll of his eyes and his messy lips parting. Like this, you bend down so he can taste the poison of your words on the very tongue he used to almost steal your sanity.

“You’re a fucking slut.”

“Yes, the biggest”, he agrees with you in a pitched voice, nodding his head.

You tug harder, eliciting a pained whimper from him.

“Exactly, the biggest, most pathetic slut ever.”

Taehyung spills tears and tries to beg again. In French this time around because you have his brain scrambled enough that he can’t decide in which language to think.

“Please I’m sorry please.”

“You should be. Pathetic slut”, you spit and release his hair just so you can strike him across the cheek.

Taehyung moans, cock twitching so aggressively you almost pity it. Look at it, looking so desperate for something to keep it warm. Taehyung chases your hand after the slap, eyes looking at you even if they are constantly tearing up.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

He nods his head.

“Of course you did, you slut”, you say and slap his other cheek as well for symmetry.

Taehyung reacts in a curse, instantly following it up with a beg. Korean this time around.

“Please I’m sorry I-I’m a slut, I can’t do this please.”

“Fine”, you give up, “it’s not like I can get you to shut up.” You sigh in faux annoyance. “Go ahead, I guess. Get your reward.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans and is instantly standing up, swooping you off your feet just to push you down onto his thick cock. He bottoms out in synch with your back hitting the cold glass of the living room window, forcing a gasp for air out of you. You arch your back, grasping his hair just in time before he begins rutting into you like a needy animal.

“I love you”, he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you. I bloody love you.” 

You wrap your limbs around him, face nuzzling into his shoulder and toes curling in electric pleasure.

“I love you too”, you get out, fingers grasping his thick hair. “Keep going, you’re so good. Ah fuck, you’re so good.”

“Urgh darling, I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours”, he spits, obeying your orders with eager, restless hips.

It feels so good to finally move, to finally fuck you how he craved to do. He doesn’t do it for himself, he does it for you because he knows that you love it. You love when he is rough, when he is strong and fast and when he drills his huge cock into your dripping pussy until you feel like passing out.

“Yes mine”, you croak, pulling him closer with your legs, “grinds Tae, grinds.”

“Yes, Owner”, he obeys, burying his cock as deep as he can go before he begins grinding you on him. He moves his hips for it, using his strength to move your body in the same rhythm.

“Ah! Wow, holy fuck”, you get out loudly, dropping your head against the window as you writhe in his arms. You twist his hair, pussy throbbing around him.

“You’re beautiful. You are so beautiful. And you feel so good. Darling, you feel so good”, he chants, spilling tears at the view of you.

“This is making me cum again, ah!”

“Let go, I’m yours to use. I’m all yours, this is all for you.”

“Tae”, you arch your back, grasping his face as the last thing you do before you orgasm a second time. It feels so much more intense than the first one because Taehyung is fucking it out of you and he is so goddamn good at that.

“Yes, thank you. Oh darling”, he whimpers, trying to slow down.

“No faster! Now!”

“I will climax if I-“

“Shut up! Faster!”

“Empress”, he sobs and obeys, picking up the same speed than before.

“Tae!” you scream, writhing in utter ecstasy as he finally brings you to the peak you craved. You squirt around his cock, soiling his legs and the floor this way. And Taehyung is a goner. With his eyes rolling back and his head dropping into your breasts, he climaxes against his will.

“I’m sorry”, he whimpers, filling you with his hot seed until it leaks out of you.

You can’t be angry at him, not when you enjoy it so much. You believed this moment couldn’t get any better until you felt his cock paint your walls. Finally you feel it, finally he is emptying his balls into you. Just how you ordered him to do.

“Good doll, such a good doll”, you mewl, entirely gone in the blissful heaven you and he share.

“Again, it’s so good”, Taehyung wails because your praise ruins him. He thought that you would be disappointed, but you are proud. You wanted him to orgasm. Oh, he wants to fill you even more and he does, pumping into you until you feel warm in your stomach and his balls are truly empty.

