#the dominator guns are so cool

[imaturtleturtle]

“In a world that quantifies and polices mind state and personality tendency, psycho pass is what measures the soul”

[rainbowangel110]

OH MY GOSH!!!

Mob In The Woods…2!

bonus sketches under the cut:

Keep reading

[inkydavinky]

Doea anyone want to be my mech arena sugar daddy 🥺🥺🥺

Im really good i swear, ill stream just buy me a coins for pretty skins and pilots 🥺

[poisonf0rest]

iicyify

♱⋅── sylus x reader x zayne (soon)

♱⋅── synopsis: Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. You’re dispatched on a mission to capture a fugitive in Linkon City's forbidden N109 Zone, but of course old ghosts come back to haunt you, and this time you’re unable to resist the pull of your twisted connection. AKA the enemies to lovers aphrodisiac fic.

♱⋅── tags READ CAREFULLY: mdni, smut, semi non-con (aphrodisiac), bondage, semi-public sex, heavy enemies to lovers I don't play around with that shit, breeding, there’s sharp objects used in inappropriate ways, blood kink probably, again please mind the tags

♱⋅── word count: 8.5K

♱⋅── art: @/Shanyi708944594

Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2, a bad omen if you’ve ever heard one. 

The low strum of the cello jumps to life as you enter the ball, each sting echoing from the marble arches to the dance floor, the gentle strum of the accompanying violins muffled by the floor-to-ceiling curtains. 

She’s a deceiving song, breaking traditional waltz rules with her three-fourth tempo, the two cellos battling for dominance as their battle song announces your unplanned arrival. 

Your heels click in time to the emerging saxophone, and you disappear into the crowd. Unfortunately, you don't have the liberty of indulging yourself in music tonight. Tonight, you have a job. 

The Hunter's Association only gave you a name- Kovi Rochelle. Who were you to ask questions? It's far from the first time you've snuck into the N109 Zone, and as you scan the crowd, you make mental notes of all you recognize. On the ballroom floor is an heiress to an illicit firearms company, and her dance companion is the right-hand man to a minor gang. Near the orchestra are a few faces you recognize from a drug syndicate, and near the disgustingly lavish food no one was foolish enough to touch was the daughter of an oil tycoon. 

No sign of a certain crow, you note, narrowing your eyes. No sign of your target either.

It takes you longer than you would have liked to find Kovi, but you find a man fitting his description well enough in a far corner of the hall, face twisted into a crooked leer as he's saying something inaudible over the orchestra to a waitress. Sixties, full beard, crooked nose and a penchant for younger girls. 

Your hand slips against your thigh, closer to where the burn of cool metal rests hidden beneath the silk of your dress.

The waltz is nearly over, and just as cellos reach their climax, you feel a hand snatch your own.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you, sweetie."

Your body goes rigid, but the hand pulling you into a twirl is vicious and the fanged smile that follows even more so. 

The urge to pull your gun is tempered only by years of Hunter experience. That, and the simple fact that should you fail to retrieve this target, the Association would punish you ten-fold. 

So you meet Sylus’s blood-red gaze with a deathly sweet smile, baring your teeth. “How disappointing, so you’re immune to poisons too. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” You try to keep the irritation out of your voice, but his lips curl, showing off his misaligned fangs with all the kindness of a hungry dog. 

“I certainly hope you do. Despite not being able to die, it’s certainly no fun to writhe around in pain for several hours.” Sylus grabs your jaw, causing you to stumble forward as he forces your chin up, hot tongue raking up the side of your neck as you hiss. “Tetrodotoxin? Addictive.”

“Disgusting bastard.” He saw through you yet again. 

Sylus laughs, a deep, loud chuckle that catches other guests’ attention before you nearly claw his face to shut him up. Your hand only makes it halfway, impact broken when he grabs your wrist instead, tightening to the point of pain. 

But you're now too close to the dance floor to refuse without drawing any more unwanted attention, so you place your hand against his shoulder before digging your nails in through the expensive silk of his blazer. You hope he bleeds. 

Nothing good would come from it, but gods, would it taste sweet.

Something flashes in the depths of his unnaturally red eye, and Sylus chuckles to himself before sliding his fingers from your wrist into your palm, taking your hand to lead you in a slow, calculated turn. You watch his eyes dilate in predatory satisfaction at the bruises left against your wrist. 

"If you’re truly humoring me with a dance, then I take it you haven't taken out your target either."

So he knows your objective. You stare up at Sylus directly, nearly crushing his foot with your heel when the tempo jumps again, speeding up with the shrill of the violins. "Tonight are you my ally or enemy?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Your eyes narrow, but his words are far too cryptic to give away the truth. Instead, you focus on the rhythm of the song, the sound of your heels, and the steady heartbeat of Sylus' chest as it beats against your own.

"I must say though, I wish you applied this distraction tactic on me when we first met." His hand strays from its spot on your waist, palm searing into your back as he traces up and down your exposed spine, giving a possessive squeeze to your ass. "After all, how could any man stay weary with utter temptation walking around?"

You grit your teeth, purposefully stepping forward out of tune to press the bulge of your gun against Sylus's thigh. "I swear I’ll kill you."

For Caleb. For your grandmother. For your own god-damn sanity.

His fanged smile widens, and he leans in close, whispering against the shell of your ear, “Oh yes, how I love to watch you try. Got closer last time, didn’t you?” And he spins you away, violently turning you again and again until you have no choice but to rely on his arm lest you fall. 

As your mind spins all your prior attempts get flung back at you, from poisoning him through wine to stabbing him in his sleep, Sylus’ body was damn near immortal. More infuriating still, he only goads you further after every attempted assassination, fighting you unconscious and leaving you in Linkon City with only a crow feather and letter detailing all the points of failure from your latest attempt.

A final spin, and the world blurs. Sylus pulls you back with a force that makes you stumble, and he dips you with a chuckle. "I must say, I've never had such a passionate lover." 

By the time the chorus ends, Sylus pulls you back into his arms, dipping you as you gasp against his chest, head spinning and blood rushing furiously to your head. But the song is far from over, and you intend to get more information out of the man before he disappears once more. If he comes between you and your target…

Sylus' gaze is unreadable as you look up, and his hand tightens on your waist, guiding you into a steady tempo once again. A blur of other dancers swing by, but the only thing you can focus on now is the man before you, staring right past your rotted soul with those blood-red eyes. Eyes of a sinner. Of a mistake. Just like you.

"A little birdie told me that someone here is in possession of an Aether Core." He taunts, spinning you so your back is to his chest. "Admit to yourself what it is you’re really after, and I'll give it to you, sweetie. All you have to do is say the word."

Your lips part in surprise, and Sylus grins, pulling you closer so he can whisper in your ear. "I don’t mind being used by you. After all, I want to use you too. All you have to do is say yes."

You’re surrounded by him, a mixture of spice and cologne, and can see the way his ashen hair falls over his forehead, and the way his lips are pared just slightly as you pull him in closer by the nape of his neck. He led you to the protocore last time. He killed your family. He saved you. He's the reason everything you loved is gone.

Your lips skim up his neck, and you smile as you feel Sylus tense in the midst of the waltz as you give him your answer. "Fuck you."

He’s frozen for a beat before breaking into another laugh. "Only if you wish. I doubt your doctor friend would be too keen on the idea though."

Your breath hitches, eyes wide, but Sylus' laughter only grows. The waltz is coming to a close, and in one smooth motion, Sylus releases his hold on your waist, only to grab your hand and bring it to his lips.

"Until next time, sweetie." He places a kiss to the back of your hand and disappears as the cellos strum their final chord. “As much as I’d love to stay and listen to my little kitten hiss some more, I’m unfortunately running late for my appointment. And I believe you are too.”

And as quickly as he had stolen you away, he's gone, and you're left with the sound of your heart hammering in your ears and the coldness of his absence.

"Tch, damn it." You curse, glancing around the room for any sign of the waitress and your target.

Kovi and the potential Aether Core Sylus told you about might still be in the ballroom. But you don't have time to find both. Not when Sylus knows who you're after. Not if he realizes why the Association needs you to bring back Kovi alive. 

Your gaze flickers across the crowd, but the man is nowhere in sight. The orchestra has already begun their next song, and a few waiters have already begun moving in with the next round of food and drink, and while most people are caught up in the music, your gaze is locked on a familiar waitress struggling with a tray of drinks and a woman dressed in black, dragging her back into the server's hall.

You don't have time to decide. You rush after them, slipping past another waiter and ducking around a group of gossiping socialites. The door leading to the back of the mansion slams behind the women, and you push it open, stepping inside the dark corridor.

"Come on, the boss said to leave him there!"

"But that bitch-!"

"It's a lost cause."

"Let's just go. He'll be dead soon anyways."

You wait until the footsteps have faded and the doors close behind them before slowly standing, taking off your heels, and slipping your gun out from its holster, metal cold against smooth silk.

There are four doors along the corridor, three to the left, one at the very end, and all are locked. You check each one, but only the last has any signs of movement. It's a small door, the size of an office closet, and when you press your ear to the wood, you can hear the sound of voices.

"We're in the last round of betting. I assume you're ready to finally make a decision, Mr. Sylus?" Fuck. That’s Kovi’s voice.

"What if I want to raise the stakes?"

A bang. "The key to these games, boy, is knowing when to quit."

"I always like to put everything on the line. Besides, it's hard to gamble with something that isn't yours."

"Oh no, she's mine alright. Paid quite a hefty price for her, you of all people should know that." A muffled set of insults, punctuated by a deep set of laughter that has your blood running cold. "White wolf of Onychinus, figured you'd be more impressive."

There’s a distinct click of a trigger and the scramble of chairs being kicked over. "All in." And then, the sound of a gunshot.

Your instincts kick in and you slam into the door, shoulder burning in protest. It's hollow, thank god, and you have enough sense to duck as a set of bullets fire, ripping the door into a thousand splinters. 

Sylus' face is twisted in a snarl, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, and a woman in a waiter's uniform lying at his feet. Her body is still convulsing, a set of bullet wounds in her chest, and you realize it's the woman from before, the one who was with the other waitress. 

And your target.

Kovi was slumped against a plush leather chair, bleeding out onto an unfinished poker game, soaking through cards and chips from the gushing set of bullet wounds buried in his brain.

"You killed him," you hiss, and Sylus only raises a brow, watching as you step over the woman and walk over to the other body slumped in the corner. "He was alive, you bastard. And you shot him."

"He was a traitor."

"Not to me." You hiss, and the click of your pistol echoes, pointing it straight at Sylus. "I needed him alive, and you knew it."

He looks unperturbed, and you can only glare when he smiles, shrugs, and steps closer to your gun, metal kissing bare flesh. You don’t so much as flinch, not even as his smile turns wolfish, scanning you up and down before settling on your weapon once again. "And I'm supposed to care?"

You pull the trigger.

The bullet shoots through where his heart would have been, but Sylus is already mid-lunge, twisting your wrist sideways. The shot goes wide. His jabs are precise, punching against the tender inside of your wrist and elbow before shoving you against the wall, the entire room rattling on impact, a mirror falling as it shatters.

"If the Association wanted him alive, then perhaps they should have sent someone else," He taunts.

Death haunts you like a vengeful lover. Sylus knows this well.

You twist, still holding onto your gun, but Sylus only presses his body closer, using his monstrous height to his advantage, tightening until your arms are going numb. 

The look in his eyes is knowing, and Sylus scoffs down at you. “But he’s not why you came here, is it?”

You stop struggling.

His right eye glows that sickly red once more, and you straighten against his hold, jabbing your chin up as you meet his gaze. You know he’s digging around your mind again, and so you spit out the truth. “Where’s the core?”

“So she admits it. Here, it’s all yours." Sylus says and reaches into his coat. He pulls out a small, blood-soaked stone and drops it at your feet, and you can't help but stare, noticing a moment too late as your gaze snaps back up to meet his.

“What? You want it, don't you?" Sylus whispers, and his fingers trailing up your sides, pushing your dress up. You thrash against him, and his other hand wraps around your throat. "Then take it."

You kick and scratch and hiss, a vicious distraction all while tightening the grip on your gun.

"Come on, sweetheart. I know you can do better than that."

A gunshot cuts off his sentence. 

Sylus falls to his knee with a groan, bullet traveling clean through his thigh. It's not enough to kill him, you know it, but he'll heal in a matter of seconds, so you take your aim against his heart instead, pressing the muzzle of the gun into his chest. The heat from the metal sears into Sylus' flesh, and as you force the gun closer as you yank his head up by the hair, rewarded with a loud moan as Sylus rolls his eyes back at the pain.

"You can't kill me."

"No," you whisper, pulling him close, "but I can hurt you."

His grin only widens, a bloody gash curling across his face as he stares up at you. “Such arrogance.”

Sylus leans into your touch, and then a hand covers your own on the gun, fingers laced around the trigger.

"What are you waiting for? Do it, I want to feel it, I want you to finish it." His words are low and you feel a rush of adrenaline at finally having him at your mercy, of having him at the brink of death. 

He yanks the gun closer, and thus you as well, looking up into your eyes with a sick devotion only a sinner could have. 

But you’ve learned from last time. So you curl your finger, and pull the trigger. 

The bullet never reaches. 

A web of dark energy stops it mere centimeters from Sylus' chest, and he sends it ricocheting back so it speeds by your collarbone and neck with a furious red trail.

You don't have enough time to scream.

Sylus pulls you down alongside him and slams your body against the ground, skull rattling against the marble. You scramble to your hands before he shoves you back to the floor with his palm, pinning you beneath him and pressing his lips to the fresh wound on your neck.

"You taste divine." Sylus hisses, and he sucks against the wound as your blood runs down his chin, grabbing your wrists until something snaps and you drop the gun with a scream. It skirts across the floor, out of reach.

You buck under his weight, kicking your legs out until one digs into the bullet wound still closing on his thigh, fresh blood streaming down the both of you as he licks and sucks and bites against your neck, leaving a trail of raw marks and bruises. 

With your free wrist, you unsheathe your dagger, driving it into Sylus’ neck. Dark tendrils of energy catch the blade, but your fury burns hotter, and you grant him a twin scar, slicing from the hollow of his collarbone up his neck.

Sylus moans, a strangled, guttural sound that goes straight between your thighs. You can see the muscle and skin knitting back together, the tendrils of shadows seeping out from his flesh and sealing the wound shut. But his grip on you remains.

You're both panting, blood dripping down your neck and Sylus' chest, but his eyes are dark and full of promise that makes your stomach twist.

"Do it again," he hisses, and he presses his hips into yours, letting you feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. "Cut me. Stab me. Kill me. All you have to do is try, sweetheart. Make it good this time, will you?"

You are not a fool. You know this is a challenge, a taunt, but you also know you can't back down.

So you push yourself up, knife glinting under the dim lights as you sink the blade into Sylus' throat, dragging a ragged line from one side to the other. Blood pours over his chest, drenching his shirt, and you can't help but watch in morbid fascination as the skin begins to knit itself back together, muscle and flesh growing and closing up, tendrils of dark energy wrapping and sealing the wound.

You almost want to lean in to taste it yourself.

Sylus makes a strangled sound from against your neck, still licking up your blood as you dig your nails into his fresh wound, pressing closer and closer still. Closer than flesh and blood would allow, bloody and raw and angry. 

His tendrils of energy wrap around your throat just as your knife presses up against his, both of you panting heavily. “When will you admit it? From your past to your future, to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. You and I… we're made of the same sin.”

You twist to the side, unable to meet his glowing eye, and Sylus smiles, blood-stained and fanged.

“Look at me.” He growls, and his fingers wrap around your jaw, forcing you to look up, nose brushing his. The glow of his right eye is nearly blinding, a mixture of gold and red and orange that swirl together like fire.

Fire, corruption, and the same damned soul.

They flash before you. The faces of every soul you’ve taken, every mission you’ve accepted from the Association, every trophy you’ve never cried over that has granted you nothing but pride and misery. 

And then flashes of your family, burning alive in the explosion that the demon before you set off. Burning flesh, screaming, the smell of sulfur. 

You see the face of a man too good for you. Practical and cold, but so unfairly kind and selfless it makes your chest ache. Zayne.

Not that Zayne is yours, not in any measurable way. But he’s the man that is so perfectly beyond your reach that it gives you a semblance of hope for change, for atonement. He’s the man that you’ve decided to foolishly love until your last breath.

Worst of all, you know Sylus can see him now too.

Another flash of red. Sylus, staring down at you, his smile a cruel imitation of Zayne's.

"What do you want, little dove?"

"My revenge."

He smiles, and leans in, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh there. "I could give it to you. Everything you’ve ever wanted."

His touch burns, and you shudder, a mix of emotions twisting your gut. Fear, anger, desperation.

“I no longer want.” You hiss. “So stay out-” you gasp, reality and memory flickering together. “of-” you thrust the knife upwards, stabbing wildly until something connects. “-my fucking head!”

It's only when you hear the sickening crunch of flesh and the feel of blood pouring down your arm that you realize where you are. The memory of Zayne is gone, replaced by the present.

Sylus.

His eyes are wide, mouth agape and blood dripping down his chin. Your knife is buried deep in his palm, blade caught in his hand mere inches from his skull. Your vision blurs and the world spins, and the last thing you see is the sight of Sylus smiling, blood running down his cheek and his eye burning a brilliant, golden red.

And then the world bursts into smoke.

You feel it before you understand what has happened.

Throwing your hands above your head, you brace for an explosion or flash that never comes, the room blanketed by a cloud of thick smog that has your head spinning. A weight crushes you, and for a moment you think the ceiling caved until you realize it was Sylus who must have flung himself atop you at the moment of impact.

You think there’s an earthquake or aftershocks of another attack when you see your hand trembling, realizing it’s just your entire body convulsing against the floor as you inhale mouthfuls of the thick, cloying smoke. It tastes sticky and sweet at the back of your throat, cloying against your tongue and crawling under your skin. You think you might be dying. 

Sylus is faring no better, chest heaving as he nearly falls atop you, barely holding himself up on his forearms. His mouth is a bloody mess, there's a gash on his forehead that refused to heal. The energy of his Evol leaks from him in a thick mist of dark matter that seeps in and out of his sweat-slicked flesh. He’s losing control of his power.

“What the fuck—“ a violent heat rips surges down your spine, a choked gasp seizing your lungs as you feel bursts of energy heat under your skin- your Evol’s power fluctuating wildly. The once familiar power now feels like a toxin, your very core vibrating, practically a bomb seconds away from detonating.

It wasn’t a shock grenade. Not smoke. Poison? Your vision is swimming, but Sylus is still holding you, and when you freeze his entire body convulses in laughter as you seem to finally piece together what has happened.

"An aphrodisiac. They're... those fucking bastards." You can’t even see where your gun is, the entire room lurching sideways as you try and crawl out from under Sylus.

But as soon as you knee him in the side trying to topple him over, you both freeze at the contact, the brush of bare skin enough to have you keening.

Sylus groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You can feel him shaking, every bulging muscle tensed beneath his torn clothes, and his lips press against your pulse, teeth sinking into the delicate skin there. Shadowy tendrils grow from his back, a spiderweb of raw power that he seems to have no control over as they piece into the ground with enough force to crack through marble. You flinch at the sight.

“Are you scared, little dove?” Like a spider’s legs, they support him as he staggers to his knees, caging you in against the floor. A moth in a web. “Perhaps you finally should be.”

He grabs you by the hair, tilting your head back so you have to look him in the eyes. You struggle to move, to push him off, but the mere touch only seems to rile the man above you. He groans, the sound low and guttural, and when you finally meet his gaze, his eye is a wild, glowing red, and he's looking at you like he wants to devour you.

A demon. You’re laying before a demon. 

"What's wrong, sweetie? Too proud to give in?" He taunts.

"Not to you," you hiss, and you grab him by the collar, pulling him closer. "You're not even worth it."

Sylus' smile widens. "Still lying to yourself, aren’t you?"

