Tumgik
#trigger russian roulette
molsno · 1 year
Text
one of the reasons I can't really see myself dating a tme lesbian is because so fucking many of them, even if they're trans themselves, think they're incapable of being transmisogynistic. like. there's an inherent power difference between us and sooooooo many tme lesbians want to deny that because they have this gut feeling that they're more oppressed on the basis of being afab and I straight up do not feel safe enough to date someone who thinks that.
and like. that's the thing. a lot of them just never even stop to consider that trans women might feel unsafe around them - they think of it being the other way around. and like, idk, the thought of dating someone who views me as a dangerous man even a little bit, even if they won't admit it and don't think they do, is one of the most terrifying prospects imaginable, because I know that at any time they could turn around and discard me like garbage, tell everyone I know that I'm a dangerous abusive predatory tranny in order to isolate me so that I have no one to turn to.
tme lesbians will read this and think I'm exaggerating, think that kind of thing would only happen if I was actually dangerous and abusive and predatory, completely unaware that I've just described the personal life experience of like 70% of the trans women I know. they don't fucking understand how unbelievably common it is for trans women to be abused, beaten, groomed, and raped by their afab partners, only to have those partners turn around and paint them as the abusers and isolate them. no matter how many times I hear a new variation of this story it never stops making me cry. it makes me want to hold them and give them my unconditional love, tell them they're not dangerous, tell them they deserve gentleness and understanding and safety, make them really believe they deserve someone who will respect their boundaries and desires. if you've ever wondered why trans women mostly only date other trans women, it's because nobody else is doing that for us.
57 notes · View notes
tazzymcclazzy · 8 months
Text
hello this is rj news/ref reporting to you live from Verizon Store Display Atblet
1 note · View note
seelestia · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
✧ the gambler and his knight.
aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }
⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★
★ 〜 masterlist.
© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
Tumblr media
aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!
“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.
“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”
“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.
aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.
“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”
a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.
(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)
aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.
aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.
aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.
aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”
aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.
“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).
“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”
“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.
(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)
aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)
aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)
a game of russian roulette.
it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.
you're there as his protector yet, utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.
“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.
you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.
“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.
“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.
“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.
but he's the only one laughing.
aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face is for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.
(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)
“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”
you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.
(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)
“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”
he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.
aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.
“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.
but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”
you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.
“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.
(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)
the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”
on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.
whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.
(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)
aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?
it isn't supposed to turn out like this.
what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.
so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?
think of something else.
kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.
but there's no use.
in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.
(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)
aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.
aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.
“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”
aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.
he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.
aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)
Tumblr media
— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡
3K notes · View notes
nnon0 · 5 months
Text
JJH fic recs
other fic rec posts : 1.(active post) 2.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)
(🫀) -personal faves
Tumblr media
all these years @domjaehyun
WC: 34.1k
fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au
Just friends @lonelyharmonies
WC: 22k
Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au
what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?
(🫀) Only @ppangjae
WC: 21.6k
almost!lovers au
You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?
Romeo roulette @wincore
WC:21.1k
soulmate au, office au, fake dating
if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.
he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight
WC: 18.7k
Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers
jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.
(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic
WC: 17k
heartbreakers, smut
A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.
(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites
WC: 17k
school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun
As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.
(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae
WC:13.7k
poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers
As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.
I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs
WC:11.8k
friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut
there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts. 
Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan
WC: 10.2k
Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving
synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)
Boyfriend material @mochidoie
WC: 6.2k
fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst
Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.
Back up Valentine @tyonfs
WC: 2.9k
Spiderman!jaehyun
you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.
Tumblr media
SERIES
S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun
WC:66.2k
heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories
2K notes · View notes
pennylanewrites · 7 months
Text
russian roulette [toji fushiguro]
cw: gun play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting, choking, creampie, doggy, reverse cowgirl, mating press, kinda dark content, kinda dubcon at first, some soft!toji towards the end
general masterlist // jjk masterlist
Tumblr media
“let’s play a game.” you watched intently as your boyfriend took a copper bullet out of a case. he brought it up to eye level, grinning mischievously.
you were used to seeing guns around his place. it was more often than not that you would tend to his open wounds in the early mornings, begging him to just go to a hospital instead. but this was different. he never used them, never even touched them around you.
toji placed the bullet in his polished revolver and spun the cylinder, finally meeting your curious eye.
“come here.” he patted his knee and you got up from your chair, making your way to him. you sat down on his lap and toji squeezed your waist where his hand fell. gun still in his hand, he touched it against your thigh, spreading it open. the cold metal left goosebumps on your skin as it trailed up to the inside of your thigh.
“toji…”
“i won’t hurt you.” the glimmer in his eyes said otherwise. your eyes curiously followed the gun’s muzzle that hid under your skirt, yelping when it came in contact with your pussy.
toji kissed your exposed neck with fervor as the gun trailed up your torso, over your heart, up your shoulder. finally, to your temple.
you couldn’t focus on the hungry kiss toji left against your lips, or the obvious boner hitting the back of your thigh uncomfortably. not when he had a literal gun to your head.
“stop.” you whispered.
“i fucking told you.”with one swift movement toji had you trapped under him on the couch. “i’m not going to hurt you.”
you watched in slow motion as his finger traced the trigger, your eyes closing shut when he finally pulled it. a slight push against your temple and a click was all you felt before he started laughing.
“it’s not funny.” you breathed out, trying to push him away.
“come on,” his strong arm pinned you down, the other pulling your skirt and panties down, “you’re fucking wet.” he licked his lips with satisfaction. his fingers came in contact with your clit, making your back arch off the couch. he pushed you down with the revolver’s front against your stomach, making you gasp.
with his fingers still massaging your clit, he leaned his body against yours to lock your lips together. his tongue played with yours, but it was quickly replaced with the gun. your eyes widened. he wouldn’t actually pull the trigger, would he? the odds were four to one, but still. you would be killed instantly.
“daddy’s gonna have his fun now, okay?” you tried to scream when he pulled the trigger, but nothing came out. a tear trickled down your cheek, trembling lips against his soft thumb.
“toji, please stop.”
“you know i like it when you cry.” his thumb moved from your bottom lip to your cheek, swiping the tears away. “let me have my fun now.” he whispered in your ear, kissing the lobe softly before moving down on the couch until he was looking at your pussy.
you spread one leg over the couch, the other over his thigh, and unbuttoned your shirt.
“what, did you come already?” toji scissored his fingers, showing you the juices sticking from them. “you might be even sicker than me.” he chuckled and tossed the gun on the table before turning his attention to you again.
“daddy, i need you.” you whined when his fingers teased your slit.
“you got me.”
his two fingers easily slipped inside you, using your wetness as lube. his other hand snaked up your body and wrapped around your throat, not applying pressure just yet. his fingers curled up, pushing deeper inside you, and you were so caught up in the feeling that you didn’t even notice him getting the gun again.
“you want me to fuck you with this?” the cold muzzle pressed against your entrance, and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t intriguing. you nodded slowly. toji pushed the muzzle inside you, making you moan out in pleasure.
it was cold and it felt weird inside you. toji relentlessly pumped it in and out of you, pushing it as deep as it would go every time you moaned his name.