He uses the last of his strength to hurry to the sofa and then he drops into the pillows with you on top of him. The two of you are filling the silence with heavy panting, staying glued together as your bodies are just a little stiff in shock. This was way more intense than you planned it to be. Is it truly this addicting to be with each other?

You are the first to recover just enough that you can at least lift your head. He meets your gaze with barely open eyes, messy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“Good boy”, you praise.

“I love you”, he gets out.

“I love you too”, you say and smile.

Taehyung retorts it, giving your hips a tender squeeze.

“Are you okay? I know I was mean to you. How is your face? Did I slap you too hard?”

“Everything you did was perfect. Thank you so much.”

“This is so good to hear”, you say and nuzzle your nose into his cheek with a cute sound.

Taehyung has to giggle because of it, face scrunching up into the brightest boxy smile and eyes closing. His chest fills with warmth, his stomach flutters.

“Wow, I’m so obsessed with you.”

“You are?”

“Mhm, so obsessed. I missed you today and I just…I saw you and needed you. I don’t wanna be apart from you, Tae darling. Being with you is paradise.”

“Yes it is”, he agrees and turns his head to steal a surprise kiss.

“Mhm”, you let out, startled at first before you purr and kiss him back. Your fingers lace themselves deep in his hair, he hugs you against his chest and like this, you fall into slow kisses and tender touches, making the paradise last so much longer.

[allzelemonz]

Helmet: Slade Wilson X Male Reader

Summertime Prompt: Day 3, "Clothes Swap" Pronouns: None mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and wears boxers Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Mild Sex Warnings: Clothes swap trope, choking, kind of unhealthy but it’s Slade so, kissing, possessiveness, fluff but only after violence, obsessive, s&m kinda, handjobs, underwear kink Summary: Slade finds you wearing his helmet.

“If you don’t take that off in the next ten seconds, I’ll impale you.”

The sound of Slade's voice isn’t as familiar, now muffled by his helmet covering your ears. It sounds gruffer, but that might be from him being pissed off about you wearing it.

“Come on, Slade, it’s just--”

He yanks the helmet off of your head, tossing it aside as he shoves you into the wall. His fists clench around your shirt and he lifts you up so you can’t reach the ground, his enhanced strength giving no resistance. Your feet kick uselessly in the air as you squirm in surprise. His hand moves to grip your throat and you still under the grasp, looking down at his icy blue eyes.

His hand clenches around your throat. “What have I said about touching what’s mine?”

“Don’t.” You croak out, breath struggling to get to your lungs.

Slade stares at you for a moment before he lets you go. “Good boy.” He mutters as you drop to the floor.

“Sorry.”

“Damn right you are.” He scoffs, picking up his helmet. “Just because you belong to me doesn’t mean you get to touch the other things I own.”

You slide down the wall, letting your breathing even out. “I know.”

He’s quiet for a while, just staring at the one eyed helmet. “Still looked hot on you.”

You huff slightly, shaking your head.

“Come here, smartass.” He mutters.

With a sigh, you stand and walk over to him. He brushes your hair back and sets the helmet aside.

“Do you want one?” He asks, resting his hand on your cheeks.

“Want one?”

“A helmet.” He clarifies. “Like mine.”

“I just wanted to try it on, Slade.”

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You should wear more orange.”

“You didn’t have to choke me over that.”

“I know.” He moves his hand to your neck, running a thumb over your windpipe. “I just like choking you.”

“Sadist.”

“Masochist.”

You kiss his cheek as he smirks at you and he grips your hair to pull you back in for a full kiss. One hand tugs at your hair while the other squeezes at your throat. You groan against his lips as he pulls back, a string of saliva only breaking when he licks it away.

“I guess you can wear some of my shit if it looks that sexy on you.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

He hums, running a thumb over your lips. “You gotta share too.”

“And what do you want?”

He sighs, a hand dropping to your waist and fingers dipping to pull at the hem of your boxers. “A man can’t want his toy’s underwear for when he’s away on missions?”

“Freak.” You mutter.

“Used.” He mumbles, a hand slipping beneath your waistband. “I wanna have something to smell when I’m stuck waiting for a mark.”

His fingers curl around your dick and he squeezes harshly to make you groan.