Your skin burns, his touch leaving a trail of fire and desire. You can feel the aphrodisiac pulsing through your veins, a violent, angry heat that consumes everything it touches.

"Allow me to offer you a deal, then." Sylus' mouth twists in a snarl, and you feel his hands grip your waist. His nails dig into the exposed skin of your lower back, and Sylus pulls you closer, pressing his erection against your ass. "Run," he whispers, and his lips brush the shell of your ear. "Run as fast as you fucking can, because if I catch you I fuck you."

He pulls away, eye still glowing, turning into little more than a shadowed silhouette that towers over you. "And I won't be as gentle as your little boyfriend."

You don't remember when you start running.

 One moment, Sylus is in front of you, a wicked, predatory smile curling across his face. And the next, he's gone, the sound of footsteps fading behind you and the smell of gunpowder and blood hanging heavy in the air.

He's close.

You can feel his power, feel the way the aphrodisiac has corrupted him. Every tendril of energy from his body feels like a physical thing, a thread of pure energy and darkness. You hear his breathing, the sound of his body slamming against the walls and the doors as he gives chase.

Somehow the aphrodisiac did more than just make his Evol stronger, Sylus himself seemed fundamentally changed. Stalking you in a half-limp like a predator enjoying the hunt, every muscle tensed underneath his fitted suit as though waiting for you to make a run for it. Waiting to finally pounce. 

In the end it never mattered how strong you were. What stood before you was no man, but a monster.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you got, kitten? Come on, run faster, make it fun for me.”

Your heart leaps in your throat. Every inch of your body is alert, hyperaware of his echoing footsteps, following you no matter how many turns you take, no matter which stairs you climb, utterly unsure if you’re running closer or further from the exit.

But you force yourself to breathe, and you push off the walls and into a sprint. You have no weapons, no gun, but the only thing you can think of is running, running and getting as far away from Sylus as possible. Zayne. Zayne will know how to fix this, surely he knows a cure for the aphrodisiac.

Your steps are growing clumsy, and every breath you take now has you gasping, a burning need growing within. Every muscle in your body begins to tremble, and the heat is almost unbearable. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out.

You need to get to Zayne.

Turning yet another corner, you expect to see the main hallway of the mansion, nearly crying in relief at the sight of the door when the world lurches sideways.

A shadowed claw reaches up from the ground, yanking your ankle backward with a painful tug. You scream, throwing a burst of energy behind you as your Evol flares up, snarling at the shadow that follows you.

But the aphrodisiac has you weak. Your power is sporadic and unfocused, and another set of shadows wrap around your thighs and arms, rendering you immobile as they squeeze and pull at your over-sensitive flesh.

The sound that comes from your throat is one of pain and need.

Sylus laughs, a deep and rumbling chuckle that echoes through the empty hallway. He emerges from the shadows, a beast walking upright. He towers over you, his massive frame blocking the light, casting a long shadow across the floor.

"Are you afraid, little one?"

You can barely answer.

"Good."

Sylus moves fast. Before you can blink, his hand is on your throat and he's lifting you up off the ground, his fingers digging into your skin right over your racing pulse as he holds you at eye level. "Perhaps I'll keep you around even after I'm done with you. After all, I truly enjoy watching my little prey struggle."

The memory sends a thrill of fear through your body.

You gasp, clawing at his arm, and Sylus tightens his grip on your throat with a click of his tongue. "Ah ah ah. No more of that, kitten. Not unless you want more punishment."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away even as he squeezes your throat and makes it hard to breathe. The lack of oxygen has you lightheaded, but the heat from his palm makes you even dizzier, a sick twisting against your core at the show of brute strength. You glare up at him, and you know he can see the fear and hatred and desire in your eyes, because he grins, a wicked smile full of fangs and blood and the promise of something far worse.

"But knowing you, perhaps that's what you're after?" 

The shadows tighten and you cry out again, snarling as you try and use your Evol to free yourself. Burning through his arm, Sylus releases you with a hiss. You run for it, barely making it three steps backward before you’re tackled to the floor. 

"There, there. No need to run from it, I know my nasty little brat enjoys this as much as I do. After all, you let me catch you, didn’t you?” He taunts, pressing his thigh between your legs. You're unable to stop yourself from grinding against him, whimpering as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “And I intend to keep my side of the deal.”

Pinning you on your stomach, Sylus drags blades of energy down your dress, ripping the fabric to shreds as the silk flutters to the floor. The cold air stings against your sensitive flesh, and you whimper at the near painful difference between the cold and the heat of his touch.

"I'll kill you," you hiss, and Sylus laughs. He could kill you now, before you made good on your promise. And oh it would make everything so much easier, simpler - but he didn’t. Can’t. Instead he forces your jaw to the side before crashing his lips onto yours, fangs catching against the plush flesh. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, yet you swear it’s the dichotomy between the painful bruising of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted. 

So you kiss him back, more teeth and tongue and thoroughly fucking addicting. "You're mine to kill, I won’t let anyone else take that victory from me.”

“That’s it,” Sylus practically growls into your ear, his face flushed and a vein protruding in his neck. Then your ass is lifted up, effortlessly manhandled like a ragdoll as you hear the click of Sylus’ belt. ”Keep fighting it, kitten, make it fun. But just know your body is so, so honest with me.”

And then you can’t breathe - not because his large hand tightens around your neck, forcing your body to arch into the floor, but because Sylus was suddenly rutting his weeping, fat tip between your thighs. It catches your swollen clit, and you grind against empty air, gasping. Sylus' laugh is cruel, sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing the sensitive skin. You shudder, the sensation of his cock dragging against your entrance enough to have you trembling. You're so close, and he's not even inside you yet.

"Aww, sweetheart. Are you scared? You're soaking." His words are mocking, and you try to bite back a moan as his hand leaves your waist, delivering a harsh slap against your ass instead. "Tell me, did that boy back in Linkon ever make you feel this good?"

"Fuck. You."

"Oh dear, did I hit a nerve?" He purrs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass.

"Shut up, shut the fuck up-" Your words are cut short, a strangled sound tearing from your throat when the head of his cock catches your folds, the sheer girth of him unable to push in, sliding against your cunt as she practically drools over him. 

Sylus curses against your neck, sitting back on his heels as he grabs his throbbing length, messily fucking your slick up and down, the heat and smell and feel of you enough to steal the rest of his sanity as he surrenders completely to the aphrodisiac. He’s bigger than usual, thicker and sensitive, and right when he thinks he might cum, Sylus forces his hand away. He can’t, not with you before him, it would be a waste.

A loud, broken moan escapes him as he tortures himself with a rough squeeze to his base, the sheer need overwhelming him as though he’d die should he not be inside you this very second. 

In you. He needs to be in you, cum in you, fill you up and claim you in every way possible. 

He’s about to try again when something warm squeezes around his base, nearly bringing him to his knees. Even though your shoulders were still pinned to the marble, you snuck one hand back to wrap around Sylus’ poor throbbing dick, your mere touch, barely able to circle around the girth of him, was enough to have him seeing white. 

“You’re- ah- taking too long.” You whine at the sight of Sylus at your mercy, and squeeze tighter. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking from his tip and dripping down your knuckles, and his eyes roll back into his head, drawing out a low, deep moan that practically vibrates through his chest. 

“You’re right,” Sylus yanks your hips back, grinding against your ass as his free hand weaves between the two of you, rolling against your clit. “She’s getting too impatient, isn’t she?” 

You can’t even hear your own screams, not over the obscene squelches your cunt makes over his dick and fingers. Sylus was using every ounce of remaining sanity to prove his point, unconsciously already bucking against you as he continued bullying your swollen nub until you gave in. All to make your ultimate surrender even sweeter. “I don’t mind spending the whole night fucking you into your place.”

He nearly roars in frustration as your cunt still refuses to take him, resisting each press of his hips. A pair of shadowy hands seize your ankles, yanking you backward and spreading your legs so wide that your hips nearly split. Your jaw falls open in a silent scream, thighs trembling as they’re practically pinned to your side, ass forced higher into the air as another set of tendrils come around to play with your swollen clit. 

He’s cruel. 

The longer it took, the thinner his restraint waned, and Sylus’ Evol surrounds the two of you in a web of darkness, cracking through the marble when your cunt finally yields to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock. As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Sylus’ cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both gasp.

The stretch burns, your walls forced to part around the head of his cock as the swollen tip sinks inside, stretching you past what was natural. His fingers leave bloody trails on your waist, but the thought of the permanent marks only adds to the heat coursing through your veins. You're panting now, a broken mantra of fuck me and please and more spilling from your lips as the aphrodisiac takes complete control.

The feeling of your cunt suffocating his swollen head as Sylus’ control waning, and you use the moment of weakness to push your hips backward, forcing him in further. With each slow grind the underside of Sylus’ cock unintentionally bullies itself against your sweet spot again and again and again, that one fat vein pulsing against it in time to his erratic heartbeat.

Head lolling to the side, you catch a glimpse of where the two of you meet and nearly sob. He’s not even halfway in yet. The pressure has your mind spinning, and god you don’t think you can take any more. 

But as you clench around him and Sylus makes up his mind, refusing to leave you a moment longer without being filled to the brink with his cum. And he forces you completely onto his cock. 

A scream of his name is all you manage before your eyes roll back, arching off the ground as your entire body goes rigid. Forcing past any remaining resistance, Sylus thrusts his entire length deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly, followed by a burst of pleasure so intense it hurts as you come undone, squirting over his cock and the floor.

Fucking you through your orgasm, he wraps one arm around your body, pulling you against him as your knees give in, refusing to give even an inch of space as the two of you buckle into the floor. 

"You're going to regret not running faster." Sylus hisses. "I'm never letting you go. Never- ah fuck- again."

He pulls out slowly, until only the swollen head remains inside, and then slams forward again. 

You try and claw your way out, unsure if you’re pushing closer or further, but the tendrils of energy around your legs only tighten their hold, forcing you back. The shadows seep into your flesh and leave trails of raw fire. You swear you feel him in your throat, and you know Sylus can feel it too. It's burning beneath your skin, a wild and desperate heat that feels like an inferno, a feeling so addicting it replaces the pain. 

You're resonating with him. You’re finally resonating and Sylus only growing stronger- rougher- because of it.

“Sylus, fuck, just—” you scramble for something, anything, to grab onto, screaming out different curses and moans until Sylus folds you further into the ground, pressing his full weight atop of you.

“You’re too loud, sweetie, it’s almost like you want someone to find us.” He rests his forearm before you, allowing you to claw into it as you cry. “Here.” And with that you bite, digging your teeth into his arm hard enough to draw blood as your screams are muffled with the tinge of copper. 

He laughs into your shoulder, leaning down as the new angle allows his tip to kiss your cervix. You sob, biting down again. “I want to mark you too,” and the way your skin breaks so, so easily under his fangs, marred with a permanent bloody print of him, has Sylus addicted.

So he bites again, lower this time, stands of bloody saliva connecting his lips to the dip of your spine. Fuck, he wants to mark you until there’s no question you’re taken, ruined, again and again and again. 

You don’t think he realizes he’s saying it out loud, a desperate mantra broken only by the wet sucking and biting of his lips. 

Sylus moans, hips stuttering as he comes with a shout, his sudden orgasm ripping through every muscle as he feels that corrupting heat relent with every thick rope of cum he paints inside your weeping cunt. He doesn't pull out, can't bear the thought of parting from your tight heat.

You whimper into his arm, biting again, feeling the warmth of his cum overflowing into you, squirting out as it drips down your thighs, still going and going as Sylus fucks himself through it, not stopping even as a creamy ring began forming at the base of his cock. 

Sylus expected the aphrodisiac to be absolved, waiting for the furious need, the soreness in his balls and the primal drive at the base of his brain to lessen, only to realize he felt no better. 

More. More, he still needs more. 

But so do you. And hell, you're so close, enough that you abandon your pride, crying for him over the gag that was his forearm, and beg. 

“Again,” Sylus growls. The sound rumbles deep within his chest, low and dangerous, and he can feel your pulse quicken, can hear the rush of blood through your veins. He can feel your Evol burning beneath your skin, the power seeping from your body in waves, and he can feel his own power responding.

The shadows grow. They writhe and pulse and spread, wrapping around the both of you and covering the room, turning the world pitch black. Caging you in. 

“Go on, no need to hold back now, sweetie.” Another ruthless thrust, and your jaw goes slack as he hits your cervix, deep enough that if he pushed any further you’re certain he’d breach your womb, heartbeat pulsing through your body like you were made for him. “Beg for it.”

You want to fight it. You want to say no, to struggle and bite and scratch. But the aphrodisiac has taken full control, and gods knew how long you’ve been losing the fight against Sylus even before this.

“Syl—“ His hips still. A warning. You fight to make any coherent thought amidst your unraveling, correcting yourself as you slur his title in sheer desperation, “Sir. Sir, please, let me come. You got to come, so help me!” your voice is hardly more than a broken gasp now, ”Please.”

Another tendril wraps around your front, pressing on the bulge through your stomach in time to every rough, wet, thrust, the double pressure enough to have you coming with a sob, wrecked from pleasure and pain as you tighten around his cock, almost begging to be filled more.

“Sir? I could get used to that.” Sylus barely even slows, continuing to use your trembling body as he drags himself in and out, the warm mixture of your cum forming a puddle beneath you as he watches in fascination, still consumed by the primal urge to get you full of him.

But now the aphrodisiac has loosened its grip on you, fulfilled desire replaced with sharp overstimulation as you sob into the marble, feeling every ram of Sylus’ hips smack into your swollen clit with a wet kiss. Not that he particularly cares. He knows your limit, and you’re not there yet.

“Relax. You can handle it.” Sylus laughs, grinding himself in deeper as he licks a stripe of blood and sweat up your neck. He pats your cheek condescendingly, forcing your face to the side as he scans your fucked-out expression with a wolfish smile. ”But should you have the audacity to die on me, I’ll simply bring you back just to use you again.”

Flipping you around with just an arm so you finally face him, Sylus brings your knee to your chest, the other hand forcing your jaw up so he could hear your unintelligible pleas properly.

“What? Can’t talk anymore?” He coos, relishing in the way your nails rake furiously down his back in reply- in warning. “Aw, is my baby drunk on my cock already? Should I stop?”

Not that Sylus could even fathom stopping now, not as he feels his cock bully the cum out of your poor overfilled pussy with each thrust. It drips down your legs and onto his tense balls as he fucks you like an animal, over and over and- And shit it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. 

You shake your head, sobbing.

 “No–” you cry, breath coming in gasps as Sylus pulls himself up onto his knees, forcing you upright as you splay out so easily on his lap, gravity now doing most of the work as you swear you feel him hit deeper than before. “Ah, too much!”

“One moment it’s too little, and the next too much. You should try and make up your mind, sweetheart.” One hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to look down at the way your poor pussy was bulging around Sylus’ cock. Your bodies are both drenched in a sinful mixture of blood and sweat and cum, sheer exhaustion slowing the both of you down as every slow, deep thrust is now accentuated with a filthy wet slap. “Mmmh I was foolish to let you run from me f’so long, not when you look so perfect like this.”

Sylus’ fangs graze your ear, abs tensing underneath your nails as he fucks up into you without any sort of rythm. Sharp, slow jabs of his hips, meeting each one as he palms at your swollen belly. “Can’t wait till you’re fucked full, right sweetie?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that he could hear one anyways, eyes blown out as they focus on your gorgeous body utterly surrendered to him, limp against his chest as he splays his fingers over your womb. “You wanna be filled? Wanna give me an heir for Onychinus?”

God, the very thought makes your head spin. “Please,” you whine, beginning to resonate with him once more as you arch violently into his chest. “More, I need more, please- fuck- don’t you dare s-stop.”

“Linkon’s righteous guardian and the White Wolf.” You don’t even realize it, but you’ve begun to match his thrusts, grinding down in his lap to meet his ruthless cadence. “We’d be unstoppable. You want that? Tell me-” his pleas break into a low moan, words slurred together as he pulls you closer, ramming you up and down as you can do nothing more than dig bloody lines down his enormous shoulders and chest. “Tell me you want it, need it- hah- tell me you’ll choose me.”

His cockhead rams against your bruised g-spot with each word, even when his voice breaks into senseless groans as he falls prey to your pretty little cunt trying to suck him in further and further still. And right as you feel yourself slipping, you pull him into a messy kiss - if it can even be called that, just a frenzied, messy drag of his lips against your open mouth, licking and sucking at your teeth. 

“I can never escape you.”

You don’t know who cums first- you only feel the heat surge in the base of your throat, heartbeat thumping erratically against your ears and cunt, falling into Sylus’ chest as the warmth takes you. Warm, everything is warm, burning up even without the aphrodisiac as you feel rope after rope of his seed paint the inside of your walls white, excess drooling out of your sensitive folds. 

Every ragged breath comes out in a mist against your ears, Sylus’ hair damp and stuck to his forehead and your own as he fights to control his breathing. His eyes are still locked where the two of you connect, fingers releasing your waist to try and shove his cum back inside. 

You hiss at the contact, trying to squirm away as you fall backwards, taking Sylus with you as your back hits the drenched marble. “Let go of me.”

Sylus raises a brow, lips curling over his teeth. “I’m not the one who's trapping us together.” He taps your legs still wrapped around his waist, and immediately you relax, shivering as you feel Sylus’ cock finally slide out of you. 

Even after all that you feel the lingering effects of the toxin bubble under your skin. Sated, for now, but far from gone. Hell, you think you might die if you have to go through that again. 

“We need to get to a hospital,” you say, refusing to meet Sylus’ eyes as you try to stand. Only for your knees to immediately buckle. 

Luckily, Sylus is there to catch you, pulling you into his arms before scooping you up to his chest. “Firstly, there is no hospital in the N109 Zone nor Linkon City that would admit me.” He stands with frustrating ease as the misty tendrils of his Evol cover your bare body like a second skin. “Secondly, we’re not exactly in a state where they wouldn’t begin asking questions, don’t you agree, kitten?”

You all but hiss at him, only making the man laugh harder until he winces, staggering slightly as you feel his skin grow hot again. It’s clear Sylus isn’t completely freed from the aphrodisiac either, the sheer volume the two of you must have breathed in during the initial attack far past the mortal limit. 

Not a hospital, fine. A doctor then. 

“I know a place.” You whisper, and Sylus narrows his eyes. “He won’t ask questions, and we’re already running out of time. Who knows how long the effects will last, and if anyone will know how to actually cure this it’ll be him.” 

“And I’m supposed to trust you, sweetie?”

You laugh, curt and humorless. “You don’t have a choice.”

Sylus goes quiet, but you can hear the argument raging in his head, brows furrowed as he scowls at open air. Another shiver rakes through your body, and you unconsciously press yourself closer, already dreading what will happen when the aphrodisiac comes back full force. 

But the sight of you, trembling and utterly vulnerable in his arms tugs at something forgotten, and Sylus relents. 

“Very well, tell me where to go.”

[reincrimination]

race against the clock

criminal minds | aaron hotchner x reader

content warnings: canon-typical violence, guns, death (unsub), panic attack, kidnapping, mild injury.

collection: whumptober 2024, day 1: race against the clock/search party/panic attack.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims. Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you. “Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right now. “What have you done with her?”

Aaron Hotchner knows how to keep his cool. Probably better than anyone on the team. In fact, he was the one to remind everyone to do just that before they breached the doors on this unsub’s decrepit cabin.

The woods were dark and eerie, as they always are on these types of days. It was some hour past midnight, Hotch couldn’t recall- all the numbers had started to blur together. The only time he had in his head was twelve hours, twelve hours since you’d gone missing. Taken right out of the parking lot of the precinct.

At least there hadn’t been much question about who had taken you. Finding the unsub’s cabin had been easy once Garcia had been given a name. Hotch only hoped recovering you would be that easy, and that you’d be unharmed.