“i could fucking kill you right now.” he chuckled against your thigh. he watched, mesmerised, as a ring of white bunched up around the muzzle. “and you don’t even care. you just wanna get off.”
his hand wrapped around your neck again, this time his fingers applying pressure to the sides.
“are you gonna come for me?” he picked up the pace, making the whole couch shake.
“yes, yes, fuck!” your thighs clamped together, your walls closed around the gun, your hands searching for toji. you pulled him in for a kiss, while he carefully removed the gun.
“so messy.” he palmed his erection over the gray sweatpants, watched the gun drip with your cum. he pushed it inside your mouth and you wrapped your tongue around it, licking it clean. the taste of the metal made you gag. “good girl.” he grinned and leaned over you. you opened your mouth, lolling your tongue out for him to spit on.
“toji…” you wrapped your legs around his own, locking him in, and pulled him closer. “want you.” you pushed his sweatpants down, fingers teasing the slit of his cock. toji slammed his lips against yours, picking you up with ease. he set you up over the arm of the couch, and you watched over your shoulder as he took his pants off. pre-cum was already leaking from his hard cock when he slapped it against your ass.
he used his hands to spread your cheeks open, the cold air bringing goosebumps up your spine. you felt his tip rub against your cunt, collecting your wetness. a whine escaped your lips when toji finally entered your hole.
“how are you so tight, baby?” toji’s voice strained as he held your hips back, slamming his cock inside you. your back arched and you moaned in pleasure. you could feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him as your walls fluttered around it.
toji knew he was too big. too girthy, too long. but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to fit snug inside you every time.
and you loved every single second of it.
his hand reached for your hair, lifting your body up so your back was against his chest. his strong arm wrapped around your stomach, locking you in place as he thrusted in and out of you.
“daddy, more!” you brought your hand down to your puffy clit, trying to satisfy that hunger resting deep in your stomach. “i’m gonna come!”
“yeah? you like this?” he whispered against your shoulder, his fingers circling over yours, pressing up against your sweet spot. “you like how daddy fucks you?”
you nodded, your eyes closing as you slammed your hips down, trying to feel more of him. the second orgasm of the night washed through you and you were out of breath, but toji was insatiable.
without pulling out, toji flipped you over so he was sat on the couch and you were on top of him, facing the other way. his hands raked along your body, his need to touch every inch of you obvious.
they ended up on your hips, holding tight so he could lift you up just barely, then slam you down on his cock again. you were hot and sweaty, your back and his torso stuck together and the sounds coming from both of your mouths filled the room.
“you wanna come again?” toji bit your neck playfully, reaching the end of the couch to get the gun. his fingers wrapped around your neck, barely applying pressure. the muzzle met your temple again.
“y-yeah.” you moaned out, lifting your feet off the ground to move your hips freely.
“work for it.” you could hear his smirk as he sat back, bringing you with him.
you tried to move your hips up and down, front and back, but it wasn’t enough. it was never like the way toji did it, and your legs were getting tired. you held yourself up on his knees and turned around with a pout.
“toji, i can’t.” you muttered.
“that’s okay, baby.” his hand left your neck and he pulled you back so you were snug against him. you breathed out as he slowly lifted you both up, then down, more of his length fitting inside you at this angle. “what are the odds now?” he pushed the gun against your temple.
“two to one.” you replied and gasped when he pulled the trigger again, only for nothing to happen.
“wrong. now it’s two to one.” he laughed, voice raspy as he bucked his hips up furiously, his thighs meeting the back of yours with every thrust.
“f-fuck, toji! i’m coming!” your legs were shaking uncontrollably and you would be lying if you said the adrenaline and the danger didn’t turn you on.
“good girl. come for me so i can fill you up.” toji guided you through another orgasm, his arms keeping your thighs open so you could see just how he fucked you.
“up.” he slapped your thigh softly, pushing you off him. “come here.” he wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead and sat you on his lap, this time facing him.
“what?” you asked softly after he kept staring at you.
“you okay?” you nodded, earning a squeeze on your arm. “answer me.”
“i’m okay. you’re ruining the vibe.” you teased, looking up at him through your eyelashes. your makeup was long smudged and strands of sweaty hair stuck on your face and neck, but toji always thought you looked pretty. too pretty for him.
“oh, am i now?” he pushed you on the couch and you spread your legs, but he closed them, bringing them over your head. basically folding you in half.
“toji, it’s not gonna fit like that.” you whined when his tip teased your fluttering hole.
“oh, it’s gonna fit.” he tested the waters, pushing the tip in only to remove it completely. “i’ll make it fit.” and with one thrust, he buried his cock to the hilt, groaning in pleasure.
your body was numb. he had never fucked you like this. even though the position was uncomfortable, the look on his face and his moans of pleasure as he thrusted in you were worth it. he brought your legs over his shoulders, pressing against your stomach with his hand.
“look.” he breathed out. you could see the bulge in your belly every time he thrusted. “oh, fuck,” he strained, “get the gun.”
you went to hand it to him, but he moved your hand so you were pointing it at him. with your legs still on his shoulders, he leaned closer to you until the muzzle touched his forehead.
“shoot.” he urged you, eyes wide as he fucked into you with fervour.
you finally understood how it felt. two chances it would draw a blank. one chance you would shoot his brains out. your finger fidgeted with the trigger and you tried to focus on anything other than the cock your walls tightened around.
click. blank.
you let out a sigh of relief, a small laugh escaping your lips.
“god, you’re so hot.” he praised you. “i’m gonna fill this pussy up.” he leaned down to kiss you softly.
ropes of cum filled you, making you moan in pleasure. toji slowly pulled out, his hand still around your ankles to keep your legs up. he watched with fascination as the cum oozed out of your gaping hole and he brought a finger down, pushing the liquid back inside.
“toji, it’s filthy!” you tried to protest when he brought his finger up and licked it clean. he finally let your legs go and you dropped them on either side of him.
“you did good, baby.” he praised again, leaning down to leave soft kisses on your belly, your stomach, between your breasts. “so good for daddy.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
livelaughlovesubs · 2 months
Note
Mind empty just Thinking about dazai with knife play or gunplay is just 😋
-🎭
ARGHHHHH
Tumblr media
Dazai who’s super excited about it, wriggling around all the time in hopes you’d accidentally kill him. But he didn't actually want to die, it’s too painful this way. Still, just imagining it and fantasising about the possibility made his dick leak like a girl.
Dazai who audibly gasps whenever you cut him slightly, or press the muzzle against his forehead. Whimpering when he inhale, breath hitching and going up a pitch as you press the trigger. The familiar ‘bang’ of the gun reached his ears as his inevitable orgasm washes over him.
Dazai who gets so exited when seeing red, watching the blood drip down his skin as it sticks to everywhere. His blood was such a clear red, it didn’t take long until it became lumps. But until then, he had enough time to admire the fluid and groan in delight.