“Such a bastard.”

He kisses your ear as you lean into his shoulder to support your legs as they grow weak from his harsh strokes. “I’ll leave a pair for you too.”

[folkookie97]

❝fighting for our love❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝Jungkook always hated arguing with you. But your relationship was doomed to this habit since you rejected his wedding proposal.❞

— PAIRING: boyfriend!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

— TYPE: angst | non-idol!au, established relationship

— WORD COUNT: 585

— WARNINGS: argument, couple issues, ambiguous/open ending (?), curse words

— NOTES: maybe Seven's MV teaser drove me crazy and i wrote this shit almost crying.

— RELEASE DATE: July 13, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3, wattpad, spirit fanfics

Jungkook wasn't a contentious person. What he looked up to the most in his life was tranquility; he hated being surrounded by conflicts. Arguments stressed him out and even gave him an intense migraine. It was almost as if his head could explode at any moment. He always felt like his head would explode at any moment during these situations.

The habit of arguing with other people surely has never been present in his life. However the past few months triggered his mind with an almost masochistic habit. A sudden change in his routine accustomed him to disagreements and made him competent when he needed to defend his point of view.

Jungkook always hated arguing with you. But your relationship was doomed to this habit since you rejected his wedding proposal.

"Can you at least look at me while we're arguing?" You gestured impatiently and let the silverware fall onto your still full plate.

For the first time that night, Jungkook brought his deer-like eyes directly to the woman. Her delicate face looked so pretty with the flush on her chubby cheeks and the slightly parted lips; a consequence of your breathlessness.

You looked so fucking beautiful that Jungkook almost felt guilty for his mean behavior that night.

Just almost.

"We're not arguing. You are." He calmly sipped the wine that had been served just a few minutes before.

"You must be fucking kidding me." A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clenched fists to refrain punching your boyfriend's face.

"I'm not." Jungkook shrugged after putting the glass of wine back on the table. "Have I ever been a bad boyfriend to my darling before?"

His rhetorical question carried such a bitter tone that it instantly made you feel nauseous.

Your stomach hurts as much as your heartbroken. Intrusive thoughts about flipping over every table and smashing every piece of the restaurant flooded your mind as you noticed a smile on Jungkook's lips.

You knew it wasn't appropriate to get angry in public. However your boyfriend's expression carried a sarcastic acidity that made you consider losing your first offender stabbing his tattooed hand.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Seriously? I'm an asshole for not fighting with you?"

You overwhelmed by Jungkook's sadistic insolence under the curious gazes of the other customers.

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE FOR NOT FIGHTING FOR OUR FUCKING RELATIONSHIP!"

An absolute silence settles in the establishment as your scream comes to an end.

The mocking expression fades from Jungkook's face as the absence of sound takes over. He allows himself to stare at you with wide eyes and noticing dense tears flowing down your cheeks.

Jungkook knew he had no right to wipe away your tears when he was the one who made you cry. Despite everything the desire to comfort you in his arms never leaves his heart.

Jungkook remains seated when you curses at him in a pained whisper and walks towards the restroom. Time passes while he recalls about the past few months and regrets all his choices that brought your love to ruin.

He wished he hadn't proposed to you during a family dinner.

He wished he hadn't gotten angry when you said you weren't ready to get married yet.

He wished he had understood your reasons.

He wished he hadn't been a terrible boyfriend to you because of his wounded ego.

Jungkook wished never to argue again with the woman he loved so much.

Jungkook would fight for your love. He would fix it.

[xythlia]

↳ MEA CULPA

Latin - an acknowledgement of ones fault or error, often said in apology

› my contribution to the sicko satoru agenda brought to u by nyquil & fever dreams <3

› yandere satoru x f!reader

› word count : 2.5k+

warnings : rilegious imagery, masturbation f & m mentioned, voyeurism, stalking, panty stealing, home invasion technically, hes mad obsessive, noncon revoked consent, taking advantage of a drunk person, alcohol consumption, satoru is a bit of a sadist & a masochist to me, creampie, prone bone, backshots, reader has hair long enough to pull, installing spyware on someone's phone

If there is such a thing as a soulmate Satoru knows you're his. Knew it from the very first moment he saw you buying coffee on that mid thaw spring day. He hadn't been able to ignore the ever growing thump of his heart in his ears, hadn't been able to forget the way you looked, nor how your eyes had lingered on him for a second longer than what was considered polite. The instant intrigue had him snared, helpless against the trap that was you.