“FBI! Open the door!” a man fully decked out in black SWAT gear and significantly more firepower than Hotch yelled, pounding on the front door.

The slats of the porch creaked under their feet, the paint flaking off the railings and the door-frame. The light shining through the smudged windows was the only clue this place was even inhabited.

There wasn’t even a car in the driveway.

The battering ram took the rotting door clear off of its hinges. The SWAT team fans out inside, searching room after room. Hotch hears them yelling “clear” as they proceed through the house. He waited with baited breath. If it were up to him he’d have been inside with them, but they knew this guy had lots of firepower at his disposal, so it was SWAT’s job to clear the house. Which, they had. Finding no one inside. Not even you.

Hotch felt the small balloon of hope inside him pop; the wind had been knocked out of him without so much as a physical punch. The SWAT team filed back out of the house. There was no unsub, and there was no sign of you.

A loud bang pierced the quiet night air.

The entire assembly of police and FBI agents all whirled around, guns drawn without a second thought. No one knew where to point them, though. The dark forest pressed in on all four sides of the cabin, the dirt road driveway even consumed by darkness after a few hundred feet.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He was half-hidden by the shadows cast by the tall pine trees, the moonlight unable to illuminate anything this far down from the forest canopy.

He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims.

Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you.

“Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right then. “What have you done with her?”

The unsub smirked, his grubby little brows furrowing, beady eyes narrowing, as he stared at Hotch.

“Answer me!” Hotch screamed. His voice broke on the last word.

“Take it easy, man,” Morgan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let the others talk to him. Take a breath.”

Taking a breath seemed like an objectively good idea, but Hotch found, he could not. His chest felt tight, like a rope was being pulled taut around him. His vision had begun to swim, the only thing he was focused in on was that disgusting, abhorrent man who had- who had-.

“Hotch,” Morgan repeated. He holstered his gun and took Hotch’s from him. “Come here. Don’t let him see you like this. That’s what he wants.”

“I need…” Hotch gasped. His hands were tingling, his fingers cramping. He tried to make fists with his hands as he followed Morgan back and around the back of an SUV, hidden from the unsub’s line of sight, but his hands weren’t cooperating. “I need to get her back, Morgan.”

What was happening to him? He had never felt like this before. He wouldn’t even be able to fire a gun like this, not with his hands cramping. How was he supposed to do anything?

“Is- are they talking to him?” Hotch peeked around the side of the SUV. He saw Spencer, his hands out placatingly, trying to talk to the unsub. He trusted Spencer, he trusted all of his team, but he needed to be out there. What if the unsub said something that they all missed. That only Hotch could put together. What if he said that he had killed you? Stabbed you, like all the others, or worse? “I need to- Morgan, give me my gun.”

“Hotch, relax,” Morgan tapped his shoulders again, trying to draw his attention back. “Focus on me. Breathe, slowly. You’re hyperventilating. You’re panicking, man. You’re no help to her like this.”

“Morgan, she’s not just- fuck- she’s not just an agent, she’s- we’re-,” Hotch stammered.

“I know, Hotch. We all know. And we’re going to find her.”

Hotch felt his hands relaxing, his chest loosening, his composure returning, like clouds parting after a storm. Leaving a clear sky. He needed to focus on finding you, and he couldn’t do that if he was panicking. He held his breath and counted to seven and then exhaled and did it again, until his hands were steady and his vision was clear.

“I told you,” Hotch heard the unsub groan to Spencer, “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Hotch. To Aaron.”

Morgan handed him his gun back and they left the shelter of the SUV. The unsub was still talking with Spencer, but had clearly noticed Hotch’s absence. The unsub’s gaze had flicked to track Hotch as he strode to the front of the crescent of officers. He kept his gun at his side- enough officers had their guns trained on the unsub anyways- in an attempt to be non-threatening.

“I’m Aaron,” Hotch said. He stepped forward, closer to the unsub. Hotch scanned his clothes, hands, arms, boots, everything, for any trace of blood, or dirt, or any clue as to where you were hidden. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” the unsub huffed a laugh. “You were all she wanted to talk about.”

Wanted? In the past tense?

Hotch felt the panic rising again. He took a deep breath. He could do this, he could stay focused for you. He had to, if he ever wanted to see you- alive, or otherwise, again. He had to pretend this was no different than any other case, that you were just another victim. That was the only way for him to avoid panicking- something he had never known he needed to avoid doing, before. Before you. Before he cared about someone as much as he cared about you, before you were put in danger.

“What else did you talk about?” Hotch asked. He needed information, any small hint at where the man had hidden you.

“Plenty.” The unsub shifted his weight from foot to foot, his left hand flexed around the hilt of his handgun. “We talked about how I couldn’t wait to shoot you. How that would be more painful to her than any physical would I could inflict. She begged me not to. Have you ever heard her beg before?”

The unsub began to raise his left arm up, gun in hand, but before it passed his waistline, a hail of bullets rained down on him. His body hit the ground before Hotch could even blink.

“NO!” Hotch shouted. He holstered his own gun, and kicked the unsub’s gun away from his side. He sank to his knees, suit pants sinking into the damp mud and pine needles. Hotch knotted his fists in the man’s shirt, and shook him, hard. “Where is she?”

“Hotch,” Emily murmured, somehow kneeling beside him now.

“Hotch, he’s gone.”

“Tell me where she is, you bastard!” Hotch’s voice had begun to go raw from screaming. He shook him one more time. Then he noticed: the dark, round hole in the center of his forehead.

Hotch released his grip on the unsub’s body and stumbled to his feet.

His knees were wet from the mud, and maybe from the blood that had undoubtedly already pooled out around the body from the various gunshot wounds.

Now we have nothing, he thought, pushing past the crowd of officers. He glanced at the empty driveway. Not even a car.

Not even a car.

Hotch whipped around.

“Follow the tire tracks!” he ordered, breaking into a run. “He has to have used the car to move her. Wherever it is, she is.”

He pulled out his flashlight and shone it on the dirt driveway. The earth was wet and covered in pine needles, making it difficult to analyze what he found. Two divots on each side of the path denoted the place the tires must’ve usually rested when the car was parked. They extended down the path through the forest, down a few miles to the main road. There wasn’t much room between the trees for the car to have pulled off, but he must’ve found somewhere, because if he had taken you to the main road, the officers at the roadblocks there would have seen him.

Hotch broke into a run, shining his flashlight ahead of him, looking for the slightest disturbance in the forest floor. He heard footsteps and clamor behind him as the rest of the cops and his agents spread out into a search party. He knew they could get scent dogs out in a few hours, but your scent would be hard to track, if not impossible, especially if he was right and the unsub had moved you using a car. Searching on foot was Hotch’s only hope to find you soon.

He had said that they had talked about shooting him- how it would be more painful for you than anything he could possibly have done to her.

Implying that you had to have been alive when the unsub shot Hotch- or had tried to.

The relief and hope that flooded Hotch at that realization almost distracted him enough to miss what he had finally found- a tire track, veering off between two trees that the car had probably barely fit between. Hotch shone the beam of the flashlight on the trunks and noticed the bark had been scraped off, and chips of white paint were left in the gouges. You had to be somewhere close, if the unsub had walked on foot from where he had hidden you.

Hotch began yelling your name, and then, all the other officers started, too. They moved forward like in a grid search, looking behind every tree, kicking through the leaf cover for anything left behind. “I found the car!” Morgan yelled. Then, the words that Hotch had been waiting to hear for the last twelve- now more like thirteen- hours: “I got her! She’s alive!”

Hotch ran towards the sound. The officers had already clustered around a small wooden structure, a hunting blind. A few meters behind it was the unsub’s parked car. The area quickly became illuminated in bright white lights as all the cops present shone their flashlights on you.

Hotch watched as Morgan began to help you up. Your hands were zip-tied tightly behind your back; Hotch could see dried blood around your wrists where they had cut into your skin. A pair of zip ties hung off of your ankles- Morgan must have just cut them off. He used his pocket knife to slash the ones holding your wrists together, too. Your hair was disheveled and full of leaves and debris, like you had been dragged along the floor, and a huge gash and bump to your right temple, like you’d been pistol whipped, glowed in the bright light of the flashlights.

“Where is he?” you sobbed, clinging onto Morgan’s arms as he helped you out of the blind. “Is he dead?”

“He’s dead, sweetheart,” Morgan tried to soothe you and pull you in for a hug, but you pushed him away, more strongly than you should’ve been able to after being tied up for so long.

“No!” you wailed. “How could you let this happen?”

Confusion flashed on Morgan’s face, and through Hotch’s mind.

Then, he realized. The unsub had known that he would die when he faced the police, but he knew that his final act would be to psychologically torture you, leaving you to wonder if one of the gunshots you had heard had been him shooting Hotch, like he had promised you he’d do as his final act.

Morgan had misunderstood your question. He had just told you that Hotch was dead.

Hotch finally closed the distance between the two of you. He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. A broken sob wrenched its way out of your throat, tear tracks already cutting through the layer of dirt and dried blood on your face.

“Aaron,” you croaked. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m here,” Aaron murmured beside your ear, so softly no one else could hear. It was just you and him now, in your own world. The secrecy of your relationship be damned, he would deal with the consequences later. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You broke down sobbing into his arms, all the fight flooding out of you as soon as you realized that Hotch was alive. The dehydration, the hunger, the fear, and the pain in your head all rushed back in. Hotch’s arms tightened around you, the only thing holding you up anymore. His face was smushed into your dirty hair, the blood on your wrists was staining his shirt and tie, but neither of you noticed, nor would you have cared if you had.

“I knew you- I knew you’d find me,” you gasped, fisting his shirt in your trembling fingers. You stared up at him, into his beautiful glossy brown eyes, committing every inch of his face to memory. You had thought you’d never see him again, never hear his voice again, never feel his touch again. “When I heard the shots, I thought- oh, my God- I thought you were-.”

“Shh,” Aaron soothed. He wrapped a hand around the back of your head, near the base of your skull, and guided your face into the crook of his neck. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, a wet, raw sound. “I know.”

“I thought he…” you mumbled into his neck, the words dying on your parched lips, or before that, in your sore throat. “Aaron.”

“I’ve got you, honey,” he murmured back, cradling your head so softly in his big hands. “You’re safe now.”

[clover-the-awesomest]

Y E S

i know everyone loves lord dominator for being to super cool awesome lava shooting deliquent and like me too but you guys also need to remember she's a loser degenerate girlfailure that lost against an orange cat and that's part of the appeal. i will not take any further inquires you can talk to my secretary about that

[simplygojo]

Another Speeding Ticket

Author's Note: Hey y'all, tysm for all the love n care you've been sending me. I am basically back to normal now, so lets assume our resume Kinktober schedule..haha.

Spooky Szn Masterlist

This kinktober oneshot includes a Kinktober Prompt request, I hope you enjoy ;) I am getting very smutted out, so I unfortubatly will not be able to complete all of your requests! I will try my best, even if I finish them in November, but thank you guys so much for the support!

Pairing: Cop!Nanami x f!reader

Request: This request was by @aurorascorpio, although I slightly altered it. I hope you enjoy :) The request is linked here for any interested <3

I also included a few other anon requests in this fic, so I hope YOU ALL ENJOY!!! (shoutout to 🐜 !!)

Kinks: Spanking, Overstimulation, Edging, Size, Brat Taming, Breeding & Gun Play

Word Count: 2.2K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, gun play, fingering, spanking, size kink, overstimulation, breeding, brat taming, aggressive sex.

The sound of your engine roaring down the empty highway was almost therapeutic, the thrill of speeding through the night air intoxicating. 

But as soon as the familiar red and blue lights flashed behind you, your heart sank. Not again.

You groaned, already knowing who it was. Every time. It was always him.

You pulled over, slamming your palms on the steering wheel in frustration, and your forehead followed, leaning against it in defeat. 

You didn’t even need to look in the mirror to recognize the tall figure walking toward your car. 

His slow, measured footsteps sent your pulse racing, not in fear, but in a way that made your body heat.

Nanami Kento—your boyfriend—who was also a cop, and didn’t mind giving you speeding tickets despite your relationship.

Blonde hair slicked back, face perfectly composed and stern, his broad shoulders filling out his uniform almost too well. 

You swallowed as he approached, your heart hammering in your chest. This was probably the fifth time he’d pulled you over in the last month alone, and each time, his scolding made you feel like a naughty child being disciplined.

But this time felt different. There was a tension in the air you couldn’t quite place, an edge to his movements, like his patience had finally run dry.

He tapped on your window, and you rolled it down, biting your lip as his sharp eyes locked onto yours.

“Step out of the vehicle, Miss y/l/n,” Nanami’s voice was clipped, no room for argument.

You blinked, your stomach doing nervous flips. "W-wait, is this really necessary? I wasn’t going that fast—"

“You were going twenty-five over the limit. Again,” he said, his tone hard as steel. His gaze pierced through you, making you shrink back. “Step. Out.”

You hesitated but did as he commanded, heart pounding in your chest. 

The night air was cool against your legs as you stood beside your car, your skirt fluttering slightly as you faced him.

Nanami stood tall in front of you, his jaw clenched, looking every bit the no-nonsense cop he always was. 

There was a certain dominance in the way he towered over you, the stiff set of his jaw making your breath hitch. You could practically feel the weight of his authority pressing down on you, making your knees weak.

“I’ve warned you so many times, y/n,” he sighed, his voice lowering as his frustration bled through. “And yet here you are, speeding again. Reckless.”

“I-I’m sorry, really! I swear this is the last time—"

“No. You don’t get to talk your way out of this one,” Nanami cut you off, his tone sharp. 

“You don’t seem to learn your lesson. Maybe I need to teach you a different way.” His eyes darkened, and before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and pressing your front against the side of your car.

You gasped, heart racing. “Wait—what are you doing?”

“Bend over,” he ordered, voice deep with authority.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand pressed against your back, forcing you into position. 

You could feel his presence looming behind you, his large frame towering over your bent form. 

The cold metal of his gun on his waist grazed your lower back as his hips pressed into you, and the weight of it sent a shiver through you.

“You’ve been a brat every time I’ve caught you,” he muttered darkly, his hands sliding down your waist, roughly pulling your skirt up to expose your panties. 

“Maybe it’s time I put you in your place.”

The thrill of it all made your thighs clench together, heat pooling between your legs. You squirmed, trying to protest, but he was having none of it.

“Be a good girl, my dear,” he commanded, his voice laced with danger. “Or do I need to use more force?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, already feeling the wetness soaking through your panties. 

“No, sir…”

His large hands roamed over your ass, kneading the flesh before giving it a sharp slap. You yelped, the sting sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that, don’t you?” He growled, landing another smack, harder this time. 

The sound echoed in the quiet night as you gasped, body arching against the car. 

“You act like a brat, and you’ll get treated like one.”

Another slap, then another. 

The rhythm of his spanking had your ass burning, your legs weak. You were dripping, your panties clinging to your slick folds as he continued his punishment.

Without warning, he yanked your panties down, leaving you completely exposed to the night air. 

Your heart raced, both embarrassment and excitement swirling together in a heady mix.

Nanami’s fingers slid between your legs, teasing your entrance before slipping one thick finger inside. 

You moaned, your body instantly responding, grinding back against his hand. The stretch of just one of his fingers was enough to send a surge of heat through your core, your walls clenching around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“So eager,” he muttered, pleased with the way your body reacted to him. 

“My job is to enforce the law, and teach people lessons when they break those laws…” 

He unholstered his gun, the metallic sound making your pulse quicken. 

The cold barrel pressed against your hip as his fingers moved inside you with deliberate slowness, curling against your walls. 

The juxtaposition of pleasure and danger sent a shiver down your spine.

The pressure of the gun against your skin made you gasp, your body arching against the car. 

He wasn’t rough, but the weight of it was enough to remind you who was in control. His thumb brushed against your clit, applying just enough pressure to have you trembling beneath him.

“You don’t learn, do you?” Nanami murmured, his voice deep and steady, even as his fingers slipped deeper, hitting a spot that made your legs weak. 

“I’ve warned you time and time again, and yet here you are, acting like a reckless brat.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more. But Nanami wasn’t having it. 

He withdrew his fingers almost entirely, barely grazing your entrance as you squirmed in frustration.

“Stay still,” he commanded, the gun now resting against your waist as a cold reminder. “You don’t get to decide when you get what you want.”

Your hips moved on their own, seeking the friction he was withholding, the need in your belly tightening like a vice. 

The absence of his touch left a hollow ache, but his control over you kept you teetering on the edge of submission.

Every time you felt yourself climbing toward release, he would slow down, making you gasp in frustration. 

The ache between your legs grew, your need for him becoming desperate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to beg. Not yet.

His fingers slipped back inside, slow and deliberate, rubbing against that sensitive spot that made your legs shake. 

“Look at you,” he muttered darkly. “All that attitude, and now you’re desperate for me.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to moan too loudly, your pride still intact despite the torment. 

But Nanami could read you too well, knew how close you were.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over your clit in maddening circles. “I can feel how badly you need it. How you’re shaking for it.”

“Yes…Yes sir” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop it. 

Your pride wavered as the pleasure coursed through you, leaving you trembling against the car.

Nanami hummed in approval, but instead of giving you what you craved, he pressed the gun harder against your skin, reminding you who held all the power. 

His pace slowed again, the edging cruel as your body throbbed with need.

“Have some patience, my dear” he growled, his voice dangerously low. 

His fingers worked you with precision, drawing you to the edge once more, only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink.

Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened, the authority in his touch clear as he held you firmly against the cool metal of the car. 

His voice was low, commanding, as he muttered darkly into your ear, “If you don’t learn, maybe I’ll have to give you something to remember. Maybe putting a baby in you will finally get you to listen.”

Your breath hitched at his words, heat pooling between your legs as the weight of his intention sank in.

His fingers left you aching, desperate for more, and before you could respond, Nanami moved swiftly. 

His belt clinked as he unbuckled it, and you felt the heavy press of his cock against your slick entrance.

The size of him alone had you gasping, your body trembling with anticipation.

Without warning, he pushed into you, his cock stretching you wide as he filled you completely in one rough thrust. 

The sensation of him deep inside you made your legs buckle, and you braced yourself against the car, the overwhelming fullness leaving you breathless. 

He was so thick, so impossibly big, that it felt like your body was struggling to take all of him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Nanami grunted, his voice strained with restraint. His hands roamed your hips, holding you steady as he pulled out only to slam back into you, his pace rough and unrelenting from the start. 

Each thrust pushed you forward against the cool surface of the car, your ass burning from the rough spanking and your body tingling with overstimulation.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growled, landing another sharp slap on your ass that sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you. 

“Maybe this will finally teach you to behave.”

The sharp sting of his hand contrasted with the deep, pounding thrusts of his cock, and you could barely keep yourself together, the combination of pain and pleasure sending you spiralling toward the edge. But Nanami was far from done.

He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, 

“You’re going to take every inch of me, and you’re not going to cum until I say so.” His thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight circles that had you clenching around him, desperate for release.

The pleasure was too much, your body trembling as you felt your orgasm build, but Nanami wasn’t giving you the satisfaction. 

He pulled back slightly, dragging his cock out of you slowly, only to slam back into you with such force that you cried out, your hands scrambling for purchase against the car.

“You think you can just do whatever you want?” Nanami taunted, his hips snapping against yours with punishing force. “Breaking the rules like a spoiled brat? Not anymore.”

His pace quickened, the force of his thrusts driving you closer and closer to the brink, but every time you felt yourself teetering on the edge, he slowed down just enough to keep you from falling over. 

The overstimulation had your body shaking, desperate for release, but Nanami wouldn’t let you have it.

His words sent a shiver through you, the promise of him filling you making your body respond in ways you couldn’t control. 

You wanted it, wanted him to finish inside you, to claim you in every way. The idea of him filling you with his sweet release, of the possibility of it taking, had your thighs clenching with need.