Dazai who squirms around when you threaten to take his life. Like an embarrassed maiden while he covers his face, grinning cheekily while shaking his hips. Feeling the cold material of the weapon sliding across his chest, stomach or thighs, rubbing against his crotch teasingly. It’ll be hard to hold back~
Dazai who loved it a bit too much when you press the muzzle of the gun against his cheeks, brushing it over his lips and force it into his mouth. Forcing him to suck and lick it. He swears he can taste the bullet within, even though it isn’t loaded. At this rate he doesn’t even know if he wants to beg you to shoot or to withdraw the gun. Dazai who begs you for more once you are done with your little session. Always seeking more adrenaline and danger. Next time, maybe you’ll load one bullet? Or maybe two even to be extra bold? Russian roulette is pretty fun after all.
Tumblr media
585 notes · View notes
minaj-estyyy · 3 months
Text
Bending shigaraki over with a gun against his head, Russian roulette with one bullet in the revolver. You’ve pulled the trigger 3 times already and each time he hears the {click!} he cums. Grabbing his arms and crossing them behind his back as you pull him up from the bed by his hair before pulling the trigger one more time just for the gun to jam. Idc he’d cum so hard he’d be crying n shit, ugh I need him so bad.
Idk, I must be feelin freaky
Muah 💋
Tumblr media
306 notes · View notes
mysticheathenn · 3 months
Text
Messages From Your Mental Prison
Tumblr media
Hi, Hexlings!
This pick-a-card reading is about your mental health and the state of how you view the world and everything that is going on in your life. This could be about your depression, Anxiety, or even suicidal thoughts. Read with caution as this reading may have triggers.
This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.
Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.
MasterList
Patreon Link
TW Ahead Read With Caution
Tumblr media
Pile l:
Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: 8 of Pentacles (Reversed), 9 of Swords, 4 of Swords (reversed), 10 of Cups (reversed), Justice
This reminds me of the TikTok clip of the voice screaming "It's not fair. It's not fair." reminding me of how many people have probably told you that you handle stress and everyday life so well but little do they know your mental state is literally one inconvenience away from having a mental breakdown. Stress and anxiety practically camp out in your mind on a daily basis pile l. You can't seem to escape it, it's all you have known for quite a while and you're tired. There is a saying that "There is no sleep for the wicked" Well in your case "There is no sleep for the poor or those who lack the resources to pull themselves up in their life." All you want in life is enough to pay your bills and a little extra for savings and be able to do something with your life like try a new hobby without feeling guilty for spending money that isn't on "important" things like survival. You probably have been in survival mode for quite some time now and wondering when will you see a breakthrough. You're tired of being tired. You're tired of practically playing Russian roulette with your bills of which one can you not pay for this month. One thing I will say pile l is even though things may seem bleak please don't give up, I sense things will get better financially for you. Sometimes in life you just need to find your footing for things to take off.
Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Seek out information that will help you out, A Journey either physical or mental, unsettled times. Need to plan ahead, Announcement, Get back to the basics.
Pile l your extra message oracles make me believe that you feel lost, maybe even stuck for some of you with no clue in the world of how to better your situation or go about life. You have the get back to the basics card which sticks out to me like a sore thumb letting the game know that I sense you may be the type who always tries to do those get-rich-and-quick schemes like drop shipping or anything else you see that pops up on your social media feed and it never works out for whatever reason. You want to know why....it's because you aren't supposed to be doing that. That's not your path to riches. You have the 8 of Pentacles and 10 of Cups card but it's reversed meaning you are meant to have emotional and financial fulfillment you just need to stop and get back to the basics. What basics mystic? What is it that has been drawing or calling you in? What is something you keep putting off or not doing because you believe based on society and family it won't make you any money? For most of you, this is what you need to be doing. For others of you, you will be going on a journey where you need to find this out. Figure out what feeds your soul that you would do for free and do that but add tax. You are meant to freelance and be your own boss, not working for other people. Overall this is a journey process for you pile l. You will deal with more hard times as you figure this out but remember this journey is temporary to where you want to be, so keep pushing. An answer if it hasn't already will come to you.
Tumblr media
Pile ll:
Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Hermit, Page of Swords (reversed), Queen of Cups, 10 of Wands, 10 of Swords (reversed)
When was the last time you nurtured yourself or spent time alone and really tried to heal and nurture yourself with positive thoughts pile ll. It's a never-ending cycle of you constantly bombarding yourself with cruel words that aren't true. This reminds me slightly of the reading I posted titled Mystery pt. ll. But overall this feeling of yours feels more so as if the world has its weight on your shoulders and you feel as if you are a burden to those around you. You may live at home, with roommates, or feel that you constantly are asking anyone and everyone around you for help as if you can't do anything for yourself and you're tired. You're ready to be able to be independent without having to rely on others. Maybe others have made you feel bad as well for asking for help when you are down on your luck to where you just feel crushed, stuck, unable to move in a direction because one way people will make you feel bad for your predicament and the other hand you will make yourself feel bad because you feel whatever this is you should be able to do by yourself but can't because life is tough right now. As I mentioned in pile l you need to get back to the basics. Get back to the basics of life and take things one step at a time. You are doing the best you can with what you have and don't let anyone make you feel bad about that.
Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Position of authority, August, Someone you know is undependable and insincere, Slowly but surely getting ahead. Pay attention to your work, Good Fortune.
As mentioned your life while it maybe chaotic at the moment everything is a journey and slowly but surely things will get better and you will get ahead eventually. With the Position of authority I am seeing this in two ways some of you should pay attention to your work as there may be a position available for you in management where you can make more money this may happen around or sometime in August. If not within the company you work maybe this is an invitation to be your own boss or look elsewhere for higher positions especially if you have more than enough qualifications. For others of you, this position of authority is letting you know that you are the boss of your own life and have complete control of what goes on and who is in it. Never let people who claim to be friends or family make you feel bad for being on hard times. They aren't who they say they are and you should move accordingly with that information. Overall Good Fortune is in your cards by the end of this rough patch. You just need to focus and hone in on ways you can do more within your life with the resources of which you have. Again this could be moving up in the company or going elsewhere, where advancement is an option.
Tumblr media
Pile lll:
Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Star, The Sun, Ace of Pentacles (reversed), The Fool (reversed), Awakening
Pile lll, my babies, it's time to allow yourself to be seen by the world. It's time to stop hiding in the shadows allowing life to pass you by. You can't keep yourself in the mental prison of feelings of imposter syndrome, fear of judgment, etc. Life wants to give you financial blessings, especially with the Ace of Pentacles in Reversed but you are blocking them because you aren't doing what needs to be done. This could be you starting a YouTube channel, being a content creator on social media, writing a book or screenplay/ maybe even fanfiction for some of you, others this might just be you hiding from a promotion that you deeply desire but feel you lack experience, knowledge, etc. Whatever this is for you, you have to release the thoughts that plague your mind and go for the thing that puts you in front of everyone. Yes at first you may make mistakes or look cringe or whatever the issue may be but that's how everything is when you first jump deep into something. You make mistakes and people will talk...but you want to know something life moves on and the world doesn't end. Seriously do the thing, it's time. You will beat yourself up if others take the things that you want for yourself and you want to know something you have no one to blame but yourself because you decided to not do what needs to be done. Write the book. Film yourself. Apply for better jobs even if you think you are not qualified. Have you heard of the girl who applied to jobs she had no business doing and ended up getting hired making $100k a year...that could be you right now but you are stuck listening to self-doubt and the thoughts of what others will say. Storytime: I knew that I didn't want to continue working at whatever job I was working at back in 2015 so when my friend and I figured out that employers don't check a lot of your information we applied for positions that would pay us well and you want to know something the resume I lied on got me so far in life to where I was Assistant GM of hotels at one point. All because I believed I could do what others were doing in the hotel industry even without a lick of experience. Did I mess up in the beginning, yes. Did I care...no because I was doing more good than harm so no one really questioned if I lied or not. You have to take the jump. Do the thing.
Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Short Journey, Back to Basics, Work achievement & success, TIME TO ACT, Someone is extremely stubborn and unwilling to change, Protected from negative forces beyond your control, Solid foundation success with effort, waiting for news package or letter, A meeting with a strange could be important.
Pile lll do you see the amount of synchronicities in your oracle reading. Spirit is coming through loud and clear that you need to get out of your stubbornness and began acting on your dreams, goals, and desires. You are protected from anything that could try and take what this is away from you. Even with a solid foundation success with effort is telling you "Hey if you do the thing you will not fail because you are protected." Now this goes without saying that you won't deal with some challenges because that's life what it is saying is you will come out on top and the journey for you won't be a long one if you just do the effort that it takes. Spirit will do the rest if you just do what needs to be done.
Tumblr media
Pile lV:
Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Empress, Queen of Pentacles, 5 of Swords (reversed), 8 of Swords (reversed), 6 of Wands
You are victorious pile lV your only problem is that you don't believe you are worth a pot to piss in a lot of the time. Even with the Empress and Queen of Pentacles card here letting me know how nurturing, giving, empathetic, and even resourceful you are you don't see any good things about yourself. You remind me of people who speak negatively about themselves not knowing that their actions speak the opposite. You can't say you don't care but your actions speak another language. You can't put yourself down but then be upset when life mirrors your thoughts. Deep down you know how amazing you are and the many great things that you can do, but for some strange reason you recently for some of you while others of you this has been going on for a while where you constantly hold yourself to such a low standard and critic everything that you do. Why is that? Where did it begin? How can you remove this person or thing that made you feel this way? For some of you, this may have been a relationship (platonic, romantic, or familial) that made you feel self-critical of yourself because they felt something about themselves. You must remember that when people speak unkind things to you that it's a reflection of themselves and not you. You don't have to take what others think of you and run with it as if they are true because they are not. A scene that comes to mind is when the mom in Black Swan says "What happened to my little girl?" What happened to you that made you feel and think these thoughts to yourself and how can you get back to the Empress and Queen of Pentacle energy.
Extra Messages: Manifestation Oracle Cards: Wellbeing, Empowerment, Strength
How can you today give yourself the love that you deserve? Is it a DIY spa day? A trip to a therapist or talk with a trusted friend? How can you show up for yourself in ways that you haven't before that will make you see the person you are? Have the strength and courage to stand up to anyone who makes you feel any less than what and who you are. For a few of you, you may be a part of the LBGTQ+ community and others around you have made you feel different, a "freak" or whatever insecurity that you question your existence. There is a quote by Elenor Roosevelt that says "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Please don't let assholes who were raised by baboons let you lower yourself or feel anything less than amazing, beautiful, and authentically you. Regardless of how you feel about yourself find something in your life, day, or something as small as a freckle on your face that you love and keep bringing more of that energy in for you and keep your head up. This feeling is only temporary, things will get better.
Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.
Stay safe and be blessed
269 notes · View notes
kierahn · 10 months
Note
Yandere mafia boss x younger subordinate m Reader (Also if you like set in Omegaverse, if not just keep it simple as that :) )
RUSSIAN ROULETTE. [ y ! mafia x m ! surbodinate reader]
Tumblr media
yandere! mafia x subordinate! male reader
[ nsfw, minors dni. ]
warnings:
noncon/dubcon
gunplay
omegaverse [ omega reader ]
spit as lube
degradation
request here.
i was going to add a reader death at the end, but i decided against it last minute lol. hope you guys enjoy either way ! :)
× omegas were a rare sight in the underground business. they were either used for trafficking business or used for pleasure among the members of the syndicate, a well-known gang in the underworld.
× you somehow managed to land a position in the syndicate with the help of someone you knew. before you entered, however, he had specifically warned you to never have anyone find out that you were an omega while on the business. you hesitated at first, knowing that trying to deceive such a dangerous group could cost you your life. but at the same time, you were desperate to pay off your family’s debt, and the opportunity was already dangling right in front of you.
× so you took it. you took your suppressants, covered your scent, and convinced yourself that you were a beta. after all, there is a saying that you need to convince yourself before convincing others. luckily enough, it worked and you ended up easily deceiving everyone around you, including your boss; Jansen Lazar, an alpha.
× however, you should’ve known that the karma from your deception would eventually catch up to you.
× you had taken your suppressants that day. you’ve been carefully monitoring your monthly heat so you knew when to take more pills than usual. you took the normal amount of dosage you usually would whenever your heat was approaching, but it seemed like it didn’t help much with the way you were now curled up, on your knees before your own boss; the cat now out of the bag.
× jansen furrows his eyebrows in conflict, torn between getting angry or feeling delighted that you were an omega. he had always harbored an interest towards you ever since you joined the syndicate. now he was presented with the opportunity to turn this interest of his into something more. though, he still made it clear that he was angered by your deception.
× “you..” jansen strode towards your hunched form, his hand shooting out to pull you up from the ground, his grip tight enough to form a bruise. he leans in to confirm his suspicions, the scent of an omega in heat hitting his nose which caused him to recoil slightly. your breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed. you looked so ready to be taken right there and then. “you’re an omega! how dare you deceive me.” he exclaimed angrily, his grip around your arm tightening. he restricted himself from pouncing on you, your scent starting to take a toll on him.
× but jansen didn’t let his libido control him just yet. he resisted the urge to fuck you pretty right then and there on top of his table. he still needed to show you that you weren’t going to be let off lightly after deceiving him.
× the next thing you knew, papers were scattered all around you two when jansen chose to throw you over his table. a revolver was then pointed close to your forehead, a sharp glare directed towards your half-lidded eyes.
× “there are 5 empty slots and a bullet in this revolver,” jansen lowers himself to whisper lowly against your ear in an attempt to intimidate you. his voice was hoarse as he tries to hold himself back from acting out of rationality. “you’re going to answer my questions, and each time i hear an answer i don’t like, i’m going to pull the trigger. got it ?”
× you could barely understand anything your boss was saying, but you nodded your head nonetheless. “good. good boy.” jansen hums in satisfaction, readjusting the gun on his grip. he started with his little interrogation session, but seeing as you didn’t seem to be in the proper state of mind to give him proper answers, he grew frustrated.
× “look at you, you can barely form any words.” jansen scoffed. you looked so vulnerable under him. a contrast to the stoic facade you would put up under your guise of being a beta.
× then an idea forms inside jansen’s head, a mischievous smirk slowly making its way onto his lips. he asks another question, knowing that you would likely answer. “do you want me to help you, little omega ? want me to take you and fuck you dumb ?” he drew his finger close to the trigger, looking down at you with an expectant gaze, daring you to say no.