Without a doubt you're what keeps his heart beating.

The sweetness that permeates your whole being sates him better than any treat could hope to. He sees it in the way you often chat with your next door neighbor if you two pass by either coming or going, a kind smile on your face or even an indulgent giggle here or there. Its in the way you stop to pet a stray cat on your walk back to your car, scratching under its chin as you coo at it.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't make something ugly twist in his gut, it should be him that gets to hear your laughter, him that you fawn over and speak so softly too. It's jealousy, he's aware enough to recognize it but couldn't ever bring himself to admit it makes his jaw clench and his fingers ache to cause some unfortunate mishap with your neighbor. The little cat would find itself whisked to a shelter, no longer diverting your attention on your way home.

But by far his favorite thing about you, and what makes him forget all about that foul envy constricting around his mind like a cobra, is seeing you in the waning hours of the evening when your bedroom glows faintly orange from the soft lamp at your bedside.

Never had the act of undressing looked so religious. His hands shake with pure need, the need to trace every plane of your skin and map you with his lips. When you lay down his breath catches in his throat, your hand disappearing between your legs has him groaning softly from just beyond the windowpane.

Self pleasure as some divine ritual with him as the figure observing the rite, breathless at every expression you make while your fingers play with your pussy until you're cumming and your lips part. He hopes his name will be the prayer that completes the sacrament, that one day he'll be lapping up your arousal to drip like wine down his throat instead of feeling himself spill into his own hands outside the confines of your home.

Still, Satoru finds your most convenient quality is that you don't possess much situational awareness. You never notice the aquamarine eyes peering into your window, nor the second shadow that follows you down streets. He's abundantly thankful you've never noticed a presence in your home: the one that switches on a second alarm so you're never over sleeping, or how many pairs of your underwear have been stuffed into his pockets, and have never woken to his lips ghosting over your forehead as you rest.

The feeling you give him is like when swallowing a shot of tequila, the straight burn up and down the throat and the accompanied warmth that spreads in the cheeks and chest. He almost giggles as he traces a finger along the bridge of your nose in the hazy dark of your bedroom, a lovesick smile on his face.

Getting you here hadn't been a big task at all, it's jarring how open to suggestion you are when you're drunk. It was easy, with smooth words and his natural overconfident air, to make you believe in a matter of seconds that of course he knew the friends that had left you at the bar. Of course, he'd been there all along, you must not have noticed silly girl. You were so cheery getting into his car, so open and gregarious. All too happy to have the convenient ride home.

"Have we met before?"

The question had stopped him dead, it felt like the second an airplane cockpit experiences violent decompression: all air sucked out and the flight left doomed.

That is, until he turned at the red light to see you drunkenly ogling him. Your eyes, even unfocused from the booze, didn't fail to notice that he was tall, well built, nor did it escape him the way you looked a second too long at his crotch and thighs. It made him feel like a blushy teenager again, the magic of you.

"Hm, maybe here or there," he said noncommittally, after all he had to keep up appearances as a mutual friend.

"Well, I'd remember someone as gorgeous as you," you giggle, clearly feeling the liquid courage blooming inside your head. Fortunate that it also blotted out your memory of seeing him at the coffee shop in the very beginning.

It was adorable, Satoru swears he's never seen anything on this earth as whimsically beautiful as you.

After a bit of flirtatious banter coupled with the drive lulling you into a drunken stupor he gets you right where he wants you: hanging off his arm like he's all that kept you standing as he guided you to your house. Luckily you never stopped to ask how he knew where your house was to begin with.

His lips find yours as soon as he walks you into your bedroom, the tang of leftover liquor on your tongue does nothing to dampen how sugary you taste. It made his head spin, cradling you in his arms and keeping you so firmly pressed against himself it was as if he were trying to merge you two completely.