“Please,” you whimpered, your pride shattered as you begged him. “Please, let me cum…”

Nanami chuckled darkly, his hand landing another sharp slap on your ass before he picked up the pace, fucking you hard and deep, his cock hitting spots that made your vision blur. 

Your body tensed, teetering on the edge once again as he fucked you harder, the pleasure overwhelming as he pounded into you. 

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing with brutal intensity, and the combination of his size, the stinging spanks, and the threat of being filled finally pushed you over the edge. 

You were practically seeing stars as you felt the familiar sense of pleasure begin to creep up on you.

“Cum for me,” Nanami commanded, his voice sharp as he thrust into you with one final, deep stroke. “Take it all.”

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you came hard, your walls clenching around him as you milked his cock. 

The intensity of it had your legs trembling, and you barely registered Nanami’s groan of satisfaction as he followed you over the edge, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, filling you with his cum.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, his voice muffled as he squeezed the skin on your hips tightly, staying buried deep inside you as he emptied himself, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down. 

“Maybe now you’ll finally listen.”

Your body was spent, your legs weak as you leaned against the car, panting and trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.

Nanami stayed inside you for a moment longer, making sure you felt every bit of him before he finally pulled out, leaving you breathless and full.

[comfortscripts]

A Glimpse Of What I'd Do For You l Coriolanus Snow

Plot - As the First Lady of Panem, it is your duty to protect your husband. Even if it means dirtying your hands. But what is a little blood when the reward is so sweet? Pairing - Young!President!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Female!Reader Warnings - Heavy plot + light porn. They are both mad, but sweet for each other. Murder/execution with guns, blood, body worship (??), nipple play, toxic language (??), light aspects of oral (fem receiving), softdom!corio. I fully believe he would be a total simp for someone on his wavelength Word Count - 1,288

Check out the rest of my kinktober fics

“Darling, could I trouble you for a moment?”

Words breaking through the tense atmosphere that Coriolanus has cultivated in his private office. Harsh oak furniture, meticulously organised bookcases, swirls of browns and reds with faint hints of a cool gold. The help liked to say the cold of the room matched Mr. Snow’s frozen heart, but even the ruthless President of Panem couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed at his wife’s delicate words.

“You are never a trouble,” he spoke with the push of his sturdy throne-like chair against the floor, punctuating his words. “Come in, my snowdrop.”.

The First Lady of Panem was nothing if not obedient. Perhaps that’s why Coriolanus allowed you into his kingdom after six months of marriage.

Wordlessly, you rounded the desk to perch yourself upon his navy-blue-clad leg and perfectly placed a light kiss against his lips. The kind of kiss that tempted him to become entangled in your sweet web regardless of duties. Piercing blues too busy consuming his prize, thinking of all the ways to corrupt his pretty petal. Not even noticing you slide a sleek silver tablet onto the desk.

“I have a gift for you, Corio.”

A glossy black screen stared back at him with a barely visible play button. Those pale digits broke from your waist to start the show before returning to their previous position. He could feel the shift of your body and took close note of how you were biting back a smile.

Suddenly a face that has haunted his dreams appeared: Lucy Gray Baird. Coriolanus could feel the bile rising in his throat at the sight of that traitor. Despite the fact she was strapped to a chair with thick masking tape covering her sickening mouth, he felt uneasy.

“What is this?”

“Freedom. Keep watching, my love.”

The tense grasp on your waist must have been aching, almost as if he was punishing you for showing him this she-devil. But it was soon alleviated as he saw your graceful figure walk into the cell of Lucy Gray. Stark white gown, as pure as snow, standing there inches away from her. Stoic guards either side of your regal stance, part of Coriolanus compared your image to the Queen being flanked by knights on his chessboard staring down a lowly pawn.

“Firstly, I'd like to say thank you, Lucy Gray. If you hadn’t betrayed the only good thing in your life, I wouldn’t have my darling husband. Truly, I appreciate it.”

This wasn’t his snowdrop. Never had he heard your voice that dominant and cold. Part of him preened at the words being spoken, yet he feared what was to come. Who had he married?

“You were very difficult to track down. See, originally, I wanted you gone because I knew he loved you, and I don’t like sharing. But then I found out that you wanted to destroy him. Drive him insane with your silly little tweety songs. And, well, no one can drive him crazy except me.”

Just as his mind caught up with the intentions of your words, a glistening of his father’s legendary pistol came into focus. Pointed between the eyes of the witch who once trapped his heart.

“Goodbye Lucy Gray. No one will remember you, and the Snow family will live forever.”

The bang of the bullet felt like an earthquake, but the image of you, his innocent little petal, with blood seeping into your porcelain dress was enough to silence all thoughts. Screen fading to black as the guards moved to remove the body.

“Did you like my gift?”

It was so small, as if you had made him a cake and were afraid that you’d added too little sugar. This was the wife he knew, and the wife he was growing to love. He always knew you were perfect; that is why he agreed to his marriage, but this was more than he could ask for.

He craved loyalty, obsession, ruthlessness, and compliance. You were everything he would ever need, wrapped in a pink bow. Finally, an equal, someone to love him the way he wished to be loved. Coriolanus would get rid of anyone you wished, and to know he has your devotion makes him feel invincible.

“It may be the best present anyone has ever given me. Let me thank you for it properly.”

Spider-like touches tingled down your spine before feeling the cool air prick your skin as Corio relieved the zip of its job, allowing your dress to pool in your lap. Three abrupt taps on the desk said everything, and within moments, you settled your bare body against the chill of the wood. There was nothing better than feeling his eyes map your body with such hunger. Swirls of lust flush through his eyes as he lightly runs his long digits over the exposed skin.

“Who knew my sweetheart could be so fierce? Those hands weren’t made for killing; they are far too pretty. And who would have expected those callous words to come from such beautiful lips? But you did it for me. Everything you do is for me.”

Standing to attention, he traced the expanse of your collarbone with featherlight touches. Eyes wide watching him in anticipation, every touch made your arousal swell. Never would you rush him; he ruled Panem and your heart. He was your purpose. He was yours. Coriolanus intoxicated you. Faint scents of leather and brandy washed over your senses; the heat of his body against your as he placed calculated kisses against your skin made you dizzy. With so little, he made you feel so much.

A gentle moan fell from your lips as the young president found his mouth on your taunt nipple, carefully flicking the tip with his talented tongue. Oh, how you wish that scandalous mouth was somewhere else right now. His appreciation was felt full force. Those large hands groped at your skin as if he were trying to consume you. Leaving a litter of marks and nips across your chest, as if he were an artist and you, his canvas.

“I would do anything for you, my dear. You gave me freedom from that whore, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have your love. You are my only obsession. So tell me. Name it, and it is yours.”

A sense of shock washes over you; he has never once asked what you wanted in the bedroom. As with many things in his life, Coriolanus was not open to advice or direction. Images flashed of what you wanted but your tongue tangled as you went to voice it. So caught in the moment, it felt impossible to string a coherent sentence.

“I want- I want you.”

“Be specific, my snowdrop.”

He knew what you wanted. Sinking to the floor as one arm curls around the thickness of your thigh, pulling you closer to his body. That smile told you that he knew, he always knows. Coriolanus wanted to see whether your boldness extended past the video.

“Tell me, Mrs. Snow, how can I please you? You have pleased me so, and I want to show my appreciation, so tell me. Now.”

The feeling of his breath against the wet patch growing on your panties sent a shiver down your spine, feeding the need for his mouth on you. You needed him carnally. Hands wrapped in those icy locks, pale fingers curling inside, and him acting as if he were a man starved.

“I need your mouth- your fingers. Please Corio. Thank me with your mouth. Worship my pussy with those fingers, please, my love.”

Fingers hooking the corners of your underwear, gently discarding the elegant lace. Stormy blues and a haunting smirk told you that he'd be thanking you for hours to come.

“As you wish, my love. I am yours to use, as you are mine.”

A King is only as good as his Queen.

[rainrot4me]

Behind The Veils

Summary: Hiking to capture the perfect sunrise photo for your portfolio, you stumble upon a supposedly abandoned cabin, your curiosity driving you to investigate. When you're met with two very large and very aggressive masked men, they decide that they'll put you to good use.

Characters: Masky & Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Bondage, gagging, choking, throat fucking, restraint, teasing, dominance, threesome, vaginal, anal, eating out, cumming on face, threatening, chasing, bargaining, mentions of guns, ropes

Words: 6.1k

You would do anything for a good shot. Trespassing included.

Working on your portfolio for school was proving to be more physically demanding than you anticipated, but if it meant you got in on a good scholarship, you were willing to break a few laws.

Your heart raced as you pushed down the barbed wire fence and swung a leg over. These woods were off-limits as deemed by the state, but you knew of a beautiful mountainscape that would make for a perfect sunrise picture. And, considering how your portfolio was currently looking, you needed this shot. Glancing at the “Private Property, Do Not Enter” sign one last time, you swung your other leg over and pulled your backpack back onto your shoulders. 

You filled your large pack with enough stuff to last you a day. A sleeping bag, a one-person tent, a fire starter, and all the other junk you could think of. It was late afternoon now, and you planned on setting up camp closer to the lookout and hiking the rest before sunrise. It would be a couple of miles, but you were willing and excited. Photography was your life and passion, and you planned on following it through no matter the challenge (or legality). 

Pushing away from the barbed fence, you trekked through the dense forest, with no clear path in sight. You pulled out your phone and found your map, searching for an easier way to the scenic lookout, but finding no angle except the one you were taking now. You groaned, shoving your phone back in your back and continuing on. It wasn’t all that bad though. The weather was warm, a breeze blowing through the dense trees and cooling you off. The late summer afternoon had animals and bugs buzzing, creating a nice scenery to walk through. You wouldn’t only get a good picture, but a nice hike in as well.

But as the day passed and the sun stooped lower into the horizon, the woods were becoming less and less inviting. The animals had gone quiet now, with no chirping or singing of birds in the trees. The only noise was the low humming of insects in the grass, an ominous feeling creeping on you the darker it got. You knew it was only your mind tricking you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Only about two miles out from the lookout now, and this felt like a good place to set up camp. 

Hurriedly, you unpacked your bag, popped up your tent, and rolled your sleeping bag out. The sky was dark with the colors of the sunset, but it provided just enough illumination to gather fallen branches and make a small fire stack. You crouched down, tossing some brush and leaves into the pile and striking the fire starter, creating a spark that flamed into a small fire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to heat your bowl of food and provide you warmth against the cooler night air. Still so strangely quiet, the forest was dark, unable to see past the glow of your fire. You tried not to psych yourself out, but you gripped your pocket knife close, fiddling with the blade anxiously. You knew there were no people out here. At least none besides brave teenagers who dared each other to throw parties out here. Your main concern was a bobcat or some wild animal running up on you, but you thought scaring anything off wouldn’t be too difficult.

You breathed deep, trying to calm your nerves against your racing mind. Deciding you were tired enough, you zipped open the small tent and wrapped it up in your sleeping bag, closing the tent back and nestling it. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and grasshoppers in the grass, but your brain was still on high alert, listening closely. But when nothing came, your eyes eventually fluttered close and you slipped into sleep. 

-

Morning eventually came, and you were pleasantly surprised with how little you stirred during the night. Unzipping the tent, the cool morning air rolled in, pulling you awake. The forest was covered in a dense wave of fog, the sun still low on the horizon and just barely peeking up against the horizon. Jumping up, you quickly packed your things and shuffled your backpack on. But when you went to stomp out your smoldering fire, something in the dirt nearby caught your attention. Peering closer, your heart sunk, fear rising in your throat. In the damp dirt, a very large bootprint was sunk into the ground. As you looked, you found more following closer to your tent. You began to silently panic, swinging your head around to look through the trees, but sighing when you saw nothing. Your heart still raced with the knowledge that someone had been walking around near your camp making you sick. 

Stomping out the rest of the fire, you scurried away back onto your path, walking a little faster than you were before. As you walked, you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were tricking yourself. Maybe it was your boot print that you accidentally left, or someone that had hiked there before and it was just their leftover tailmarks. But you knew that boot was easily four sizes bigger than your own, and that boot print looked way too fresh. Shivering, you continued your trek but kept a close eye out, jumping at any slight movements.

Eventually, you crept up the mountainside, breathing heavily as you raced against the sunrise to the rocky overlook. The fog had settled, a thin haze of mist against the grass all that remained. Gripping onto trees, you pushed up the hill, the lookout coming into view. You sighed heavily, tugging yourself up the rocks and eventually reaching the top, breathing heavily. But as you caught your breath, you tossed your backpack off and rummaged through for your camera and the stand. The sun was just barely peeking up, offering a nice pink haze across the entire scene. Your excitement bubbled as you found your supplies and began to set up at the edge of the rocks.

High up on the mountain, you could see the stretch of the forest, the trees looking even more dense from up high. It was stunning as the sun reflected off of the morning dew. The mountain range in the distance complemented the horizon beautifully, the sun shining right between the peaks. Clasping your camera onto the tripod, you turned it on and angled it, catching the expanse of the forest in the lens. You smiled wide, snapping dozens of pictures before repositioning and capturing more. You would go through them all later, editing and angling them just perfect for your portfolio. This scene just screams adventure, solitude, and daring. It was perfect. 

As you finished taking pictures, you noticed a gap in the treeline further up the mountain, another great angle of the mountain range. Grabbing your stuff, you hauled further up, clicking through the photos you had already taken as you walked. These were exactly what you needed, but you wouldn’t mind snapping a few more from a different angle just in case.

Pushing through the brush of the mountain, you finally reached the higher peak, already throwing your stuff down to set up again. But as you set your tripod up, something in the trees caught the corner of your eye. Turning, you could barely make out the cabin hidden amongst the large trees. Peeking, your brows knitted, unsure of why there was a cabin out here in the first place. Turning back, you quickly snapped a few pictures before packing your stuff back up, the sun well above the mountains now. 

Pushing deeper into the trees, you studied the cabin, the small lodge otherwise invisible from outside the forest. The thick leaves and foliage disguised it, making it all the more ominous. Maybe it was a hunting cabin used during the winter or some old abandoned home before the state closed this forest off. You knew you should’ve been more cautious, but as the sun peeked through the trees and cast a warm glow against the dark wood, all you could think of was how good it would look in a photo.

Pressing closer, you hugged against the trees, trying to see the best angle for a picture. The cabin was older, with weathering and vines decorating the exterior. But it was charming, in a creepy kind of way. As you rounded to the side of the cabin only a couple of yards away, you lifted your camera and shot a couple of pictures, admiring the mist radiating around the lodge in the early sunlight. You trudged around to the back, lifting your camera again but stopping quickly. At first, you thought it was just the sunlight shining through one of the windows. But as you looked closer, you could see a small lamp turned on inside of the dusty window.

Your heart stopped, a cold shiver shooting up your spine. There was no way someone was out here. Especially not inside that decrepit old thing. You knew you should’ve high-tailed it out of there, packing up your stuff and shooting back down the mountain. But you being your daring self, you pressed closer to the small porch of the cabin, trying your best to peek inside the fogged window. When you eventually got so close your feet knocked the steps of the porch, you stepped up, sliding to the window. 

Cobwebs decorated the porch, and large vines and patches of weathering surrounded the wooden door. You couldn’t see very well through the window, but as you crouched against the cabin and peered inside, you were shocked to see nothing. There were no signs of life inside besides the small lamp, somehow powered on in the middle of nowhere. How it was getting electricity, you were too dumb to figure out. 

You stood slowly, trying your best to see further than the lamp through the fogginess of the glass. Maybe it was just left on accidentally? You hoped so. But who would come all the way out here? After deducing that the place truly was abandoned, you set your bag on the porch and lifted your camera. Even though scary, the closeness would make for a good picture. Angling, you captured the lamp framed by the foggy window. However, when the flash of the camera went off, a sudden thud echoed inside the lodge. Your heart dropped, white fear shooting through as you backed against the railing of the porch. Shit. Shit. Shit. The sudden loud thuds of boots sounded inside, your body scrambling quickly to grab your bag and run, but it was already too late.

The door slammed open in your face, knocking you back on your ass down the steps and onto the grass below. You didn’t even look up, turning quickly to dig your feet into the ground and sprint. You held your camera close to your chest, panting heavily as you dodged through the trees. You had no idea who was in that cabin, but you weren't going to stick around and find out. If they were crazy enough to live out here then they were crazy enough to hurt you, and fuck that. Nudging through the brush, you pressed through the trees, heaving desperately for air as your legs burned with fear. As soon as you felt like you had gained a good distance away, it all ended. You felt your head stop before the rest of your body, your limbs shooting forward before you were slammed down to the ground with a loud thud. Your head pounded, a large hand pressing your face down into the ground and giving you a terrible impact headache. You’d be lucky if you didn’t have bruises from how hard your body stopped. 

Groaning sharply, you squinted your eyes, your vision partially blinded by the thick fingers pressing down against your face. Your body panicked, writing under the weight as the body on top of you pressed down harder, restricting your movements. You wanted to scream, but your head was pounding too hard to speak, let alone scream. Clawing at the hand on your face, you whined, desperate to move as fear ran through you. 

“Quit fighting.” A gruff voice groaned in front of your face, pressing your head down harder into the grass. You tried to see him, your head pressed to the side so all you saw was the dirt and grass beneath you. Until you heard those boots thudding beside your head again, echoing against the forest floor. When they came into your vision, you panicked, the thick black soles blocking your vision. The figure knelt, the other person holding you down angling your head up to get a clear shot of the man crouching beside your head. “Well, hello.” This voice was lighter, scratchier than the other but not as rough. They were both men though, and large enough to hold you down. 

The man in front of you was odd, something straight out of a movie. He wore a white mask decorated with a face, little holes cut in the eyes so you could see his dark eyes. He glared at you, his brown hair messed in front of his face. You were caught in confusion, your eyes flicking quickly against him as you tried to gather as much about his appearance as you could. The other man gripped your face tight, angling you to look at the sky as the two of them talked. 

“She’s a fast little fucker.” The lower voice growled, nails digging into your cheeks as you began to struggle again. “Hold her steady, don’t let her wiggle out.” The other one commanded, standing and shuffling away. You finally caught sight of the other one, a mustard hoodie pulled over his head, a dark ski mask painted with a red frowning face. Who the hell were these two? They looked like some emo band wannabes and it seriously was beginning to scare you. What in the world were they doing in the middle of nowhere dressed like that? The one with the hoodie was staring right at you, his face covered but his eyes roaming your body. “What the hell are you doing out here anyways?” He gruffed, snapping your camera out of your hands. You gasped, reaching for it but him holding it above your reach.

“I was- ah- taking pictures. Of the sunset. I- I’m a photographer.” You huffed, tears pricking at your eyes as he remained unamused. He ignored your response, looking to the other one who was now dragging your bag towards you two. Zipping your backpack open, they rummaged through your belongings, throwing your supplies out onto the ground carelessly. 

“Damn, so she was the camper out last night.” The lighter voice rang, tossing your sleeping bag onto the ground. Your heart sunk, tears finally spilling over your cheeks. So someone had come to your campsite last night. This was getting worse by the minute. 

“Shoulda just killed her then like I said.” The darker voice growled, throwing your extra pair of socks down too. You sobbed into his hand, your hands clawing against his hand as he refused to let up. The one in the white mask crouched again, staring you directly in the eyes. “Knock her out, bring her back to the cabin.” 

The last thing you saw before you blacked out was the hilt of a gun slamming down against your head, a sharp pain rining before everything went dark. 