× not that you would. no omega would reject an alpha during his heat. jansen's pheromones enveloped the room, mixing with your own which helped ease your heat minimally. desperate to find relief, you weakly nod your head, wrapping your arms around jansen’s neck to pull him closer to you which caught the man off guard.
× ‘click.’ the gun in his hand clicked. jansen had pressed the trigger. “i didn’t say you could touch me, y/n.” he says lowly, a warning in his voice. “i’ll do all the touching, behave yourself. do you understand ?” you nod, slowly removing your arms around his neck. jansen, in return, grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head to make sure that you wouldn’t touch yourself any time soon.
× he couldn’t hold himself back any further. his lips moved to bite down on your earlobe, eliciting a small gasp from you. jansen’s hot breath trailed down to hover just above your scent gland, the tip of his nose barely brushing against your bare skin as he takes a quick whiff of your scent. you smelled so fucking good, makes hin wonder how you managed to slip under his nose all this time.
× momentarily releasing your wrists, he threw your shirt over your head and threw it aside for you to find another time. he then worked on unbuckling your belt, leaving you bare and ready for him.
× he forcefully stuck two fingers into your mouth. “suck,” he ordered, which you pleasantly obeyed, your tongue wrapping around his fingers and coating it with your own saliva.
× he soon pulled out, a trail of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingertip. jansen, despite feeling his cock grow painfully hard, was generous enough to prepare you beforehand. he prods at your leaking entrance, slowly and carefully pushing his fingers in, using the moisture from your own saliva as lube. though, it seems like he didn’t need to do much with the amount of slick you were producing.
× “your hole is so fucking tight. i’m guessing you’ve never been fucked by an alpha before.” he growled lowly, pulling his fingers out after deciding that you were ready to take on his size. “i’ll happily be your first.” your hole was practically begging to be filled with something bigger than his fingers.
× jansen turned you on your stomach, arching your back so that your ass would be on full display for him. the sound of belt unbuckling reached your ears, and before you could take a deep breath to prepare yourself, he drives himself all the way inside which elicited a loud moan from you.
× ‘click.’ another click from the gun. you were lucky enough to avoid a bullet to your head. “lower your voice. do you want the others to hear you getting fucked by your boss ?” he questions, still thrusting into you at a constant pace that gradually increased over time.
× your hands instinctively shot up to cover your mouth to prevent any moan from slipping out, tears forming at the brim of your eyes.
× jansen stopped thrusting for a quick second to adjust himself before diving back in, hitting all the right spots that you were practically twitching and moaning like a mess under him.
× you wanted to cum, you couldn’t handle it anymore. your hand shoots out to wrap itself around your own cock and stroke it, hoping for some relief. a click makes you freeze, however. “what did i tell you ?” jansen hissed. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulled, his hot breath right against the back of your neck.
× “hng.. ~ mh ah ..m sor..ry !” you slur out, groaning in both pleasure and pain at the hand that tugged at your hair. a harsh bite to the neck your neck snaps you out of your trance. you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you came, painting the scattered papers on the desk white.
× ‘click.’ ‘bang !’ the revolver went off with a bang causing you to flinch and close your eyes tightly, a painful ringing sound in your ear. you anxiously open your eyes and look to your side, wondering why you were still alive and breathing. the bullet had lodged itself a few meters away from your head.
× “i didn’t give you the permission to cum yet,” jansen points out, a smug smirk on his lips as soon as he notices your fear-struck face. “but you’re lucky that we came at the same time.” jansen pulls out from your hole, leaving it to leak with his seed oozing out of you and trickling down your thigh. you felt your whole body go limp against the table, your whole body shaking uncontrollably after realizing that you had almost faced death. your knees buckled under you, your vision swaying into a blur until you eventually blacked out.
1K notes · View notes
memphisflash · 4 months
Note
Hii 💕Could you write an angsty fic about 70s Elvis being very jealous and possessive of a girl? Elvis is desperate to have her all to himself because the girl's job might involve interacting with other men or something like that? and wants to teach her a lesson, with gunplay.🖤
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⊱ word count: 3,8K
⊱ warnings: dead dove do not eat!, elvis being jealous and possessive, strong language, tiny mention of diet pills, smoking, degradation, gun play, russian roulette, elvis pulls the trigger a few times, murder threats, elvis manhandling reader, sucking on the barrel, dubious content, obviously smut; penetration with a revolver, normal penetration, unprotected sex, dom!elvis, rough sex, hair pulling, spanking, creampie.
⊱ authors note: seriously, read the warnings bc this is a ride, y'all. also i suck at describing guns but whateverrrr. honestly not that angsty, but it's pure filth. hope y'all likeee <333.
⊱ dead dove masterlist | main masterlist
Tumblr media
“He’s in the den and he’s pissed.”
You were confused at the words that were flying out of Charlie’s mouth, who had come running to your car as soon as you drove it through the gates of Graceland. Having just finished a six hour shift at the nightclub you worked at, you weren’t in the mood for these shenanigans tonight.
Or rather, this morning, seeing it was five o’clock.
“How pissed are we talking?” You asked as your fiancé’s friend jumped in the passenger seat of your red Chevy Camaro. “And why is he even angry?”
You were aware that when it came to you, Elvis was easily triggered. He was jealous and that jealousy had seemed to grown tenfold over the past year when you’d gotten a job at an upscale club downtown as a hostess, tending to customers which most often involved business men who couldn’t quite handle their liquor.
You didn’t need this job, because Elvis gave you everything you wanted and more, but being a social butterfly, you liked working and being among people. People outside of Elvis’ bubble.
And Elvis was fine with that. Until tonight, it seems.
“We went to the club to come and surprise you- had this whole VIP table booked and everything, but then he saw you talkin’ to some men and he thought one ‘em put his hand on your waist,” Charlie was rambling, not giving himself time to breathe as you slowly drove up the long driveway to the house. “He was ravin’ and rantin’ in the car the entire way home. About how you was cheating on him and all that. I ain’t gonna repeat what he said, but…”
You looked over at Charlie and clench your fingers on the steering wheel, nerves starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach. You were grateful for Charlie not repeating what Elvis had said, because you knew how foul mouthed he could get when he was angry.
In a way, your relationship could be considered unhealthy at times. Toxic.
He was extremely possessive, not even liking it when a man did as much as look your way or breathe a little too loud in your direction. At some points, he didn’t even want you talking to the guys in his private circle and there’s been plenty of times where he would see you crack a joke with Sonny or have a serious conversation about the newest diet pills with Dr. Nick, and he’d absolutely rip into the men. And into you, though he did that in the privacy of your shared bedroom.
Elvis didn’t want to share you with anyone. He loved you so much it had grown into a borderlining obsession and he’d be damned if he would lose you to another man.
He’d be damned if he’d lose you at all.
And you know how much he loves you, because he’d often tell you and shower you with affection and gifts, as it was his way of apologizing for his behavior. You accepted it every single them, because you too love him so much it’s nearly unbearable.
Besides, you never did truly blame him for his behaviour because you could get the same way. You’ve threatened enough girls that got a little too close to him for your liking, but that’s a story for a whole ‘nother time.