You'd been just as starved, fingers winding through his ghost white hair and it had made his brain short out- touching you so freely was something he'd only fantasized about for the last six months, only allowing himself the barest of touches when he would slip into your already familiar bedroom, and this time there was no anxiety fizzing on the edges of his mind.

"Satoru," you'd sighed against his lips, nuzzling your nose to his while his saliva glistened on your lips. You'd pressed back into him, hands roaming his muscled back as he pressed sloppy, open mouth kisses to your throat. Your voice had been so low with lust it made him hard instantly, straining against his pants.

Visions danced across his mind, the way you'd sound beneath him, the way your ass would feel in his hands, what it would feel like to grope your chest and finally, finally be inside you, making you squeeze around his cock and cum until you're braindead. It was all right there, you were right there for the taking.

"Please just fuck me," you whined against his cheek and he could've cum before you finished speaking. Its the four words he ached to hear, they made him groan against your bruised skin as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to snake upwards, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

Desperation practically bled from his hands as he pushed you down onto the bed, grinning wildly climbing over you, his tongue sliding across yours as he tugged down your pants and underwear, yanked up your top and nearly ripped the bra from your chest.

You'd yelped into his mouth, clearly hadn't anticipated his movements to mimic those of an over eager animal tearing into prey. It hadn't deterred you though, hunger the constant note in all of the frantic little movements of your hands and the way your lips moved against his, all teeth and spit. He only reluctantly broke the kiss to yank his own shirt off, biting your bottom lip a little too hard in the process.

"You don't know how fuckin' hard you make me," he'd groaned leaning back over you, biting and sucking along the tops of your breasts, "How badly I've wanted you."

You were too overloaded by lust and liquor to catch exactly what he'd said, reaching for the waistband of his pants before palming his cock through the material. To him it was downright romantic and he'd made no move to stop you as you worked them open, wriggling them down with his boxers enough to let his cock spring free in your grasp.

Being that hard was painful, almost heart attack inducing. Your glossy eyes had widened, lips parting cutely in surprise as you'd taken in the way he was flushed pink with precum oozing from the tip to smear onto your fingers.

"You're massive," you'd mumbled, an adrenaline shot to his ego like no other. He'd even throbbed in your grip at your words.

His lips met yours in another tidal wave of desire, moaning into your mouth as you stroked him while his fingers frantically dipped down to spread your slick folds, rubbing circles around your clit to make you gasp and arch your back. So caught up in it you hadn't even heard what he whispered against your lips.

"You're even better than I thought you'd be."

His fingers became coated in arousal as he flooded you with the plush feeling of pleasure, his tongue exploring your mouth so thoroughly it was as if he'd been committing the map of it to memory. The way you stroked his cock had him impatient, rutting into your hand and whining each time your thumb would rub against his swollen tip.

"I need to fuck you," he whined in a daze, sounding almost close to tears, hips aching and eyes taking on a fishbowl perspective towards the string of spit connecting your mouths.

You rubbed his thigh, hand slowing its motions on his shaft. "Please-"

The word barely escaped your lips before he was gently replacing your hand with his own, sliding between your folds and encouraging you to hold your legs by the back of your thighs as he nudged at your entrance. "So beautiful," he choked out watching the way his cock disappeared inside your pussy, your walls constricting around him in a steady, massaging rhythm.

He'd had to focus hard on his own breathing to make sure he didn't cum inside you right then. "Gonna treat you so well, I promise-" the bite of your nails against his shoulders made him wince, but he'd take any pain so long as it came from your hands.

Pressing your chests flush together, his pubic bone grinding against your clit, his rhythm slow and deep as he'd pressed his forehead to yours and let himself become unmoored in your lust blown eyes, a willing drowning victim.

It was all he's wanted, and he never wanted it to end.

To him heaven is just a word, the real thing lives inside you, taking form in the way your pussy clenches around him, the way you moan and toss your head back into the mattress, the way the moonlight from the window plays across your skin and makes you look otherworldly beneath him.