-

You had no clue how much time had passed when you awoke, but the sun was low in the sky, the colors of the sunset already spilling against the horizon through the window. The inside of the cabin was warm, a low fire crackling in the fireplace across from you. You glanced around, the inside was just as shabby as the outside, but the furniture inside wasn’t half bad considering you were tied to a table chair. Thick ropes wrapped around your torso, securing you against the back of the chair as you struggled. Your head pounded, a sharp throbbing echoing from the spot the gun made contact with your head. When you fully came to, you heard the loud ring of arguing from somewhere down the hallway, the small cabin doing little to conceal their words.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Masky, that on our only fucking week off some bitch decides to get curious.” The one in the hoodie, you recognized his voice. There was loud stomping, one following the other as they came closer down the hallway. “I say we just kill her, Hoodie, but you always need to interrogate the little shits.” The masked one growled back, the both of them coming into view through your hazy vision. They both glared at you, closing the distance between you as you struggled against your restraints. You could barely breathe as they hovered over you, their intimidating presence making it hard to stay calm. “Ple- Please. I just, ah, got lost. Please.” You gritted, pressing your feet against the floor and pulling against the ropes, but they didn’t budge. Respectively, Masky and Hoodie, their names fitting, leaned closer, basically ignoring that you had even said anything. 

Masky slid away, grabbing your camera off the dining table and sliding it to Hoodie who turned it on. They flicked through the photos, you awkwardly staring as they studied each photo. “Seems like she was just taking photos,” Hoodie grumbled, handing the camera back to Masky as he glared back to you. “Ain’t half bad either.” You flicked your eyes hurriedly between the two, anxiety growing in your stomach as they silently examined your camera and you. There was no reading these guys, their every emotion concealed behind their stupid masks. Were they going to kill you? Over taking some pictures too close to their shitty cabin? What a way to die.

Masky tossed the camera down, you cringing as it scooted onto the table. “Looks like she wasn’t lying. Lucky you.” He grinned slyly, leaning against the table. They both had this bad habit of just looking at you and not speaking like they were communicating in their minds. It seriously freaked you out as you again tried to tug against your restraints. “Just let me go and I swear I won’t tell nobody. I- I’m just tryna take some photos.” You whined, shriveling in on yourself when they pressed closer again. They stood tall, looming above you and just stared. It was impossible not to just squirm under them, their eyes studying every inch of you. Their weird dynamic made you unsure, their personalities so different but complimenting each other perfectly.

Defeated, you hung your head, your head hurting too bad to plead anymore. But when you looked down, you noticed what they were looking at. Your face blushed, eyes widening as you shot your head back up at them. Your shirt was torn to pieces, your bra doing little to hide your tits through the shredded fabric. It must have happened when you were slammed to the ground, the thick underbrush tearing at your clothes before they dragged you back to the cabin. Your cheeks went dark, embarrassment creeping as you tried to hide yourself, but the ropes under your tits pushed them up further. When they noticed your embarrassment, you could hear them chuckle. “Embarrassed, huh? Sorry, Hoodie here isn’t very good about being polite while chasing someone.” He laughed, pressing close to your left, his gaze fitting on your tits. You squeezed your knees together, your stomach tight with embarrassment as Masky stared at you through the mask. 

“Yeah, not very sorry if it meant I got a view like this,” Hoodie grunted, shoving Masky’s shoulder as he pressed closer to your right, leaning his masked face down closer to yours. You glanced quickly between the two of them, unsure of what to do as you felt trapped between two wild animals. Anger ragged at you, your face growing hot. These creepy freaks were perverts too, great. You thrashed against the ropes, kicking your feet forward but Masky held your knees easily. Hoodie gripped your jaw in return, angling your face to look at him as they held you still. “But I’m still not opposed to shooting you.” Masky huffed, digging his nails into your skin. Hoodie laughed, turning your head in his hand to get a better look at you. You struggled slightly, pressing your face against his hand in retaliation. “Feisty.” He smiled. Hoodie’s playful provocations and Masky’s intense gaze made you acutely aware of the charged energy between the three of you.

Masky gripped your knees tight, pushing them down against the chair and sliding his hands to your crotch. He tried to rub his hand against your clothed cunt, but you resisted, wriggling your hips down against the chair. “Don’t be all bratty now. I’m sure Hoodie would love to break that little attitude.” Masky huffed, gripping your legs apart. You whined, Hoodie’s answering grip against your cheeks. You glanced between them, shutting your eyes before sighing. “If I let you… whatever. Are you still gonna kill me afterwards?” You whined, struggling against the ropes one final time. The men glanced between each other, then back to you.”Depends on how good you take us. We’re trying to enjoy our week off of work but you had to just run up on us, huh? You gotta earn your way out of this one.” Hoodie barked, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans when you noticed the slight bulge prodding through. Your cheeks grew dark again, your eyes shutting as you gritted your teeth. “Not my fault you’re squatting in the middle of nowhere.” The hooded man gripped your face tighter, tugging his pants down and letting his large cock spring free, the thick length bobbing in front of your head eagerly. “Then maybe don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Giving the length a few good pumps, he pressed his cock head against your mouth, tapping it against your lips before pulling your jaw down. You glared up at him before sliding your tongue out, flattening against the head. Hoodie’s playful dominance contrasted with Masky’s more forceful desire, their eagerness coaxing you. 

Hoodie grunted, holding your jaw open as he pressed the rest of his length in, your jaw unhinging to fit the sheer thickness of him. Your eyes slammed shut, throat constricting around him as you strangled to breathe. He huffed above you, fist tugging at your jaw as he forced you to begin bobbing on the length. You strained, tongue pressing against him as he fucked into your mouth haphazardly. This was rough, but his tight grunts and moans made your stomach flutter. Masky was quick to wrap his fist around your hair, gripping it tight and tugging your head in time with Hoodie’s thrusts. 

It was becoming difficult to breathe as Masky slid his free hand down in between your thighs and began to unzip your jeans, pressing his hand down underneath. His fingers found your clothed clit easily, rubbing harshly against the bud and waking it up. You grunted hard around Hoodie’s cock, breath catching and ragged as he refused to let up. His large hands were rough on your jaw, forcing it to stay open as his hips thrust into your throat. It was like Masky could read his movements, pulling your hair back or pushing your head forward to match his hips, making Hoodie grunt and moan loudly above you.

Tears pricked your eyes, the need to breathe becoming desperate, but you knew they didn’t care. Masky hands had abandoned your panties and were now under them, rubbing against your bare clit and making your hips jerk. “Ah- Damn. Bitch’s got a damn good mouth.” Hoodie growled, gritting his teeth. Masky just chuckled, sliding his thick fingers down your folds and pressing against your entrance, your stomach fluttering when he pressed the digits inside. You moaned loudly, slobber drooling out the corners of your mouth as Hoodie nestled his cock inside your mouth and refused to move. Your body strained against the ropes, hands gripping the chair as you begged for air, eyes wide and pleading with tears. Hoodie laughed, hands holding your head still and keeping you suffocating on him. Masky was gripping your hair in return, prodding his fingers deep inside of you and watching closely as you choked. 

“Come on now, don’t make the poor thing pass out.” Masky cooed, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gag hard, body straining to moan around the cock. Your head was light, the lack of air getting to you as you choked, eyes growing heavy. Hoodie huffed before he popped out of your mouth, a thick string of slobber still connecting his head to your lips. Pressing your cheeks together, the hooded man chuckled, slapping his glistening cock against your swollen lips. “Nah, she’d be too boring knocked out. I like to watch her submit.” He growled, fisting his length.

You moaned sharply, eyes closing as Masky continued to curl his fingers, drawing noises from your mouth. He slid them out, his fingers glistening with your arousal, holding them up. He let go of your hair, his hand tugging down his zipper and freeing his strained cock. It wasn’t much bigger than Hoodie’s, but your raw throat didn’t make you thrilled to have two large cocks in your face. Hoodie gripped Masky’s wrist, pulling his hand to his mouth as he slid his mask up, barely revealing his mouth. Taking the soaked fingers in his lips, he swirled his tongue around them, reveling in the taste. Masky watched carefully, cock twitching in front of your face until Hoodie popped the fingers out of his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Yum.” He growled, kneeling between your legs and shoving your knees open. As he shoved your jeans down and off your legs, Masky was quick to grip your cheeks and slide the head of his cock into your mouth. However, unlike Hoodie, his hands let go, placing them on his hips as he watched you. “Well?” He grunted, your questioning look evident as your lips stayed wrapped around the head.

Hoodie was pressing your folds apart, his mask still hooked above his nose as do dove in, licking a thick stripe between them. You grunted, flinching as he lapped at your arousal. Masky still watched impatiently, eyes baring into your face. “Told you you were gonna have to work for it. Either get to sucking or I put a bullet there instead.” He grunted, tilting his head.

You furrowed your brows, your anger pooling but soon interrupted by Hoodie’s tongue breaching your entrance and curling. “Fuck you.” Reluctantly, you began to bob your head, chest straining against the ropes to suck as far down as you could. Masky was cocky, a smug expression in his eyes as he watched you slide down as far as you could before choking and retreating. You slipped your tongue around his head, lapping at the precum that pooled out. The tongue in your cunt made it hard to focus, little whines and moans vibrating on the cock in your mouth as your pleasure grew. 

This was all kinds of insane, but your resolve was slowly breaking the further Hoodie’s tongue lapped up into your cunt. You huffed, sucking hard against the head of Masky’s cock and trying your best not to gag. He watched, unamused, very different from the grunts and gasps that Hoodie sported earlier. “You can either gag on it, or I’ll make you. I won’t be as nice as my friend though.” He snarled, smacking you on the face lightly, leaving a little red mark. You huffed, Hoodie still eagerly eating you out, groaning as he fisted his cock between his legs. Reluctantly, you unhinged your sore jaw, your throat pleading not to as you pushed further, throat constricting as his head pushed through. Gagging, your eyes slammed shut, gripping the chair beneath you. Only then did Masky’s face contort, little grunts and huffs of air muffled behind his mask. His nails dug into his hips, shallowly thrusting without showing too much desperation. 

Your cunt was growing strained, Hoodie’s tongue poking and prodding and dragging you closer to your orgasm. Your back arched, choking on Masky’s cock as your orgasm rocked you, your hips desperately stuttering against Hoodie’s tongue. Your walls constricted, Masky shoving his cock deeper as you heard him grunting, warm seed shooting into your throat. It caught you off guard, but as your eyes rolled and cunt throbbed, you mindlessly swallowed the liquid. 

Hoodie pulled his tongue out of your cunt, standing quickly as he pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans. You panicked, fear contorting your face before realizing he was cutting your ropes off, them falling to the floor. “You’re gonna cum on my cock next, sweetheart,” Hoodie growled, gripping your arms and pulling you, hauling you to the couch behind you. You were still panting heavily as he sat on the couch, hauling you onto his lap and straddling his legs. Masky was quick to follow, his ragged pants behind you as he stood behind your back, pressing his chest against your shoulder blades. 

Trapped, Hoodie gripped your hips, cock throbbing under you as he angled himself, nudging his head against your clit. You flinched, sensitivity running through you as Masky ran his hands against your ass, gripping tightly and pulling them apart. Reaching around, he forced his fingers into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick digits. Hoodie gripped your hips down, pressing your entrance open with his thick cock, straining against your sensitive walls. You whined, stretching sharply as he pressed inside, moans stifled by the fingers in your mouth. Pulling back, Masky rubbed his wet fingers against your puckered asshole, your spine instantly straightening as you realized what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t get scared now,” He smiled, sliding the digits against your hole. You gripped Hoodie’s shoulders as he pressed inside, your cunt throbbing as he bottomed out, moaning sharply. At the same time, Masky pressed his middle finger inside of your asshole, a sharp sting ringing through your body. Hoodie pulled your hips up, thrusting you up and down against his length, your hands gripping tight on his shoulders. Masky curled his finger, probing and stretching the tight ring of flesh as he worked you open, soon adding another one. You were overwhelmed, the mix of pleasure and pain sending you reeling with moans, your skin hot to the touch.

“God, you’re so tight. Pussy sucking me in.” Hoodie huffed, nails sharp against your hips as Masky tugged your shirt over your head, free hand kneading your tits. You were whining, head spinning as Masky stretched you open, Hoodie filling you at the same time. “Bet you’ve never been fucked in the ass before, huh? Gonna have you screaming.” Masky cooed against your neck, mouthing against the skin as he fingered your asshole quickly. 

Pulling out, he nudged the cock head against your hole, gripping your waist as he slowly pushed. “Hold her.” He grunted at Hoodie who held you nestled on his cock, hands forcing you to bottom out as he twitched inside of you. As you felt the slow push, you began to squirm, hips jerking forward. Masky nipped at your neck, sliding his tongue up to the back of your ear and nibbling, groaning as the head of his cock pressed through your entrance and popped in, a sharp sting rining you. Crying out, Hoodie began to slowly thrust up again, huffing his pleasure as he watched your face contort. “Looks so good when you’re helpless.” He grunted, your hands gripping his hands around your hips and pulling, begging him to let off. He still held, teeth gritting.

Masky pressed slowly, cursing as your tight ass clamped down, offering him little room to thrust as he rutted against you. He was big, and the stretch was uncomfortable. But as he reached his hand around to rub your clit, your whines turned to strangled moans, Hoodie resuming his devastating pace. 

Before you knew it, they were both thrusting into you, your mixed grunts and gasps echoing through the small cabin. You were overwhelmed, jaw going slack as their hips thrust in time with each other, cocks brushing against the other inside of you. They pressed close against you, Masky’s teeth digging into your skin as his fingers rubbed harshly against your swollen cunt. “Relax, sweetheart, let us just ruin you.” He groaned, hips pressed flush against your plump ass and rutting up, making you whine. 

Their pace was ruining you, for sure. Your eyes roll and jaw slack as you grip tight, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t breathe, air catching in your throat as you cracked a moan. You could feel yourself getting close again, Masky’s fingers working you just right. The sweet mix of pleasure and pain ruined you, gasping hard when Hoodie slammed your hips down. Their pace was becoming ragged as well, hips rutting against you as their groans grew heavy. “Go on, cum all over us, sweetheart.” You whined, their hips heavy and voices rough as you felt that familiar pull spill over. “Oh God, please-”

Your cunt constricted, clit throbbing under rough fingers as you screamed your orgasm. It was dizzying, both holes clamping down and throbbing around the thick lengths as they continued to pound you. Your sensitivity rocked you, hips squirming and tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to claw away from their still brutal pace. 

“Oh don’t go running now.” Hoodie huffed, lifting his hips off the couch and slamming inside, relishing in the way your tightness held him. They both grunted, Masky tangling his hand in your hair and slipping out of your ass, your loud whine making him curse. Hoodie was soon to follow, standing and throwing your back down on the couch, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder above you. You were panting, sweat coating your brow as you watched them fist their cocks in front of your face, their grunts and huffs echoing behind their masks. “Open up.” Masky barked, pressing his cock close to your face.

Fucked out, you obliged, too tired to give up a fight. They groaned, cock heads touching as they came on your flattened tongue, their seed striping across your face. You closed your eyes, squirming as the warm liquid coated your face and their moans became ragged. 

After they settled, your eyes were heavy, blinking calmly as they watched you. Hoodie slid over to the kitchen table, grabbed your camera and flipped it on, laughing as he snapped pictures. Your cheeks were dark, your face fucked out and tired as the flash blinded you. “Looks real good without cum all over you.” He smiled, stuffing his cock back in his jeans as Masky did the same. Masky grabbed your ragged shirt, huffing as he wiped your face clean, your tired eyes making him laugh. “I like you a lot better when your mouth isn’t running.”

You couldn’t be bothered to give a response, just slumping down further into the couch as sleepiness dozed you. The two men chuckled, watching closely as you finally slipped into a very vulnerable sleep.

-

When you stirred, the first thing you were met with was the forest floor, grass tickling your nose. It was light outside, the early morning light slightly blinding your tired eyes. You sat up, looking around quickly but sighing when there was no sign of the men or their freaky cabin. Your backpack was beside you, leaning against the barbed wire fence where you had entered the forest, your camera sat on top. Standing, you grabbed the camera, flipping it on as you quickly looked through the photos. 

You cringed as you looked at the lewd pictures of yourself, embarrassment crippling your face. You were thankful for their mercy, but their bruteness made you groan, your lower region still sore and throbbing. You threw your bag over your shoulders, hopping back over the fence as you made the trek back to your car.

You glanced back one final time, nervously scanning the forest edge, but sighing when you found nothing. 

You got more than you came for, but at least your portfolio would be good.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[saddleups]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 .

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 3k

★ ��𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . drabble , complete. ARTHUR MORGAN X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . pillow humping. dry humping. mating press. cervix kissing. breeding kink. possessive/dominant arthur. explicit dirty talk. mid to low arthur ngl. p_rn w/o plot.

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . .  taking advantage of everything the hotel has to offer. arthur is too busy to notice until you leave him with no choice.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . erm,,,idk what to title this....it's a scrapped scene from honor among thieves. didn't think y/n in that story would allow arthur to be so dominant without any fight tbh. plus i lowkey need a short break from that fic , it was meant to be just pure smut across the board after they finally have sex but i got carried away with the relationship dynamic lmao. so, it'll be delayed and i'll fill the time with short drabbles like this that just didn't make the cut </3

The maid sets a basin of warm water on the vanity in the plush hotel room, the steam rising up and filling the air with a fresh scent. You thank her before eagerly plunging your hands into the water. Forming a puddle in your palms, relishing in its warmth as you splash it onto your face before washing away any traces of makeup and grime from the day. The pigments dissolve into the water, revealing your natural complexion underneath, and you can't help but sigh with relief at finally being able to unwind after a long day.

As you dry off, you replenish your skin with rose water, a sweet scent lingering on your skin, knowing all too well it'd drive him mad. Across the room, Arthur sits by the window with his gaze fixed outside, his gun carefully placed on the wooden table behind him. The quieter type, he leaves you to unwind alone. Stealing quick glances when he needed extra motivation.

In nothing but your chemise, you sink into the plush mattress beneath you with a contented sigh. It's a luxury that you rarely have in your line of work - a cozy hotel bed instead of a hard cot or rough bedroll. The distant sounds of city life drift in through the open window.

You can't contain a giggle as you roll around on the large bed, unintentionally unraveling the sheets in the process. Arthur quickly hushes you from his spot in the chair, lounging comfortably with his long legs stretched out under the table. He takes up more space than he realizes, his broad shoulders tapering down into a lean V shape. You can't help but admire him as he meticulously cleans each of his guns, his calloused hands gently caressing and polishing them until they gleam like new. In that moment, you wish those hands were on your own body instead.

Is he oblivious or just plain stubborn? You couldn't quite tell, but either way, he seems completely focused on his task at hand - oblivious to your half-naked state on the mattress only a few feet away. Your chemise clings to your curves, revealing hints of your allure underneath. Your fingers trace down your stomach and between the valleys of your chest, imagining his rough hands exploring those same areas. You hike your chemise higher, giving him a suggestive glimpse of your bloomers in hopes of sparking that primal desire in him. A gentle breeze brushes over your skin, causing you to moan softly as your hardened nipples strain against the thin fabric.

"You need somethin?" Arthur finally hums, breaking you out of your thoughts. Oblivious or just playing it cool, you can't quite tell. But despite being slightly annoyed at his lack of attention, you couldn't be too upset - after all, the hotel was meant for a mission that ended up lasting longer than expected. And now here he is, diligently keeping guard by the window. Though it's been long enough that you both should be able to relax for the night. But Arthur is always so meticulous and dedicated to his work, even if it means neglecting other desires...like yours. You sigh and continue to explore your body with your own hands, wishing they were his instead.

Without hesitation, you firmly respond with a breathless "no." You refuse to come across as desperate, but deep down, your desire for Arthur burns like a wildfire. You want him to take you and show him what he's been missing. And so, you shift your position once more, sitting up on the bed to face him. Grabbing a spare pillow and placing it between your legs, straddling it tightly while letting out a soft cry. Biting your knuckles, you grind your hips into the pillow, trying to contain your pleasure. But it becomes too much as the bed creaks under your movements and your whimpers grow in volume. Under the impression that you were settling into bed, Arthur pays it no mind until the creaking continues. A slow, continuous rhythm that he'd only heard one place else.