“Wish me luck, Charlie.” You sigh deeply as you parked the car by the house, the man next to you jumping out before you could even kill the engine. He leaned down, holding onto the door.
“You got this, Y/N. Just… don’t be too loud.”
At the small grin that broke the slightly panicked facial expression he wore, you knew what he meant and gasped softly. Before you could give him any kind of verbal reaction, he had slammed the door shut and jogged around the white mansion, sneaking in through the backdoor.
Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a sigh and got out of the car to walk into the house to face Elvis. Ready or not.
The house was eerily quiet which means Elvis had sent everyone home or to their respected corners on the property. Taking off your shoes and jacket by the door, you put your purse on the floor and made your way into the den with its exotic styled furniture.
The space was dimly lit but the dark figure sitting in the arm chair in the far corner of the room was as clear as crystal to you. The waterfall wall that your fiancé had installed a few years back was switched off, but you could still make out a few stray droplets dripping down. The smell of tobacco was heavy, a hint of vanilla tickling your senses as Elvis blew out a breath of smoke from his cigarillo.
“Took you long ‘nough,” he spoke up, venom lacing his tongue. “Done whoring around?”
Your feet moved slowly across the moss green carpet, loosely folding your arms underneath your chest as you stood in between the couch and another chair across from him.
You knew he didn’t mean his words and he’d apologize for them later, but something in your heart was telling you this was going to be an interesting morning. And definitely a long one.
“I was at work.”
Elvis looked at you, letting out a bitter laugh as he rolls the brown cigarillo around between his fingertips. That’s when you noticed the white handle revolver laying on his left thigh, arm resting on the chair. “Work..” he scoffs, squinting his eyes at you a little. “Ya mean that place where you lettin’ all those wolves touch ya like a goddamn whore?!”
He was yelling, his voice thundering through the room and sinking straight into your veins. You felt your stomach clench, heart skipping a beat and then butterflies pathetically fluttering in your very core.
It scared you when he got like this, even though you knew he’d never physically hurt you, unless you asked for it. Maybe you weren’t right in the head, but God… he was so hot when he got like this.
“That’s not what my job is about and you know it.”
If there was one thing about you, it was that you like pushing his buttons, especially when he was in a state like this. Elvis knows this and while it only gets him angrier, he likes the part where he makes you slip into submissiveness.
There was a small smile on your face, one that he deemed too cocky for his liking. Seems like you were forgetting who had the upper hand here.
Elvis looks at you, sapphire eyes darkened as he pushed his smoke out in the ash tray next to him. He picked up the gun that had been on his thigh and settles back against the cushioned chair, shoving the hocker that was in front of him aside with his foot. Manspreading, he lets the revolver lazily rest in his hand.
“Get on y’er knees.”
He says it casually, though you didn’t miss the urge in his voice. He wanted you to do as he said and you weren’t willing to do so just yet.
“Or what?” You challenged him, standing there with your arms crossed and a cocky, raised eyebrow. Excitement was starting to crawl its way into your veins, arousal growing and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
Elvis’ jaw clenched as he raised his arm, pointing the lengthy revolver in your direction. His index finger grazed the trigger and although you know he wouldn’t pull it, at least not now, you had no idea if there were even bullets in the thing. Knowing him, there probably was.
“Get on your fuckin’ knees, Y/N.”
This time, the words didn’t come out in such a calm manner. His deep voice and the harsh tone of it made you clench around nothing, surely starting to ruin your panties as you feel yourself growing wetter by the second.
A small grin threatened to break through on his face but he managed to fight against it, watching you slowly get on your hands and knees, the gun still pointing in your direction as he rested the handle on his knee.
“Crawl.”
Yup. You were definitely in for it now.
There was a twinkle of excitement in his eyes as he watches you slowly crawl across the room and into his direction, stopping until you were sitting on your knees in between his spread legs. But he wouldn’t allow you to see his excitement- eyes darkening once more, looking down at you as if you were filth.
He allows you to put your hands on his knees, sliding them up his thighs as he trails the end of the barrel along your cheek, to your jawline.
“I ought’a teach ya a lesson for disrespectin’ me like ya did tonight.” He growls lowly and you shudder at the feeling of the cold silver of the gun against your skin, both your fear and arousal battling each other. They seem to go hand in hand. “God knows what else ya been doin’. You should be happy I haven’t blown your fuckin’ brains out.”
Your hands grip firmly onto his thighs and a gasp tears through your throat as he places the barrel against your temple, his free hand coming down to wrap around your throat.
You know he’d never do what he said, but you couldn’t help yourself from growing hotter at his threats.
“You w-wouldn’t anyways..” You said breathlessly, thighs rubbing together as his hand moves up to your jaw a little, fingertips pressing in your cheeks.
“Big fuckin’ mouth. How ‘bout ya stop that yappin’ and put that mouth to some good use, huh?”
You nearly moaned out loud at his words, but due to the grip he had on your face, all you were capable of was a needy whimper.
He knows this is turning you on, knows how much of a slut you really are for him. He’s been in this situation with you countless of times before and it never fails to get him all riled up, no matter how sick it was.
You feel the barrel of the gun moving down the side of your face, your eyes closing in anticipation as his other hand releases your face and moves down your throat, fingertips trailing between the valley of your breasts before his hand roughly squeezes your left breast through your top. The gun has moved down your neck and over your breasts too, following his hand before he rests it in between his legs, placing it on his crotch with the barrel pointing up.
“Suck it.” He orders, moving his hand in your hair to pull you down a little more. You’re looking straight into the barrel of the lengthy revolver, which you know oh so well. Hell, you were with the man when he bought it a month ago.
Part of you wants to make him even more angry, but you’re painfully aware of the fact that the longer you’d act like a brat, the longer it would take before he’d actually touch you.
You look up at him as you move closer, his grip on your hair letting up, instead caressing some locks behind your ear as you part your lips and wrap them around the gun in his hand. The taste of steel isn’t a pleasant one, but the sight of Elvis smirking down at you is and that’s what gets you so turned on – knowing he was calling the shots here, watching you do exactly as he says.
And when it came to him, you were a people pleaser. Wanted to please him in any way possible, even if that meant sucking off his gun.
You squeeze his thighs, digging your nails softly in the fabric of his pants as you take the barrel in deeper, though careful not to let it touch the back of your throat. Elvis’ finger had moved away from the trigger, which was only evidence to you that he wouldn’t follow up on what he had threatened you with.
You treated the gun as if it was his actual cock, pulling back up to swirl your tongue around the tip of the barrel. One of your hands moved underneath the handle of the weapon, cupping his cock that was straining his pants.
He let you, pushing the revolver deeper into your mouth as he groans lowly. You relaxed your throat as much as possible, squeezing your eyes shut as your hand was rubbing him a little more frantically through his clothes. He stopped you when your fingertips start fumbling with his belt, pulling the barrel back a little only to press the end of it against the inside of your cheek.
This time, his finger rested against the trigger and you whimpered out in slight fear.
“Did I tell ya to do that?”