You whined his name, hips rising up to meet his thrusts as you rubbed your clit and your eyes rolled back while Satoru had wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard and scraping with his teeth just to hear you yelp and feel you claw at his skin again.

What no one realizes about him is the longing for pain, both giving and receiving. What you don't know specifically is that there's nothing that can give him that, nothing he would allow except you. What could be more devotional than that, in his mind?

Its what makes him pause, ignoring your whines as he slips out in fact nearly ignoring you altogether, drunk off your body and a fervor that grips his mind like madness. The desire to both give and receive, all things in balance. He guides you to turn over, roughly pushing your ass up and forcing your head down into the duvet.

His mind had been entirely clouded, too focused on needing to see your soaked cunt greedily swallow him whole. It was mesmerizing, both the sight and the way your body grips him like it'll never let go again while the mess of slick against your inner thighs glints in the moonlight. Starved and desperate he fucked you without care, fingers digging into your hips and ass so hard bruises would stain your skin like watercolors, showing the exact position on his fingers come morning.

"I'm gonna make you cum, angel, all over my cock," he panted through rough, recklessly deep thrusts. He leaned down so one hand could fist in your hair, a cruel grip that had you crying out in pain. It was a sickening sort of thrill that overtook him watching your hands flail blindly above your head before scratching and gripping at his hand.

Now it's you who knows what it's like to be caught in the snare.

"Stop! It hurts!" You'd sobbed out, but he was beyond the point of stopping, beyond the point of reason. He did make an effort to placate you, pressing you down into prone bone flat to the bed and leaving messy kisses on the back on your neck but it was in the distinct tone of forgiveness.

You don't hold out much longer, sobbing and nearly wailing as your abused cunt spasmed around his throbbing length, liquid dripping down from the base of his cock to smear against his and your thighs as he fucked you through it before being unable to last against the onslaught of your pulsing walls, burying himself inside you and filling you up with hot, sticky spurts of cum.

He'd stayed pressed against you, laying on top of you for a while, simply listening to your sniffles as he fiddled with your hair. Really Satoru was loath to pull out of you, pull away from you.

Every silent pass of his fingers against your skin was an apology, and eventually those teary sniffles had subsided into even, deep breaths as sleep closed it's fingers around you instead.

So the moment had passed, the rope cut so that the rabbit might yet run out of sight, it's heart pounding and leg twinging in pain.

He'd been lost in reliving it already, coming back to himself and placing a chaste kiss to your lips as he tugged his shirt back on and made sure you were in a comfortable position beneath the duvet he'd tucked you into.

Of course he'd also taken a moment to unlock your phone with your index finger, installing just a tiny little program that would allow him to get copies of all your phone activity.

One last kiss to your temple before he slips out the door, down the hallway, and back into his car.

One last silent query of forgiveness.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

nonnie asked: CHILDE NSFW HC HAND EM OVER DARLING PRETTY PLZ

pairing: childe x gn! reader

warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, mention of various kinks etc

this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!

genshin impact masterlist

If it’s possible to be on both ends of the masochist/sadist spectrum at the same time at any given time, Childe is; while it absolutely gets him going to tease you and rile you up, he’s not afraid of a little pain himself; quite the opposite actually, a slight sting thrills him.

Speaking of thrill, while Childe is more on the dominant side, please challenge him for the position; he appreciates the fight and nothing boosts his ego more than making you submit after a struggle.

Playing into his sadistic nature, seeing fat tears roll down your cheeks sends chills down his spine; the sight of your watery eyes, either from pleasure or frustration, will make him coo at you (it’s all faux empathy, he’ll continue to be just as mean).

And what better way to make you tear up than making you gag around his girth? Childe’s line of work is exhausting, so having a darling partner to come home to gets him through the day. Especially if you sink to your knees in front of him and let him use your throat as he pleases.

In general, taking out his frustrations on you is not an uncommon occurrence. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he returns to you and that’s about as much explanation you get before he manhandles you into whatever position he wants, his fingers tangled in your hair, and turns your brain to mush with rough thrusts (with prior consent ofc ♡).