Arthur watches intently as you tease yourself, unable to resist any longer. He sets his guns aside and gives in to the hypnotizing sight of your body moving against the pillow. The fabric stretches over your bloomers as you move agonizingly slow, building up the pressure until you can no longer hold back. Lost in the throes of ecstasy, your eyes lock with Arthur's as he stands up and walks towards you with hunger in his gaze. Your lips part as you whimper and confess your need for him, "Oh Arthur," it sounds orgasmic and it's sending him into a frenzy. He stands above you with his legs slightly apart, feeling his own desire grow within him.

You lean forward and press your face against his clothed groin, leaving open mouth kisses on his covered length. He sucks in a sharp breath and reminds you of his previous question: "I asked if you needed somethin."

But you are too consumed by desire to remember. All you know is that you need him desperately. You continue kissing his clothed cock, wondering if it hurts him to keep it restrained like this. You know he wants you just as badly. The heat of his member radiated even through the fabric. Arthur grips your cheeks tightly and repeats his question with a firmness that sends shivers down your spine. "Answer me, girl."

You tremble as you reach for his thighs, using them as anchors as you grind your hips harder into the pillow. Your fingers dig into the fabric, grasping onto it for dear life. "I need you," you moan.

With a deep and husky voice, Arthur responds, "Dirty girl. Tell me what you need."

Your head is pressed against his lower abdomen, drooling at the thought of him filling you up wherever he pleases. With desperate need in your voice, you tell him exactly what you want: "I need you inside me."

The vulgar praise echoes in your ears, causing a surge of sweat to break out across your body as you ache for him. "I want your cock," you confess with a desperate whisper, your face pressed firmly against his groin. You can feel his heart pounding for you, the fabric of his pants the only thing keeping you from devouring his throbbing member whole.

"What was that?" he taunts, thrusting his hips forward as the length of his shaft slides up your face. A guttural moan escapes your lips, your skin flushed and hot with desire. "All them times you drove me crazy," he begins, gripping the crown of your head tightly against his cock. "Teasing yer'self while I'm trynna work."

"What makes you think I'll pleasure you so easily?" You challenge, looking up at him with pride but feeling an overwhelming need for him. Arthur leans in closer, pushing you down onto the mattress. The pillow between your legs acts as a barrier between him and his cock, you can still feel it pressing against your soaked bloomers, threatening to push inside you. He thrusts with such force that it's instinctual to wrap your legs tightly around his waist. You cry out his name over and over like a sacred chant.

"Yer gonna wake up the entire town if you keep goin' on like that."

"I don't care," you fight back, tears welling in your eyes. You crave him so intensely, it's almost maddening.

He chuckles darkly, "my filthy girl."

The intensity of his possession over you drives you wild with desire. Without warning, Arthur begins dry humping the pillow against your wet opening, soaking through your bloomers and leaving wet marks on the fabric caught between you two. Your jaw clenches so tightly that you fear your teeth might shatter. Desperate to remove the barrier between you, you try to pull the pillow out from between your legs, he stops you with a wicked smile. "Not until I say so, darlin'," he growls, driving you closer to the brink of madness with every rough thrust.

Your fingers claw at his shoulders, desperate to pull him closer as he continues to tease you mercilessly. The friction of the pillow against your most sensitive areas is maddening, bringing you right to the edge but never quite enough. You whimper and writhe beneath him, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. With each movement his groans and grunts join yours, a hushed tone growing more guttural when you retaliated his thrusts. Even more so when you cried his name, begging him to devour you whole.

"Arthur, please," you beg, your voice a breathy moan. "I need more. I need you."

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Patience, darlin'. Good things come to those who wait."

With agonizing slowness, he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing tantalizing glimpses of his broad chest. Your hands itch to touch him, to run your fingers through the coarse hair there, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head with one large hand. His grip on your wrists is firm but not painful, a reminder of his strength and control. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more contact, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

"Now, now," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Be a good girl for me."

With his free hand, he slowly trails his fingertips down your throat, across your collarbone, and down to the swell of your breasts. Your nipples strain against the thin fabric of your chemise, aching for his touch. When he finally brushes his thumb over one hardened peak, you arch into him with a gasp.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He continues his torturous exploration of your body, his calloused fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reaches the hem of your chemise, he pauses, his eyes meeting yours with a wicked glint. Slowly, achingly slowly, he begins to inch the fabric up your thighs, exposing more and more of your flushed skin to the cool air of the room.

You whimper, trying to buck your hips up to speed his progress, but he tuts disapprovingly. "Patience," he reminds you, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Finally, he tosses the pillow aside before he pushes your chemise up to bunch around your waist, revealing your soaked bloomers. Arthur inhales sharply at the sight, his eyes darkening with lust. "Look at you," he murmurs, running a finger along the damp fabric. "So wet for me already."

You moan at his touch, desperate for more. "Please, Arthur," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you so badly."

Arthur's eyes flicker with desire as he watches you writhe beneath him. "Tell me exactly what you want, darlin'," he growls, his fingers teasing along the edge of your bloomers.

"I want you inside me," you gasp, arching into his touch. "Please, Arthur, I need to feel you."

With a low chuckle, he finally relents, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your bloomers and slowly sliding them down your legs. The cool air hits your heated core, making you shiver with anticipation.

Arthur's gaze rakes over your exposed body hungrily. "Beautiful," he murmurs, before lowering his head to press a searing kiss to your inner thigh. You cry out at the sensation, your hands fisting in the sheets as he works his way higher.

When his lips finally reach your aching center, you let out a keening moan, your back arching off the bed. Arthur's tongue delves between your folds, tasting your arousal with a growl of approval. His stubble scratches deliciously against your sensitive skin as he explores every inch of you.

You writhe beneath him, gasping and whimpering as he works you closer to the edge. His strong hands grip your thighs, holding you open for his ministrations. When he sucks your swollen bud between his lips, you cry out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmurs against you. "Let me hear you."

He slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right as his tongue continues its relentless assault. The dual sensations are overwhelming, and you feel yourself hurtling towards release. Your wetness gathering around his fingers, flooding down your thighs, pouring into his mouth like a fountain. "Oh my god, Arthur." You seize your thighs, an odd sensation forming at your center.

"That's it, sweetheart," Arthur growls against your sensitive flesh. "Come for me."

His words are your undoing. Hips buck on his face, that coil tightening finally snaps. You arch forward hand digging into the crown of his head. Your nectar squirts from your core and with a keening wail, you shatter, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. High off the taste of you, Arthur doesn't let up, working you through your climax until you're a quivering, oversensitive mess beneath him.

As you come down from your high, panting and flushed, Arthur rises up to hover over you. His eyes are dark with desire, his lips glistening with evidence of your pleasure. Without warning, he captures your mouth in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is deep and passionate, filled with hunger and need. You moan into his mouth, your hands roaming over his broad shoulders and down his muscled back.

Arthur breaks the kiss, panting heavily. "Gonna take care of ya," he growls, his voice rough with desire. You nod eagerly, spreading your legs wider in invitation. "Please, Arthur. I need you too."

With a fierce determination, he rips off the last remnants of his clothing, revealing a massive and throbbing cock. Arthur's length is like a weapon, thick and girthy with veins pulsing in shades of green and purple. The tip is a deep red, glistening with pre-cum, beckoning you to taste it. You can feel your own desire building as you lick your lips at the sight.

You ache for him to fill you completely, and he knows it. With a devilish grin, Arthur positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock.

"Tell me you need it," he demands, his eyes locked on yours.

"I need it," you breathe, unable to resist any longer. "Please, Arthur. Fuck me."

With a guttural groan, he thrusts inside you in one powerful motion, his coarse hair blending with yours as your bodies meld together. But even this closeness isn't enough for Arthur; he lifts your thighs higher up towards your chest and presses you against him with an animalistic force. Your foreheads press together as he claims you as his own.

"Whose pussy is this?" he growls.

"It's yours!" you scream without shame.

He pounds into you with an unbridled ferocity.

"That's right," he grunts.

And with every thrust, every moan that escapes your lips, you know that you belong to him completely

Arthur's relentless thrusts drive you wild with pleasure, each powerful movement sending shockwaves through your body. You cling to him desperately, your nails raking down his back as you match his irratic rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and Arthur's guttural groans.

"You feel so good, darlin'," he growls in your ear, his hot breath fanning across your flushed skin. "So tight and wet for me."

His words send another jolt of arousal through you, and you clench around him involuntarily. Arthur hisses in response, his hips stuttering for a moment before resuming their punishing pace.

"That's it," he encourages, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub tight circles on your sensitive bud. "Let go for me, sweetheart."

"Please, fill me with your hot cum," you beg, voice trembling with desire.

His lips curl into a smirk as he teases, "You want my cum inside that pretty lil pussy?"

Without hesitation, you nod eagerly and thrust your hips into his with a desperate need. Arthur's composure crumbles as he becomes a moaning mess above you, his sweat dripping onto your face as both of you lose yourselves in the moment. Your mouths hang open, drooling as your bodies move in perfect harmony.

Seizing control, you hold your own thighs up and allow Arthur to press his hands onto the mattress, his weight surrendering on top of you. A gasp escapes your throat as the tip of his cock hits against your cervix, sending electric shocks through your body.

"Yes, give it to me all, Arthur! Fill me up!" You cry out, urging him on as you feel yourself being pushed over the edge. In a frenzy of passion, your tongues tangle together in sloppy kisses as he finally gives in and releases himself inside you. It feels like every inch of your body is on fire, consumed by the intense passion between you.

Arthur's hot, thick cum fills your swollen pussy, and you both watch in awe as he pulls out, leaving a trail of sticky strands that connect the two of you. He playfully slaps the tip of his still-hard cock against your slick folds, eliciting shivers of pleasure throughout your body. With gentle circles and flicks, he teases your throbbing clit, sending electric pulses of desire through every inch of you. Your voice is caught in your throat. Eyes sealed shut as he leans forward, kissing your face so intently.

"You did so good, my sweet girl." Arthur's praises are filled with admiration for you. You lean in and kiss him lazily, still feeling the intensity of it all. "Do you think our neighbors are angry with us?" you ask, your voice strained from the relentless moaning that just moments ago filled the room.

Arthur chuckles, his hand gently stroking your back. "Probably," he replies, "can't deny we gave them quite a show."

Playfully slapping his chest, you sink into his embrace as he wraps his arm around your waist. Resting your head on his chest, you feel comforted by the steady rhythm of his beating heart. Tracing half circles along his abdomen, you look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Should we give them an encore then?" you suggest with a sly smile.

[obxthornton]

Ladylike (Wolverine/Logan x Fem!Reader)

Wolverine X Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N just wants to be a little more "ladylike" for Logan.

Warnings: Cursing, light Dom reader and Sub Logan, Subjective use of what 'ladylike' is. 

WC: 2335

I had never been particularly fond of making myself look nice, especially on missions. Saving the world wasn't for the weak and was definitely not for a full face of makeup. By the end of the day, you would have mascara and eyeliner dripping down your face along with blood. It was simply easier not to get dolled up. Sure when I went out to the bars or to dinner I looked nice. Full faces of makeup were for those kind of things. Fighting and killing, however, not so much.

But here I was, applying mascara to my eyelashes while Wade banged on the door. "Princess, saving the world can't wait for you much longer!" He yelled kindly, but banging on the door again. "And I certainly can wait to piss either." I sighed dropping my makeup back in my bag and unlocking the door. "Thank you peanut," Wade said pressing a kiss to my cheek before pulling down his pants to piss, not waiting for me to leave.

"Woah. Park it fancy fuck." Wade said as I was leaving. I didn't turn around but I did stay in the doorway. Sounds of his urinating filled the bathroom. "What?" I asked rolling my eyes at my roommate.  "You got shit on your face. And not the normal shit. Date night shit. All over. False advertisement right there. And your tits our out. Mind telling me who you got all dolled up for?" Wade flushed the toilet and I walked out of the room, him following. "Drop it asshole," I said zipping up my suit higher and grabbing my guns from the counter, making sure the clips were full and stuffing them in my side holsters. I grabbed my knives next, checking them over.

Last week Wade and I had spent long hours discussing the housing arrangement if I were to get a partner. "What do you mean a partner? What's wrong with me? Your sexual, emotional, and fighting partner?"  I rolled my eyes at his words, "Shut the hell up Wade, you'll scare all my options away." Wade had scoffed and motioned around the room, "Wolvie isn't here, you are fine. Besides, you're scaring him away yourself." I narrowed my eyes at the man, my arms crossed. "What the hell do you mean?" Wade simply shrugged, kicking his feet as he sat on the couch. "Wolvie wants a lady, not some killer who will keep him on a leash for all of eternity." I used my foot to kick his leg, "I am a lady!"  Wade shrugged, "Only where it counts. You are a dominant entity and that's okay!! I'm very much into that. Logan likes a nice ladylike woman." I told him to shut up, but his words stuck a little more than I had hoped.

The door to our apartment swung open revealing a pissed off man. A pissed off man who looked at me and shoved a finger in my face. "You take too long." He stated. My eyes were big staring up at the man. Logan had become my weakness lately, a weakness I didn't even know I had. I was always bossy and blunt, never taking a liking to trying to impress or be giddy around a man. But Logan. It was like I couldn't help but never know what to say. My mouth went dry and my heart sped up and I'm sure he could hear it. It was only him. He was the only exception. I snapped out of it, pushing his finger away with a knife, "Cool it Wolv boy."

"She was getting all ladylike for you. That's why she took so long," Wade said behind me. I turned around and plunged the knife into his stomach. "Shut the hell up, Wade," I muttered twisting it lightly. "Aren't you just a kinky Son of a gun? A little longer of this and I'll probably cum."  I rolled my eyes and pulled the knife out, wiping it on my suit. "I hate you," I muttered. "Oo that's the spot." Rolling my eyes once again I turned back to Logan, shoving my knife in the strap. "Come on."

Wade knew about my soft spot for Logan. The day that we had encountered him, Wade had introduced himself and I stayed silent, eyes wide. Wade had wrapped his arm around my shoulder, "Lots of knocks to the head. She may be immortal but she still has a lot of scaring up there. She goes by Y/N, and you'll love her once you get over the hatred in her heart-" I cut him off by pushing his arm off, turning around slowly, and death glaring at Wade. "My time to stay quiet." He mumbled, sighing, and walking away. Logan had looked down at me, smiling, "If you can make him shut up like that every time, we'll get along just fine." 

I walked out the door, not seeing if the boys were following. I let out a sigh of relief to avoid an awkward situation. I silently cursed myself however for stabbing Wade, that wasn't very ladylike. I suddenly became aware of my body. Was any of it ladylike? Was my ass big enough, was my waist thin enough. I had never once in my life worried about any of this stuff. Never in my life had I ever felt insecure or uncomfortable in my skin. I mean I never had to, Wade kept the compliments flooding for miles. Always pushing that boundary of workplace harassment. 

"Pissed isn't a good look on you with all that cake on your face." Wade's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I didn't turn to look at him, but sent my fist out, punching him in the cheek. "Ow princess. That's not very nice. Or ladylike in front of Wolvie over there." I stopped in my tracks and turned to Wade, pulling my knife out of my pocket and showing him against the brick wall next to us. I held the knife up to his face, my forearm against his throat. "You need to shut the fuck up about all of this! If I hear one more goddamn word about any of this I swear I'm going to make you wish you could die, you hear me?" I yelled at the boy, shoving him deeper and deeper into the wall. I could practically see Wade's smile under his mask. It pissed me off. I shoved my knife into his chest before I was ripped away from him.  "What the hell has gotten into you today?" Logan yelled shoving me away from Wade. I was aware of everything again. If it was anyone else, anyone else, I would take them on and slice them up. But this was Logan.  His eyes pierced my soul and his face was daring, asking me to punch that look right off of him. But I didn't, "get out of my way," I huffed pushing past him.

-

The day had been long. I desired to go back to my room and take a shower, washing off the sin of today. Blood and dirt caked into my skin and on my suit, the black color speckled with red. I had tuned out Wade's comments or he had stopped saying them, I wasn't sure. 

When we got back to the apartment, Wade pushed past me and Logan, causing us both to stumble. "Dibs on shower!" He yelled racing into the bathroom and locking the door as if we would try to fight him for it. I sighed knowing I was too tired to do such a thing. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top cabinet in my kitchen before going over the couch and stretching over it. I flicked off the cap, sending it flying to the other side of the room before I put the bottle lip to lips and took a long sip. I felt the alcohol seep into my system, making my wounds feel a tad better. 

Logan came over and looked at the side of the couch displeasingly before he pushed my legs off and sat down. I moved my legs back on top of his lap and took another sip of the bottle before passing it to him. He pushed my legs off of him with one hand as he brought the bottle up to his lips. "No." He stated. I sighed and sat up. "So what's actually up with you?" He asked out of the blue. I grabbed the bottle from him and took a long sip. "Nothing," I said defensively. Logan rolled his eyes, "I may be old, but I'm not stupid. You've been letting shithead get on your nerves a lot more these days." I shrugged and poured more of the liquid into my mouth. "He annoying." Logan chuckled, "Yes I know." He grabbed the bottle back and leaned on the couch arm, spreading his legs. "Come on. We can't have you like this. What's in that head of yours?" 

I sighed praying that the alcohol would seep into my bloodstream. "He's been saying I need to be more ladylike," I muttered looking down at my spread legs before crossing them. "Who the hell cares about that?" Logan said as if that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. "I've been on this earth for 150 years. And not once, not once have I ever cared about what a man thinks about me." I said, taking a long sip from the bottle, "but then I met you. And suddenly I cared about everything. I cared about how you perceived me because for some reason you're perfect. Some fucked up joke it is. Never caring about what men thought of me because they were just so inferior and mortal." I chuckled and drank out of the bottle again, "Yet you, you're just like me. Stuck with this curse of caring forever. And I'll drink to that." 

Logan shook his head and grabbed the bottle before it hit my lips, "you aren't making any sense y/n." I groaned and leaned my head back, "You're hot Logan! You're hot and you fuel all my daddy and abandonment issues. Is that what you want me to say? It's gods sick joke that you made me for me down to the T of even being fucking immortal, yet we won't be together." Logan scoffed. Scoffed. As if what I said was completely unheard of and a challenge. "Why not?" His voice filled with anger as if I had just spoken insane claims. "Because lo, I know your type. Your type is not the girl who could kill you, it's the girl that says yes sir and has you dinner made for when you get home." 

He scoffed at those words and stated defensively, "Stop acting like you know me. you know nothing about me y/n." I rolled my eyes at him, grabbed the knife from my belt, and leaned over Logan. I pressed the knife against his throat and looked at him, my legs around his waist as I did. "Come on Logan." I said "This is not attractive. This is not the kind of person you want to get with." I huffed pressing the knife lightly against his skin. Logan's eyes pierced into mine, his hands resting on my back as if to hold me still. One hand reached up and placed it on top of me, pushing the knife deeper into his neck. "Everyone is attracted to you bub." Logan said narrowing his eyes lightly at me."You think everyone is joking when they say things like that because of Wade's fucked up humor, but he's not even joking when he says those things to you." A smirk covered his face, "Wade would fuck you in a heartbeat. Anyone would bub." His eyes narrowed at me lightly. "The knife's cute. You stab Wade all the time with it. It's like you forget I can regenerate too."

It felt like I didn't even drink half a bottle of whiskey because I suddenly realized what was happening. I was straddling the Wolverine with one of his hands on my ass and the other pushing the knife into his neck. "You are crazy Logan." He cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled, "What's crazy is you think you aren't attractive for being strong. Being powerful. This. This is sexy." My eyes were wide, "what did you just say to me?" I asked, trying to move my hand away from his throat and my legs off of him, but his grasp around me stayed firm. His eyes stared up at me, "You are so strong and powerful y/n, it's so hot." Logan said, "I can't be worried if my girl going to be killed or hurt because she can't defend herself. I need someone like you. I need you." He finally let go of my hand and I let it fall to his chest. "oh yeah?" I cooed at the man as I leaned my head down. Logan bit the top of his bottom lip, a smile coming across his face, he nodded. I brushed my bottom lip over his top, smiling lightly. Logan leaned his head up, capturing his lips in mine. Deepening the kiss, I grabbed the back side of his neck, pulling him into me. His stubble burned against my face, it felt so good.