Drool was spilling out of the corner of your mouth as he kept your mouth forced open due to the gun being in it, and all you could do was whimper and shake your head. You moved your hand away from his bulge and clung onto his arms pathetically. He took the barrel out of your mouth completely, allowing you to speak.
“I’m s-sorry..” You gasped breathlessly, panting softly.
It was truly pathetic how fast the brat inside of you was willing to do whatever he said and wanted, but you were too horny to care.
“Oh, y’er about to show me how sorry ya are.” The smirk on his face was close to devilish and you knew he didn’t mean sorry about what just happened, but about what happened at your job.
Which was nothing, but to Elvis it had been enough to set him off like this. And you weren’t complaining.
Like a good girl, you had stripped yourself from all pieces of your clothing when Elvis ordered you to. Draped over the hocker in front of him on your tummy, you could feel the cold barrel of the gun traveling down your spine.
Your hair hung in front of your face as your head hung low, hands tugging at the carpet and fingers clenching in the greenness of it because you had to have something to hold onto. You were squeezing your thighs together, arousal sticking to the insides of them and Elvis laughs tauntingly as he prodded them open with the revolver, liking how you jumped a little at the touch of steel grazing down your slit.
“Wonder if those fools at your sleazy lil job get ya this wet.” He grumbles behind you, his free hand rubbing rough circles on your ass cheek. You didn’t answer him fast enough, which resulted in a harsh slap to your ass.
You jolted a little, letting out a soft moan as you threw your hair back and looked at him over your shoulder. “N-No.. Only you, Elvis. Only you make me t-this horny.”
He raises an eyebrow and grins, kneading the supple flesh of your ass in his palm. “I hope that’s the God honest truth, honey, because I’ll fuckin’ kill all of ‘em.”
Teeth sinking into your lower lip and your ass sticking out a little more to him, you flutter your eyelashes at him as you moan softly. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’ll do anything for ya, you ought’a know by now.” He growls, caressing the end of the barrel on your clit, rubbing small circles on it. “The question is, what will you do for me?”
“Anything.” The words spill out without hesitation. You’d really do anything for him and he knows it, knows you can’t resist him.
You don’t quite understand the devilish smirk that spreads across his face, until you feel the end of the barrel lingering at your awaiting hole. Widening your eyes, you gasp and squeal softly as he slowly but surely pushes the steel length inside of you. Your hands grip onto the edge of the hocker, the cool slender barrel stretching you open for him to see.
“E-Elvis!” You cry out, clamping your hand over your mouth and the raven haired man is quick to grab your wrist and pull your hand away, pulling your arm behind your back and keeping it there. “Hurts!”
Both your arm being twisted back in such a rough manner and the fact that he was fucking you with a revolver without any prep.
But you wanted this. You asked for it – after all, you know better than to disrespect your man like you have done.
“Good. It should.” He doesn’t even move the barrel that fast, but it has you clenching harshly and your thighs quivering as you braced your toes into the carpet. He holds onto your arm roughly, preventing you from getting away. “s’what two-timin’ whores like you deserve.”
It hurts, and yet it feels so damn good. You liked the danger of it all, the fear mixing with arousal that was overtaking your entire being, making you forget you were even here on earth.
Elvis was thoroughly enjoying himself – watching you moan out in breathless squeals, wiggling and writhing, trying to get away and get the barrel to go deeper at the same time. Despite not wanting to hurt you seriously, he still loved threatening you with doing just that.
You disobeyed when he ordered you several times to keep still and he decided to pour some more fear into you by placing his index finger at the trigger, pulling it.
“There’s only one bullet in here, sweet pea, and I didn’t count so you better keep still.”
You froze in place, eyes widening as you look at him over your shoulder. You didn’t know if he was serious or not, but he was looking at you with a dark expression, brooding eyes boring a hole into you.
Was he truly playing Russian Roulette with your life right now?
You should be terrified at this point and while the fear in your chest intensified, so did your arousal, slick sticking to the barrel as he pulls it out a little.
You figured doing exactly as he says from here on out was your safest option, so you did just that – letting him fuck you with the revolver, you put your head down and bit down into the fabric of the hocker, muffled cries filling the den as you came violently over the coolness of the barrel.
Elvis didn’t give you any time to catch your breath after your orgasm and he’s pulled the gun out of you. You could hear him shuffling closer, his pants dropping before he aligned himself at your previously assaulted hole.
You let out a strangled cry as he pushes inside of you, filling you up to the brim and letting you stretch around his thick girth. You felt him all the way in your stomach and could barely utter a word, trying to keep your breathing as steady as you could. Elvis let go of your arm and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up against his chest roughly.
Your back arches, the fabric of his shirt feeling like fire against your skin as he starts thrusting into you at a harsh, calculated pace. His arm comes to wrap around your waist to hold you against him, bringing his other hand up to once more press the revolver against your skin. You moan like the whore he’d called you as you feel the end of the barrel poke underneath your chin.
You feel him so deep like this, you can barely think straight.
“You’re gon’ quit that damn job of y’ers and stay right here where ya belong.” He growls as his face presses against the side of yours, his breath hot against your skin as you can smell the hint of tobacco on it. “I’ll be damned if I let ‘nother man even look at ya. Nobody can have ya, darlin’, nobody but me.”
He presses the barrel firmer against your skin and all you can do is roll your eyes back and let out loud strangled moans.
Sorry, Charlie.
“I’m y-yours!” You cry out, knowing he wanted to hear a response. “Only yours!”
“Tell me who ya belong to.”
“You, Elvis! I belong t-to y-you!”
“That’s fuckin’ right.” He grunts animalistically as he unexpectedly pulls the trigger once more, making you let out a soft shriek as you tremble in his arms. “Your life belongs to me, princess.”
It’s the fact that he could possibly blow your brains out right now that has you clenching around his cock so fiercely, his hips falter. He drops the revolver to the floor, unable to hold back any longer and knowing you’re about to scream, he clamps his hand over your mouth as he starts thrusting into you at an ungodly pace.
You grip onto his arms and push your manicured nails into his flesh so deeply that you draw blood, screaming into the palm of his hand as his cock hits your g-spot with every thrust. The angle allow his balls to slap against your clit wildly and your second orgasm of the night washes over you like a tidal wave.
You’re shaking so violently that he has to hold you up, pressed firmly against him so you wouldn’t collapse. Tears running down your face and mascara smudged, you look like an absolute fucked out mess and Elvis grunts and moans as he presses his nose against your temple, filling you up with his load after two more harsh thrusts.
It felt as if your limbs were made of jelly as he lets himself fall back on the chair once he pulled out of you, taking you with him. You weakly settle in his lap, turning around to face him, the both of you panting.
You could see his eyes had softened and he lets out a breathless laugh, smiling at you as he caresses your hair out of your face and brings your face closer to his, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.
“I love ya, honey.” He mumbles against your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself firmer against him.
“Love you more.”
“There ain’t no bullets in that thing,” He admits, a grin raising the corner of his mouth as you pull back and gasp in disbelief at him. “I jus’ needed ya a lil scared.”
Because being scared got you horny, and he knows that.
“Oh, you’re terrible, Elvis,” you laugh softly as you peck his lips and then hide your face in his neck, cuddling up to him. “I’m gonna quit my job. Be a good wife and give you lots of babies.”