On the flip side, Childe can be the softest, sappiest lover in all of Teyvat. He’s worshipping your body like it’s the most divine temple, his ocean blue eyes swirling with adoration and love. When he gets like this, he’s almost like a big puppy in needing to be close to you, not letting you go for longer than he needs to.

Childe can’t help it, he can’t stop imagining starting a family with you, doesn’t matter if it’s physically impossible for you to have children of your own or if you’re currently not planning to have them. It doesn’t hurt to dream as he fills you up to the brim, watching as his cum leaks from your twitching hole after he pulls out.

While he’ll have you any way possible, his favourite positions are taking you from behind, folding you into a mating press or watching you ride him, depending on the mood. Each angle has its own charm and Childe wouldn’t want to miss a single one.

When it comes to location, obviously no place in your shared home is safe (seriously, the sheets, the shower tiles and the kitchen counter have seen things and so have you when it’s reflected back at you from a mirror), but much like in battle, Childe is an insatiable risk taker. Whether it’s in an alleyway or under the table of a fancy restaurant, the guy can hardly keep his fingers off- or out- of you.

But unfair as he might be in the bedroom, he does not only take, oh no. In fact, he might enjoy giving oral so much so it almost becomes taking again. This man can eat you out for hours if he so pleases and you almost have to beg him to stop when he’s in one of his moods. Also, please sit on his face, he wants his face to be framed by your thighs! And don’t worry about suffocating him, if it comes that far the lack of oxygen only adds to the thrill of it all.

Thanks to his work and rigorous training, Childe’s stamina is through the roof. Chances are, your legs will be trembling and sore before he even feels a ghost of fatigue, thrusts as hard and voice as steady as at the beginning of your little session. On the same note, his recovery period is frighteningly short as well (or maybe he’s just a horndog :P).

Although, even for a man like him, not every moment is filled with excitement and wild abandon. He knows to savour the finer things in life and that includes you. So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that he enjoys having you cockwarm him as you talk about your days or he files away paperwork. There’s something comforting about feeling your warmth wrapped around him that calms him as he peppers kisses wherever he can.

Then again, you can never quite anticipate what Childe has planned for you next. Is he going to render your legs useless by giving you as many orgasms as you can possibly take, testing your limits every time? Or is going to laugh cruelly at the sobs spilling over your lips as he ruins your high again?

One thing’s for sure, he won’t ever shut up. And you don’t want him to, so it works out in your favour. Even while talking though, his honeyed words never come without being laced in a little poison. Whether he’s spouting the filthiest fantasies and tagging on a sweet name or drawing you in with charming words just to make your face heat up in embarrassment when he calls you out, praise and degradation never stray too far from one another with Childe.

This is especially strong towards the beginning of your relationship but if you have a somewhat innocent appeal, Childe would love to corrupt you. There’s something carnal within him that goes feral at the thought of ruining your pure self and tainting you (even if you’re not all that innocent, the thought is still very appealing to him).

Playing into that, perhaps think about letting him peel away some lacy white lingerie and watch his pupils dilate like a predator’s. But it’s not just white; Childe’s not incredibly picky with which garments he gets to rip off of you (don’t worry, he’ll buy you plenty more), the notion that you dressed up for him riling him up far too much to think clearly about it. Although he does make it a point to convey just how beautiful you look, either through words or actions or both.

But, in Childe’s eyes, every piece of delicate lingerie is infinitely more attractive when it shows off the marks he left on you previously. While he’s not overly jealous, he might be just a tad bit possessive, but really only a smidge. Seeing red and purple hues decorate your neck, chest, hips and thighs though is a sure fire way to land you some new ones…

Just as he can buy you an entire wardrobe of lingerie, Childe has money to throw at toys as well. You might think he would not resort to using them but that’s were you’d be wrong; he thinks they’re quite a lot of fun actually, especially when he can use them to toy with you. From teasing you to helping stretch you out, you best believe he will dedicate his time to studying the best way to make you see stars. Truly, the greatest toy buyer in Snezhnaya… (sorry, couldn’t help myself hshsh)

Last but not least, Childe has a raging size kink. Whether he’s actually physically towering over you or not, he’ll definitely impose his presence on you, crowding you against the mattress, manhandling you with so much ease you might as well be a doll. If you’re ever whimpering about him being too big and not being able to take him, you’re basically begging to have your brain fucked out.