"Are you guys done yet? That was so nice to watch. Needed after a long shower." Wade said, a towel wrapped around his torso and his head. I threw my knife across the room, letting it impale Wade's chest. He looked down at it, flicking it. "Not ladylike Ms. y/n." I rolled my eyes at his comment. He smiled and walked away towards his room. "Asshole," I muttered under my breath. His head popped back over the corner, "ladylike." He said. I threw my other knife straight at where his face was, he screamed but he moved out of the way, leaving it to stick in the wall. Logan smirked, "cute."

[roseyodditea]

Shooting Practice - Boothill x gn! Reader

Summary -> Cowboy teaches you how to shoot.

Warnings -> Mentions of a gun (no actual violence)

A/N -> Fun fact, this is the first thing I've ever posted. Created an account just for this. Feedback and suggestions welcome! I'll figure out how to format better later lmao

***************

“Hold it steady” The deep southern drawl rang gently right next to your ear, his metal hand cold against your wrist. “Back up and let me do it myself,” You try to not grit your teeth, the cowboy once again far too… overbearing.

Boothill let out a scoff of annoyance, watching you hold the gun shakily in your hand, but he did back up, crossing his arms. You stood with your legs far too close together, arms too overextended, aim entirely off. It was abysmal to watch for the gunslinger. There was a sharp crack in the air, followed by your groan of frustration. 

You placed the gun down on the table in front of you, taking off the hearing protection that hugged your head too tightly. Boothill chucked, “Told ya s-” “Don’t.” You glared at the man, that stupid cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe you’re just an awful teacher.” Boothill stepped close, grabbing his spare pistol off of the table and slipping it into your hands again. “Nah. C’mon. Let’s try again” He stood behind you, too close yet again. The smell of motor oil, gunpowder, and the cheap cologne attempting to cover up the stench of the oil invaded your nostrils. “Feet shoulder width apart” He says, waiting for you to adjust your stance.

“You don’t have to go through the steps so slowly” You practically growl, frustrated.

“I’ll stop goin’ so slow when you get it right” He growled right back, matching your less than thrilled energy.

“Don’t sass me while I’m holding a gun, Boothill.”

“We both know I’m quicker, sugar” He chuckled. “Feet shoulder width apart, shootin’ foot back, relax, and don’t lock your elbows” He guides rather gently for a man you’ve watched gun down IPC without a second thought. “Eyes on the target, deep breath, and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.” You took a moment to go through the checklist. Feet apart, dominant foot back, relaxed… Boothill’s hand on your waist, making sure your torso wasn’t turned. You could feel the chill of the metal, hear the crackling of his synthetic voice box, his body breathing out of habit rather than a need. He was paying very close attention to your stance, and you could feel it. You could feel his gaze, his crosshair eyes locked onto you. “Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” You sigh out through clenched teeth.

“Take the shot.” That was the only answer you were going to get out of him as he didn’t listen, only kept looking at you expectantly. 

There was a crack, followed by a clink, the empty beer can that was setup on the table being knocked over.

“Oh my god! I did it!” You placed the gun down and excitedly turned to Boothill, who had a huge grin on his face. Without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around the cowboy who you had spent the last half hour trying not to slap. It only took a split second of hesitation before he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Can’t believe you actually hit it.” He teased, chuckling softly.

“Just be proud of me.” You plead softly, resting your head on his metal chest, feeling it grow slightly warmer, the once quiet hum of cooling fans getting louder.

“With a stance that fudgin’ shaky I’m shocked you-” “Boothill!” You smack his chest, the soft sound echoing in his chest compartment. His hands move to rest on your hips as he smirks at you.

“Fine fine… I’m proud of you, sugar.” He says in a shockingly genuine tone. “We can work on makin’ you a bit quicker in the future. You take that long linin’ up your shot and you’ll end up dead.” You didn’t respond. You didn’t want to. You were so used to the cowboy being loud and brash, but now he was being soft and caring… borderline tolerable, a new record for the man. Boothill always said he was a dead man walking, but right now he seemed more alive than ever. 

“Thank you for doing this.” You said after a long beat of silence, a slight crackle in your voice as you tried to swallow the emotions you thought you were so good at hiding. 

“Of course.” He replies just as softly. “I want to make sure you’ll be alright when I’m out on bounties” “You say that like you’re going to come back.” You scoff, trying not to make it sound like you wanted him to. 

Boothill looked away, swiping a hand down his face and letting out a breath, adjusting his hat before looking back into your eyes. “Well… this planet is out of IPC space and has good liquor. Pretty easy to hitch a ride to and from. And it has you.” He adds on, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t hung up on the word ’you’. 

“I’d like for you to come back.�� You confess and before you can even take a moment to process the words either of you had just said, cold lips were on yours, metal hands on either sides of your face, the cooling fans in his cyborg body spinning impossibly faster as he pulled away, looking at you in shock.

“I think I’d like to come back to you, sugar”

***************

[derangedanomaly]

Ever saw one of those dark powerful woman?

Like tall, beautiful, dark, dominate slightly degrading yeah that, Reader is that type of women and a mob 'wife' coming from a very famous company and does dirty business too but of course she's elegant with that and all, she doesn't like sharing period, Girl boss at it's finest

YES!! Love this.

MASTERLIST

BAD SANSES X MOB WIFE READER

Warning: suggestive, mentions of weapons, suggestive remarks towards the reader

NIGHTMARE:

He might appear calm, but underneath it all, he's just screaming in his head.

His horny buttons are going OFF

He seriously loves, and I mean- LOVES dominant people.

Nightmare often tries to appear to the others that he's the one that wants to dominate in relationship, and while that's partly true... He gets more hot at the thought of someone dominating him.

Let's be honest, a truly normal, wise person would never even THINK about going against Nightmare, unless he wants to die. So having someone actually DOMINATE Nightmare? That's a turn-on for him for sure.

He overall thinks he truly found his soulmate when he meets you. It's like it was fate! (Now he's just getting head over heels for you)

Oh, but he doesn't associates with you because he's madly in love with you! That's a total NONSENSE. he's doing it for his own gain of course. (He's just lying his ass off.)

One thing he probably doesn't like very much is how much manipulative you are. And it's not because he thinks it's "very bad and cruel". It's because you RIVAL him.

Like, he's supposed to be the most manipulative one here, not you! He'll kinda see this as a competition to be even MORE manipulative..

You can just consider yourself as done for, since he practically "claimed" you the moment you walked into the room.

KILLER:

"Mommy? Sorry.. mommy? Sorry... Mommy? Sorry-" and this goes on and on and on.

He loves dominative people, so he'll probably feel like he's in heaven the moment he sees you.

He thinks you're so cool actually. He can't help but stare at you mid-battle, just to see you elegantly cut someone's head open. He's literally foaming at the mouth.

Likes sneaking off, just to talk to you. You think he's so cute trying to get every chance he can just to talk to you.

He flirts with you. A lot.

One time, tried to borrow your pen and you almost broke his hand.

Will never forget that.

Doesn't like the fact that you don't share. HE JUST WANTS TO BORROW (add an item) FROM YOU??! Lmao, he's so frustrated.

You can command Killer anything, and he'll do it. No questions asked.

He's the subbiest sub the world has ever seen.

I'm dead serious when I say, that he'll do literally anything for you. All you have to do is ask.

DUST:

Tries to be respectful.. like....REALLY tries, but it's just so difficult with you.

He can't help but act like a wild dog around you.

You're just so amazing...

Likes the fact you're in a mafia. Reminds him of mafiatale Sans. (He gets along with him pretty well)

Please show him some tricks! He'd literally love it.

Likes your gun collection. (Probably gonna steal borrow one or two)

Please degrade him. He'll be on his knees. (Literally)

Would love to go on missions with you. He literally loves it.

Sometimes has trouble focusing when on missions with you. He just can't keep his eyes off of you.

Dust is anything but a shameless whistler. So there's like an 85% chance that he won't object you in such way. (Such as Killer and Nightmare)

He's the definition of women respecter.

After you two get together, he'll probably just wait until you're comfortable with doing anything suggestive with him. He's so patient too. 😭

He loves kisses. He won't complain if you decide to smother him in kisses ;)

HORROR:

He likes the fact that you're slightly taller than him. He doesn't have to look down. (Finally)

He immediately compares your position to Mafiatale Sans, and asks you if you're somehow associated with him. (It's your choice if you want to be)

Will probably refrain from objectifying you like Killer and Nightmare. He actually doesn't really like it. (He's just jealous)

He'll probably scold Killer for his behavior towards you. He doesn't care that Nightmare is his boss, he will scold him for making these crude remarks towards you. (This will bring him trouble 💀)

"It's...no wonder...that you're...'single'.." <- saying that to Killer. (Goddamn though 💀)

He's like a giant teddy bear towards you.. if asked, he'd do anything you ask for. And more.

I swear, it's like he's not even affected by your beauty. Though that's not entirely true. He has some thoughts...but tries to not act on them.

Show him how you do your dirty work! He's gonna love it, I can promise you that.

The only way I can really describe your relationship, is that he doesn't want anything happen to you x you can handle yourself.

He'll probably try to protect you a lot. From what? He doesn't know, but still does it.

[grimesgirll]

heyy could you write Negan smut, with them both fighting for dominance while they fuck, taunting each other; Maybe because they known each other before the apocalypse so she isn’t as intimidated by Negan like the rest.

you have to be the hottest thing he’s seen in quite sometime.

negan, simon, and dwight had heard the gunshots from your shotgun and stumbled upon you; all alone, fending off a few dozen walkers.

simon had insisted that they leave and not risk their safety for “some broad”, and negan was on board until he realized that wasn’t just any broad - it was you.

the three cut through the horde of walkers at negan's insistence. braving bloated corpses and trudging over the trampled isn't a simple feat - even with guns. minutes pass until you're finally face to face. half dazed, you did a double take once your eyes suddenly met the disgraced gym teacher's.

then you hit the ground.

when you woke up, mr. smith was there. you were shocked to see him and even more surprised to learn that he was the leader of an up and coming survival group.

“what about your wife?” you’d asked. “mrs. smith is really cool.”

made slightly dramatic by age, the pained twist of the former faculty's face has you regretting your question.

mrs. smith was really cool.

mr. smith had once been too. kind as well. negan is looks cool, and you can't deny that there's a cult of personality that can't be beat with him. not kind though.

no, you'd learned your first week that the gym teacher who had once teased you about college partying on the playground was now a certified psychopath. as a teaching assistant and faculty shadow at the school, you'd befriended negan easily. the two of you pulled off witty banter as you dropped the kids off for gym, even accepting invitations to join the day's activity.

mr. smith was no more and negan's now burning faces off. you'd seen that. just like you'd seen the floggings, the beatings, the spankings, and even the wall. waking up one day to see the nurse you'd grown fond of outside wandering as a walker was enough for you to tweak.

“what did she do?”

negan looks up from a map of northern virginia to grin at you. “hey, doll! what’s goin’ on?” he kicks his feet up on the desk. “don’t see much of you around here.”

“yeah, because i can barely get by your goons.”

he shrugs. “seems like you got up here just fine.”

you’d sideskirted fat joey when he left his post to top off his dr. pepper. it was easy enough to walk your way to negan’s office to confront him.

“why is the woman who trained me walking around the front yard as a zombie?” you question, not breaking eye contact with the smirking leader. “what could she have done to deserve that?” you let out an exasperated breath, reigning it in with another deep umhals before asking, “don’t you think that’s fucking extreme?”

if negan softens, you really can’t tell. all that comes from the man is a laugh. “you mean the nurse who was planning on robbin’ us all blind and hightailing it with nearly all of our narcotics?”

you don’t even have the care to gawk at him. “could she not have been rehabilitated?”

he scoffs at you. “once an addict, always an addict.”

a sudden wave of dread comes over you, and for a moment you think it may be your lunch coming back up but one look at your former fellow faculty member and you know it’s purely disgust.

“she was my friend!”

“you’ll make more!”

“she was my only friend here,” the words croak out of your mouth.

negan just chews on his lip and shrugs. “sorry, honey, you’ll just have to start bein’ friendlier then.” a smirk spreads across his leather-like, aged face. “might have to drop the whole resting bitch face.”

you’re fuming. the column of rage growing from your belly pangs with no place to go. “for you freaks?”

your outburst has fat joey huffing and puffing his way through the threshold of the door.

“everything, okay, boss?” the grunt looks from your red face to his relaxed leader. “sorry bout’ her. she shouldn’t be up here.”

negan waves a hand. “don’t worry about it, joey. i can handle her.”

joey nods when a “handle me?” is flying from your mouth and negan just shoots him a cheeky grin.

“let me walk you back down there, doll.” negan insists.

when he rises from his desk, you realize how he towers over you, something you’d never clocked despite how often you two had been in close quarters back at school. you’re glaring up to meet his dark eyes - the ones that glint in the light like he hadn’t subjected a young woman to the most gruesome death - not including her life after death.

“this way, you,” negan is shepherding you with a hand on your back and all you can do is grumble as you pass his lazy goon.

once the two of you are in the hallway, you slap his hand off of him. “don’t touch me,” you sneer.

he chuckles. “whatever you wish, princess, just stop interrupting me from my important shit with your emotional shit, ‘kay?”

you shake your head. “what would mrs. smith think of all this? surely you don’t think you’re in the right. your wife would’ve hated this.”

negan gestures to the empty, desolate stairwell the two of you are descending. “she look like she’s here?”

“doesn’t matter. what happened to your morals?” you spit, stopping in your tracks to turn and face the taller man, standing on a higher step so that you’re both at eye level. “you were a school teacher.”

“yeah, and you would’ve been dead if we hadn’t brought you in.”

“so i should be happy with the freak show you’re putting on here?”

the expressive leader throws his arms out to motion to the compound. “look around, it’s bread and circuses!” he says simply. “you work, you get a bed, and a safe place to live.” a devious expression overtakes his countenance. “and a show!”

“i hate it here.” you declare nastily.

he snorts. “you hate not being in control, and all the safe little assurances we had before. things are different now.”

“no,” you counter, face coming closer to his. “you’re different now.”

“gotta be to survive nowadays, darlin’, now hurry it up. you need to get back to stitchin’ up my men so they can go out and bring you back ravioli, morphine, soap, toilet paper, all that shit you’re bitchin’ about having.”

“you’re a psycho,” you huff at him as he ushers you down the stairs, another level, and the familiar way towards the infirmary.

“you’re just not adjusted yet. just stick to changing bedpans and we won’t have a problem,” negan instructs with a hand on your back again.

you brush him off once you two have entered the sterile, white infirmary where doctor carson is talking quietly with one of negan’s goons.

“what’s goin’ on here, doc?” negan questions, startling the two.

negan’s man is pale - and sweating buckets. the doctor stands from his bedside to face negan.

“hello, negan, we were just finishing up.”

“finishing up what?”

the pit in your stomach grows when you notice the sickly man on the bed scurrying to fold the fabric of his shirt back over his stomach. the doctor has a pokerface but you didn’t need them to answer to know what was going on.

“what’s goin’ on, dan? feelin’ alright?” negan doesn’t give the doctor a chance to answer before he’s next to his commissioned scavenger, towering over him now.

dan nods. “feelin’ fine. just scraped up and tired as hell after gettin’ back from carolina.”

“i bet!” that loud voice booms throughout the room. “mighty long trip that was. thanks again, man.” the clap to dan’s back from his leader almost has him buckling. “but you don’t look so good, bud. got something to tell me?”

“negan-,” the doctor starts but he’s quickly silenced by a simple raise of the leader’s hand.

“nope, doc. i wanna hear it from dan here.”

the man’s nervous eyes flicker from doctor carson and to you. you want to crumple where you stand. though his eyes are pleading, there’s nothing you can do. only manage your growing disgust as you watch negan reach for his sidearm.

then negan does something that surprises you, he leans down to embrace the man in a hug.

“thank you, it was just a long trip.” dan’s bumbling, but negan shushes him.

“don’t worry bout’ it, dan.”

that’s when the bullet departs the chamber and implants itself in dan’s brain.

the man who’d just been alive slumps down and falls onto the newly bloodied bedsheets. the white wall behind him is sprayed with brains and chrome. the salt and pepper haired leader stands from the bed and yawns, stretching as if he wasn’t leaving a mess of blood and trauma for you and the doctor to clean up and process.

“back to work. keep an eye on her, doc.”

“negan, you sick fuck.”

this time, negan’s holding his council and heatedly harping on gregory.

the man lets out an exasperated breath. “who the fuck wasn’t watching the door?”

his legion of doom is bewildered to see the sullen nurse standing in the doorway. dwight’s apathetic as always, but is the first to offer to escort you out while simon’s telling gregory to “shut the fuck up” and laura’s looking at you as if no one could be more annoying as to drag this meeting on.

“joey!”

one shout and you hear heavy footsteps thudding down the hall. breathing raggedly, the guard wraps himself around the doorway and drops his sandwich at the sight of you.

“so sorry, boss. she really sneaks in!”

the older man just shakes his head. “don’t let it happen again or gregory gets it.”

laughter erupts from the room. everyone at the table is dropping their dauntless demeanor as if on cue. the only one not laughing is gregory of course.

“negan, listen-,”

“ah!” negan interrupts him, straining against his leather jacket when he turns his body towards him. “you shut it! i hate having my shit interrupted, and i hate having supply drops interrupted far more than meetings.” he directs his attention from the man from hilltop back to you. “why don’t you just take a seat, honey? we’ll be done soon.”

you shake your head. “i’m not trying to stay here any longer than i have to. i need this sorted out now.”

“if you wanna talk, doll, you’ll have to wait your turn. i’m talking to gregory right now.”

“i don’t even want to talk to you.”

he exhales flippantly. “then why are you here? interrupting my important meeting.”

“i came for my shotgun.”

negan chuckles, crossing his arms. “you think you’re gettin’ that thing back? after the mood you’ve been stirring up here?”

you do your best to ignore the way he’s laughing and dismissing you or how he’s manspreading all over the chair he’s parked in.

“i need my stuff now. i’m leaving tonight.”

it’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room. you can see negan’s jaw tighten in real time, and the room stiffens. waiting for a reaction is half the angst but you don’t have time for it. don’t even want to defend your decision, especially in front of everyone here.

“out!”

chair legs scrape against the ground as some of negan’s senior partners in psychopathy begin to egress.

gregory is just looking flabbergasted. “but we had a meeting?”

“everyone, out. now!”

all it takes is a “negan doesn’t like to repeat himself” and dwight is shuffling gregory out of the room, simon taking up the rear.

“see you soon, hun’,” he taunts to you.

you don’t have enough time to process his words because he’s shutting the door behind you and probably mentally rescheduling this meeting. you could care less.

“enough, negan smith.” he blinks at the full name callout. “i want my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair. you won’t have to worry about me.”

negan’s off his feet again and sitting on top of the table now. he points to the chair next to the head. “sit.”

“i don’t want to sit.” you insist. “i already told you, i don’t want to talk, i want to go.”

“yeah, well we’re gonna talk first, so sit your ass down.”

you don’t want to spend anymore time in this nutjob factory than you have to but you want your shotgun back. so you walk across the room and you stand at the chair.

“what do you have to say to me?” you inquire.

“god, look at you!”

you roll your eyes.

“a few weeks after getting your life saved, getting your needs taken care of and you’re ready to go back to that?”

“i don’t want to be at your constant mercy.” you say plainly. “not that you can really call it mercy.”

with every retort from him being a laugh, your patience is growing thin. he snickers upon seeing your frown. “so, you want to take your chances out there instead of taking a little time to let me help figure out your problem?”

you throw up your hands. “figure out my problem? i came to you to help figure out my problem and you said to just deal with it. to ‘adjust’. well, i can’t. i can’t live like this. it’s not humane.”

“yeah, and it’s humane out there?”

“better than bitching in here.”

“well, i think i can help with that. won’t be getting your shotgun back.”

“oh, so you can’t help at all?” you snap.

he whistles. “never said that.” his eyes drop from your gaze down your torso to your thighs. he pats the table next to him. “come sit on the table.”

“no. i want to go. now.”

“alright then.”

“negan!”

you exclaim when he scootches off the table to scoop you up by your legs and middle and plop you down.

“let doctor negan see if he can help.”

“what are you-,”

“ah! look at that.”

“ah!”

the sudden sensation of a finger against your denim covered cunt has your face flushing and red. “been touched there in a while, honey?”

“just give me my shotgun,” you breathe, desperately trying with your eye contact to communicate that things aren’t going the way you expected.

“let me give you some reprieve, clear your head, and then we can see if you still want your shotgun.”

you shake your head as he starts pulling down your pants. “you think your wife would be okay with this?”

“she here?”

you curse yourself for giving him such an easy answer. you curse yourself for not doing anything other than pouting and wiggling once he’s at your waistband. you curse the little wet spot soaked though your underwear even more.

“god, i knew confrontation would get you wet.”

“so you planned this?”

the older man shakes his head, taking another moment to fully lock eyes with you, even as he towers over you on the table. “no, i’m thinking that we both walked into this.”

maybe you shouldn’t have walked in, you ponder as negan walks your undies down your thighs with his fingers and walks them right back to your dripping center. the hair you have down there is already slick, a damp curtain pried open by negan’s thick fingers.

“shit,” you rasp when a finger braves the pool of anticipation that’s only growing and delves further against your inner walls.

“want me stop there?” the fucker’s finger stills inside of you and the other dancing just above your clit comes to a halt.

you don’t respond, just lock eyes with negan and try to catch your breath. “that’s not fair,” you point out in a voice just above a whisper. “can’t stop now.”

“or can i?”

you shake your head. “don’t.”

maybe clearing the tension that’s been building like a twentieth century skyscraper inside of you will sort you out. or you could just say fuck it. the world’s ended anyways.

negan surely fucks a finger stationed inside of you back and forth. twisting and testing the waters before adding another. the extra finger curls inside you deliciously while he utilizes another to play around your clit.

the attention he’s paying to your once undisturbed nether regions is enough to have you creaking and moaning like an old door hinge and hinging forward into negan. he’s quick to let you fall forward into his arms. the sudden acceptance is all he needs to speed up.

“i know that feels good, honey.”

“mhmm,” you murmur into his shoulder.

there’s a spot inside of you that he’s massaging just right and another on your exterior; an x doesn’t need to mark the spot for him to rile up your clit. slow, lazy circles have you grinding against him on the table. how can you bemoan him when he’s about to pull the perfect release from you?

you know that because your breath is picking up again and you’re blubbering into his sturdy shoulder. those motions are telltale. mrs. smith’s memory hasn’t kept this man celibate.

the widower has his hand on your back again and the hand beneath you has its own task. the task at hand is executed with more skill than any boy you’d ever fooled around with in college or anyone who came after - not that there were many given how things had gone. you’d like to think that if shit hadn’t hit the fan, you would’ve settled down with someone like mr. smith but younger. this would have to do.

“clenchin’ so tight just around my fingers, baby. you always had the hots for me?”

you shake your head no truthfully. “this is the hots?”

“you feel hot down there baby, and my are you hot.” he lands the compliment with a kiss. you lean in, letting his tongue slip into your mouth because you’re too occupied with the build up brewing inside of you.

one glance down between you two and you see his fingers pumping. your heart rate jumps when you see the addition of another and now you’re being stretched out on his fingers on this table.

“god, you’re gorgeous. what a sweet little thing to have fallen into my lap.”

you curl further into his lap, legs now around him and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. all he has to do is curl his fingers and you’re yowling. “mhm, they’re deep.” you say, brain just observing.

“too deep?”

“no.”

thus, they plunge further. until the extra finger on the outside is stirring up more than your slick and heat courses through you. you shudder against negan but that doesn’t stop his routine. the shape of his fingers change inside of you and you’re bucking against him to feel each one.

“fuck, i’m gonna come,” you don’t want to say it out loud but you do anyways.

“on my fingers?” negan sniggers. “you poor thing. c’mon now, i know it must’ve been a while.” he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit. “just let go, honey, it’ll help.”

and it does.

letting your lizard brain take the lead is all you need for your mind to go blank. if even for a second, it releases the anxiety and the anger that’d consumed you. you pulse and clamp down around his digits until suddenly he’s not moving at all but you’re rotating your hips against him.

riding out such a feeling, you blink the tears out of your eyes and do a double take once you notice negan removing his fingers and starting on his belt.

“what’re you doing?” you question, pussy still pulsing with a mind of its own.

“if you thought that helped you relax, this will put you to sleep. no more sleeping pills for you, darlin’.”

“how did you know about that?”

“doctor carson doesn’t keep secrets from me. he didn’t need to tell me you weren’t adjusting well either.” negan states matter-of-factly, then dropping his blue plaid boxers.

you’re not sure how you’re going to adjust to the sight you’re met with. the cock in front of you is larger than any you’ve ever seen before. if negan’s fingers had you losing it, this thing will ruin you.

“i don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you admit when his hands land on your hips.

the distance between your needy bare entrance and his thick dick is only inches now. you shudder at the longing that’s whipping you and your thoughts around. you moan when he slides his hard, veiny cock against your entrance, slapping it against you once for good measure.

“nope, you’re tougher than you think.”

you meet his eyes again as if to question him. sure, he feels good against you but this is next level. better than fiction but what would happen after you both got your orgasms out of the way?

there’s no time for you to speculate because his lips are on yours again and you feel him lining himself up against you. “you want me to fuck all those fears out of your head, honey? you wanna feel good?”

how can you say no to that?

one nod of your head and his tip is teasing you. it takes you telling him, “please, put it in. i want it,” and then he’s plunging inside.

your face scrunches as a little burn becomes prominent from his size, but he kisses the lines away from your face. your temple, your nose, your lips, your cheek, he’s kissing you, saying, “good girl. you’re doing fantastic.”

you just eat up the praise and look down to see your pussy devouring him whole. the first two or three inches were a struggle just from lack of use but your lack of pleasure - the near sexual deprivation you’d experienced since shit hit the fan - overcomes it, and is pleasantly fulfilled.

in and out of you, negan works his hips and you can’t be happier. could a man you’d branded a psycho just minutes before be so adept at addressing your pleasure?

seems like it.

“god, you fuck well for a gym teacher.”

negan won’t let the snide comment slide so he wraps up his tour of purple rain against your collarbone to simper at you. “yeah, and for a frigid bitch, this pussy is hot and ready.”

“maybe i’m one of those dumb girls who’s attracted to psychos and serial killers?” you ponder playfully and wrap your arms negan’s neck to pull him in closer.

“oh, i’m gonna fuck you dumb, honey, don’t worry.” and with a roll of his hips, you have no reason to worry he won’t live up to his words.

you whine when he suddenly rams into you. his girth juts along your tight, inner walls. you meet his gaze again and just looking at his smug face has you tightening around him.

“god, baby, did you just fuckin’ squeeze me?”

“can you adjust?”

he grunts. “can you?”

you don’t have time to ask what you could possibly have to adapt to next because negan’s turning you into your stomach onto the table, tossing his leather jacket down for you to bury your face into. his absence from between your thighs brings on another whine but one moment of motion and now you feel him flush against your back, filling you to the brink with his cock.

“yeah, bet that brain can’t even think about an escape plan with that dumb little pussy stuffed so full. you gonna’ be able to walk tomorrow, honey?” he asks you tenderly as if he’s not on the verge of taking out your cervix.

“ne-negan! sto-,”

“-stop what?” he gyrates his hips nice and slow into you, dragging on the sensitive insides of your poor, overstimulated little cunt. “stop fucking you? because the way your pussy is clampin’ down, i don’t even know how i’m backing out of here baby.”

“don’t!” you beg.

“what?” he leans down to take your chin in his hands and see the angsty, pleasure induced tear starting to roll down your cheek. “god, you even look pretty when you cry. fuckin’ face like that.”

hips are stammering and negan’s words burn straight through to your core. he moans like a motherfucker when he feels the squeeze of your clingy little core on him. haywire all of this had gone, and now your climax is taking you over the edge.

“negan, don’t stop. don’t stop. don’t be an asshole,” you’re pleading.

he’s back to spearing you on his cock, leveraging your hips and throwing his head back. “don’t think i could, baby. not with a pussy this fucking fantastic.”

the praise is what does you in for the second time. any thought of undead nurses or public floggings leaves your brain and all you’re left with is the molten hot pleasure exploding inside of you. negan’s hand drifts down to your clit to have you absolutely crushing his cock.

“god, doll, you’re fuckin’ tight. so fuckin’ hot when you come like that. gonna have me doing a fuckin’ one and done for now.”

the huskiness of his voice and the twitch of him against your walls only eggs you on. your eyes are shut tight but you he’s all you can imagine. head on top of his jacket, you breathe in his scent, musky with a hint of the same cologne he wore back at school, and you’re creaming around him.

“fuck, doll!”

and he’s shooting his cream inside of you. the warmth fills you up and you no longer have the energy to move. any gyration of your hips has halted. a few more thrusts and he’s in the same boat. he collapses atop you for just a moment before pulling out and padding towards the table against the wall laden with napkins and refreshments that were supposed to be for the meeting.

you don’t turn your head but you can hear him grabbing some paper towels off the roll and clutching some other things.

“just gonna wipe between your legs,” he instructs and you let him.

your forehead against the table and those pretty eyes squeezed shut has negan rethinking a thing or two. suddenly he’s regretting not fucking you like the sweet thing you are. you deserved better than a table - at least his soft, king sized mattress if not a cloud.

once he finishes, he pats your back and nudges you up where he’s waiting with a water bottle - already open with the cap off. you accept with no issue and gulp the mini-sized bottle down easily.

“listen, why don’t you have dinner with the girls and i tonight? i’m not gonna give you your shotgun back just yet, but might change your mind about some things.”

[pressplay-if]

Please please please I'm begging on my knees Lincoln nsfw alphabet 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Now by popular demand, the makers of "Angel alphabet" bring you

The Lincoln alphabet

A = Aftercare Lincoln keeps a cool, wet towel by the bedside in case the MC is overheated. Also, they'll bring MC something to drink, clean them up and rub their shoulders if needed. Note how I wrote "MC" instead of "their partner"? That is significant.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Lincoln likes their own blue eyes, and their facial structure. They are overall very confident, although they sometimes wish they were a bit taller. Only sometimes. Lincoln LOVES the MC's vocal chords, they want to cut them out and keep them... kidding, of course. But really, vocal chords should count, right?

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Cum is... cum. Lincoln has no strong feelings about it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) A) They have a voice kink. B) Being humiliated by MC is a big turn-on for them. They want to crawl on all fours, sleep on the floor next to MC's bed, be forbidden from speaking, that kind of thing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Lincoln has a lot of experience, but with few people. They have had two semi-serious relationships by the time MC meets them, and they pick the people they hook up with very carefully. Lincoln is very good at what they're doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Lincoln likes being on their knees for the MC. In any way whatsoever.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Very serious. Lincoln lives for whatever intimacy happens between them and the MC. There's nothing more important than MC, especially in that moment.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Lincoln is smooth like a dolphin. Male Lincoln, too. Wax. Wax all the way.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Devout. Zealous.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Lincoln has touched themself to the MC's songs SO many times... A picture alone doesn't do it, though. They need to hear their voice.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Hoooo boy. Okay. Voice kink, degradation kink, power play, bondage, body worship, begging, overstimulation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere MC wants. But, gun to their head, Lincoln would have to say their own bedroom. They have everything they could ever need or want in there, endless possibilities, unlimited time...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Well, given they're obsessed with the MC, the motivation is... there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) They are very submissive towards MC and will be turned off by MC wanting to be humiliated by them. They can play the dominant one for a while if that's what MC wants but they refuse to degrade them in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) They're really good at it, prefer giving but will absolutely not say no to receiving it either.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Whatever MC wants.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If MC wants to, absolutely yes. In fact, it would turn them on to be "used" for a quick stress relief.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) hahahahahaahahaaaaa

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Lasts very long but will be ashamed if they come prematurely. Need a little breather before they can go again after.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) They have all sorts of stuff. Big range, lots to choose from. And they're sorted by solo or to be used on a partner. Also by color. Lincoln is neat.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Not at all. They are there to provide.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) They are as loud or as silent as MC permits them to be. They get louder the more overstimulated they get.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) They would really like to take an intimate, vulnerable picture of the MC sometime. Not a naked picture. But like, a picture of MC's face right after orgasm, or while they're sleeping. Only if the MC is ok with it, tho.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Lincoln has nooooo problems showing off their body. If you've picked a female Lincoln, you might remember her party outfit. Yeah. Lincoln likes being naked, they have full confidence that they look good. They're lithe, lean, but strong. Also, they have that lovely tan...

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Outside of a relationship, it's pretty nonexistent. They pick and choose their flings very carefully. But with the MC, it's at 100, pretty much always.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) THEY WILL NOT REST.

[thepunkranger]

Resident Evil Characters - A Summary

Note: This is entirely my own opinion and said with a heavy dose of humor

Please enjoy

Chris Redfield

OG

Started as a twunk

Became an angry gorilla man???

Alpha Male™️

Punches boulders

Wants you to marry his sister

Smoker

Hide yo kids, hide yo wife

Rude to wait staff

2/10 - Just a guy. Hit him with your car

-

Jill Valentine

Other OG

Arguably better main of RE1

Master of Unlocking

Bisexual Bob™️

Butch

Supercop

Once got mind-controlled into going blonde

Rocket Launcher babe

PTSD

Big Strap Energy

Giant anime gun

10/10

-

Albert Wesker

OG Baddy

Sunglasses

Thinks he’s cool

A little too into Chris

“What are we going to do this game, Albert?”

“What we do every game, Alex: try to take over the world”

Matrix jacket

Maybe a vampire?

Looks like my uncle (derogatory)

4/10

-

Barry Burton

Bear

A+ line delivery

Just happy to be a part of things

Wishes his daughter would talk to him

Comes through in a pinch

Got lost on his way to The Last of Us

Father figure

Not dead out of sheer dumb luck

8/10

-

Rebecca Chambers

Baby butch

Sees the best in everyone

Autism be damned, my girl can work a shotgun

Sporty

Mommy Domme/Babygirl switch vibes

Sweet coffee addict

Doing fine, thanks for asking

Awkward thumbs up

9/10

-

Billy Coen

Bad Boy™️

Never bothered to take off his handcuffs

Tattoos

Mullet???

Moral standards

Strong silent type

Whole situation could’ve been avoided by just talking about his issues but no

Queen fan

7/10

-

Leon S. Kennedy

If a golden retriever became a human and then got kicked every day of its life

Having a really bad first day

Into dominant women

Dumb 90s haircut

Uses comedy as a coping mechanism

Hair grows in direct correlation to his level of angst

“Hey demons, it’s me, ya boi”

Sexy

Dog lover

Certified Good Boy™️

Fucked up a perfectly good rookie is what you did. Look at it, it’s got depression

15/10

-

Claire Redfield

College student stuck in the zombie apocalypse

Soft butch

Humanitarian

Forced her brother to teach her how to knife fight

Really into motorcycles

Leather jacket

Rocket Launcher babe #2

Always has at least one adopted child with her

10/10 would ask to babysit

-

Ada Wong

Mommy. Sorry. Mommy- sorry. Mommy-

Grappling hook

Badass spy

Emotionally distant

Soft spot for cute cuddly things (Leon)

Femme fatale

Book lover

Chaotic neutral

Crossbow 😍

Could step on me and I’d say thank you

Rocket launcher babe #3

10/10

-

Sherry Birkin

Goosebumps protagonist

Worst parents ever tbh

Surprisingly good under pressure

Please someone get this girl some therapy

Supergirl

Smartest person here

One hell of a shot

The trauma is immeasurable

Somehow still doing fine

Loves her weird adopted family

8/10

-

Carlos Oliviera

Himbo

First POC main?

Went from three polygons and a white boy haircut in the original to actual gorgeous South American hunk in the remake

Lost his accent along the way for some reason

#1 Jill simp

If Dug from Up was a guy

Only trustworthy person in the whole series

Just wants to help

Gorgeous gorgeous hair

Loves strong women

Hakuna matata

Touch-starved

10/10 would peg

-

Steve Burnside

Twink

Who is this sassy lost child?

Hot Topic employee

Into Claire (she’s too old for you bud)

Choker

Thinks he’s edgy

Whiny

Daddy issues

1/10

-

Luis Serra Navaro

If Puss in Boots was a human

The Most Extra™️

Luscious flowing locks

Definitely into bondage

Used to work for Umbrella

Trying to make up for it

Don Quixote references

Bisexual

Good with his hands

Praying for a threesome with Leon and Ada

10/10

-

Ashley Graham

Basic white girl

Always getting kidnapped

Master of Unlocking #2

Razor flip phone

Ada Wong bisexual awakening (same)

Good with a wrecking ball

Makes Leon catch her every time she has to jump a ledge (also same)

Would like to go to Hot Topic, please

7/10

-

Sheva Alomar

Player 2

Second POC main

Bad AI

Too good for her game

Willing to go on a suicide mission with a guy she just met

Left handed

Deserves a better stylist

Only good part of RE5

Literally my girl got done so dirty just give her another chance please

10/5

-

Moira Burton

“It’s not a phase, dad!”

Probably gay

Weak arms

Skillz

Box dyed her hair at least once

Simple Plan playing in the background

Childhood trauma

7/10

-

Piers Nivans

Trying his best

Appreciates a good steak

Sick of Chris’ bullshit

Good with a rifle

Just a good man

German Shepherd boy

Self-sacrificing

8/10

-

Jake Muller

Wesker’s son

Daddy issues

Who invited Ronan Lynch here?

Quips for days

Bad boy

Loves the type of woman who can kick his ass

The Most Edgy™️

9/10

-

Ethan Winters

Husband of the year

Trusting

Surprisingly chill

The most basic white man in all of RE

Hands? What hands?

Functionally a lizard

Would still love you if you were a worm

Just casually knows how to craft bullets

Moldy

8/10

-

Mia Winters

Toxic girlfriend energy

Literally possessed

Dark sense of humor

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

Casually working for a bioterrorism organization

Does actually care about her family

Definitely doesn’t have a penicillin allergy

If you can’t be the girl of his dreams, you can at least be the feral swamp witch of his nightmares

2/10

-

Zoe Baker

Lesbian

Mold intolerance

Southern accent thicker than grandma’s gravy

Picked last on the playground

Somehow okay despite her brother being Like That

Joe’s favorite

Science skills

8/10

-

Lucas Baker

Jigsaw

Didn’t even need the mold

Probably got at least one true crime documentary made about him

Working for Mia’s bioterrorism organization

Left his classmate rotting in the attic

Just the worst

0/10

-

Alcina Dimetrescu

Mommy

Please step on me

Elizabeth Bathory vibes

Just fucking huge

Can turn into a dragon

Lesbian

9/10

-

Karl Heisenberg

Grimy

Tumblr Sexyman

When robotics majors get weird

Fights with his siblings

Doesn’t actually care at all about Miranda

In cahoots with the lycans

7/10

-

Rosemary Winters

Mommy and Daddy issues

YA protagonist

Badass

Childhood trauma

Into the Mold-verse

Alternate universe Sherry Birkin

8/10