Speaking of size… if you’re up for a challenge (and are a monsterfucker), Foul Legacy! Childe might just come out to play. From his inhumanly long tongue to the significant growth in both length and size, he’ll hardly leave you wanting. And even if that’s still not enough, is one really the limit…?

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

[yanderecrazysie]

You Are Beneath Me (Sintember) Kaminari Denki

As always, all characters are 18+. This is inspired by this one Monoma fic that I can no longer find- here’s hoping it wasn’t deleted.

Prompt: You Are Beneath Me for @sintember

Pairings: Kaminari Denki x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, NSFW, NON-CON, spitting, slut-shaming, Kaminari is NOT nice in this

“How does the boot taste?”

He was in his hero costume, but he was nothing like a hero. To you, he was a villain, through-and-through.

“Aww look at the poor baby- too weak to fight back, no wonder you dropped out of the hero course in your first year,” Kaminari snickered above you, his black shoe pinning the side of your face into the wooden flooring.

He was right- you couldn’t even begin to fight back. That, or you’d given up by now. You knew what was coming. It was the same every night that he broke into your apartment.

“Your nightgown is so cute,” Kaminari cooed, “I can’t wait to rip it off you.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed.

“Yeah, I’ll get to that in a minute.”

Kaminari leaned down and pulled a pocket knife out of his right pocket. You heard the tearing of fabric and shut your eyes tightly. Another article of clothing, ripped to shreds. Not the first time by a long shot.

“You’re soaking through your panties,” Kaminari snickered, “And you act like you don’t want me. What a slut.”

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter, wishing you could cover your ears and block out the insults.

Kaminari removed his foot from your face, ripping off the torn nightgown and leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You are beneath me, just a cumdump for me to use whenever I want.”

You spat into his face, but he just laughed at the spit rolling down his cheek, “So feisty- I love it.”

He wrestled you into position- head down, hips up- and used the useless nightgown to tie your wrists in place. He knew from experience that you’d claw his face off if you had the chance.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it down and off, pocketing it for later use. 

“You’re so lucky that I love you- with what a slut you are, guys should be lining up to fuck you. Instead, it’s just me.”

You rolled your eyes. There he went again, babbling on about how he “loved” you. What bullshit. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t hurt you and humiliate you.

But Kaminari did love you, in his own twisted way. His own obsessive, possessive way. And now that you were laid bare beneath him, he was ready to make sure you understood that fact.

His arousal only grew as you began to sling curses at him. He wasn’t sure if he was a sadist or masochist or both, just that he loved everything you gave him and everything he took from you.

His drooling, aching cock prodded at your entrance and you fell silent. This was going to happen to you no matter what you said. Just like it always did.

Kaminari pushed into you with little warning, groaning at how your velvety walls hugged his cock, “Fuck- you’re so tight-”

You were warm and wet, and that was all he needed to pound you into the floor. His cock was long enough to hit your cervix with every thrust. You laid there, refusing to open your mouth (you knew you’d moan if you did), but Kaminari wasn’t bothered by your lack of participation.

You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching as he began to hit that delicious spot. He flashed a toothy grin at you, feeling the way your walls pulsed around him, “Getting close, slut?”

You turned your head away, ashamed tears filling your eyes. You could no longer stop the moans from slipping from your mouth. Egged on, Kaminari thrust harder and harder, groans slipping from his own mouth.

Your orgasm crashed into you at full force, tearing a near-scream from you. Feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing cock, Kaminari pulled out immediately, leaving you keeling, and released his load over your lower back. Shot after shot of sticky cum painted your skin and, finally, the tears began to fall.

Kaminari gave your ass a slap and laughed, “What a crybaby cumdump.” He began to pull his pants up (he’d never even taken off his shirt), and walked over to your window, raising it up and getting ready to disappear into the night.

He turned back to you, almost apologetically, and said, “You know I love you, right?”

You let out a sob.