He laughs softly and caresses his fingers through your hair, his other arm wound around your waist to keep you close to him. “Good. ’s All I ever wanted, baby.”
You didn’t need a career, didn’t need something to do when Elvis wasn’t around. As soon as the two of you would get married later this year, you’d give him a bunch of beautiful children and be the perfect little housewife.
Perhaps there was nothing for you in the outside world after all, because you had everything you wanted right here, in the bubble of Graceland. In Elvis' bubble, because that's where you belong.
Tumblr media
⊱ taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @ladelinee @peaceloveelvis @jkdaddy01 @atrophyingaphrodite @i-r-i-n-a-a
222 notes · View notes
hopelesslygaysstuff · 4 months
Note
But her like having a gun on your head while you suck her strap✨✨✨✨✨✨
FEAR KINK YES
Making you take her deeper, threatening to shoot if you gag.
Russian Roulette omg, pulling the trigger and loving the way your pussy clamps down in fear around her strap every time you hear that hollow click. (She would never actually load the gun with bullets, but you don't need to know that.
She fucks your pussy with the barrel of the gun while you eat her out, your sobs muffled as you feverishly move your tongue over her pulsing clit. Her arousal soaks your chin, her hips rutting against your mouth as your cries turn into fear-filled whines. You cum harder than you ever have from the barrel of her gun.
188 notes · View notes
prohaloplayer · 9 months
Text
don't put a fucking russian roulette scene in your movie if you're going to have your characters go down to the 6th pull of the trigger just fucking blow their brains out on the first or second or third or fourth or fifth one please. better yet just make your characters suck each other off instead
203 notes · View notes
fawnpires · 2 years
Text
ROULETTE — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.
Tumblr media
꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: a game of russian roulette between you and your superiors doesn't end how you expected it to be.
꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: explicit sexual content, afab reader (afab anatomy, femme pet names) sexual tension, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, weapons, gun kink, size difference, dacryphilia, face-fucking, forced eye contact, begging, edging, overstimulation, oral sex (female and male receiving).
Tumblr media
"Christ, how many rounds does that thing got?"
A single handgun. A revolver to be exact. The item is wedged between the hands of your lieutenant's, printed skeleton-fingers gloves caressing the firm grip. He makes sure to avoid the trigger considering none of you out of the three knew if the damn thing was loaded or not. The dim blinking of the fluorescent light above illuminates below adding to the uneasy tension growing in the room.  
"Don't worry about it," Ghost says. "Even if the bloody thing is loaded, that's why we're here, to survive — and play."
You bite the inside flesh of your mouth, hands collected in your lap. You're sat at a rounded wood table with two other members of the 141 in a game of roulette — the idea executed by the lovely superior Ghost. It was assumed to be a game of somewhat fun, taking Ghost's word for it, even now with a loaded revolver involved. 
Soap doesn't share the same suspicions as you, clearly. His face seems egotistical and far from anxious while you take a quick glance at him from across the table, brawny arms crossed against his tactical chest while leaning and tipping in his chair. 
"How does the game exactly work?" You manage to form words out of your state of uneasiness. 
Ghost shifts his darkened stained eyes from the shifting pistol in his hands to you, gaze stiff and almost slightly annoyed. "You ever heard of Russian Roulette?" he asks you, your head nodding a simple yes to his question. "Well, it's exactly like that, except we don't know if there's anything loaded in here." His index finger and thumb flick at the side of the weapon.
"So it's a game of survival?" 
"Something like that, yes."
"Didn't know you were into these kinda games, L.T." Soap remarks from the side, a small chuckling escaping the side of his mouth. Ghost seems to let out a muffled scoff behind his mask before he pulls himself closer into the table, signaling with two fingers for both you and Soap to do the same. Your throat grows heavier by each passing second, a burden that wasn't going to be fading away anytime soon.
"Everyone ready?" He asks, spinning the cylinder. "Last chance."
You and Soap share a stare at each other before eyeing back to the lieutenant. There wasn't any backing out now. The cylinder came to unsteady stop, hand fully around the grip and lifting it, the muzzle coming to aim at Mctavish. You squint and narrow your eyes as the trigger is pressed half-way with a single finger, yourself looking away as the jammed noise of the gun going off rings off the walls of Ghost's room in the barracks. 
Relief washed over you. There sat Soap alive and well as the revolver withdraws back into place. The cylinder was spun once again before coming to an abrupt stop, much more faster than the first time. It rises and rests against the cloth material of Ghost's mask and you watch fully this time while he presses down on the trigger, practically playing with his life right there and now.
Another jammed click.
So far the game wasn't going as bad as you thought it was. The first thought of pure blood and gore splattered around the room in a drenched horror but now — it seemed somehow safe knowing that the wielded weapon hadn't been shot and the amount of trust that you put onto your superior. 
"Your turn." Ghost reminds off the side as he spins the cylinder for you, allowing it to go on for much longer. A buzz of worry bites as you, eyes following the turning object but it finally comes to a complete stop when it's worn out. Just like the two previous turns the muzzle was directed to the middle of your face, hole of the muzzle was all that you could focus on, and his finger resting on the trigger.
He seems to show a sign of rare worrisome as he stares at your fear stricken face, the small trembling movements of your shoulders. "Ya sure you don't wanna back out?" His head cocks to the side and the revolver weakens in his clutch awaiting your orders. You want to make the cowardly decision to do so but, there would be no fun in that, it just had to be accepted at this point. 
"I'm sure, go. Shoot." You confirm with quivery words.
The revolver is given its strength back in his single hand. It's steadier and more precise when picked back up and brought back to your head. Your eyelids shut and the last thing in sight being the front-facing view of the weapon. The almost silent sound of the trigger being lowered down made your muscles tense, awaiting the inevitable to happen.
Once again the gun is jammed, and no bullet through your skull. Your eyes flutter back open and Ghost brushes the gun's muzzle against the side of your face for a brief moment before spinning the cylinder, wether intentional or not, a remote sensation felt up inside your gut — new and unexplainable. Heat rose to your cheeks and the new feeling replaced the previous waves of anxiousness. 
You watch but turn away, half-conscious, the still gun to Soap's face. You expected another jammed click of the gun wadding the room but then came the piercing noise of the gun going off, ringing off the walls. Your blood ran cold at the sound, body frozen in place. Everything was stiff in the motions including your body, the air. Refusal was surely the appropriate reaction in this situation.
Though there was no sounds of struggle or the splotching sound of iron meeting brain matter, confusing you a little which caused you to rotate back around to figure out your suspicions. But there sat Soap with that smug expression on his face, the bullet discarded on the surface of the table. Soap lets out much louder chuckles as whips his head around to peer at you, Ghost slowly turning his head to you as well.
"Oh — oh my god, I thought you died," You stutter out to Soap, hands shaky. "Was that some kind of joke?"
"No. I'm just stickin' with the lieutenant's plan here." Soap replies.
"What? what plan?" You question the sergeant. 
He faces himself back to the masked man, giving a simple nod of secretive communication as he stands from his position on his chair with a small squeaking of the legs. Soap seems to mouth him a quick phrase before he winks, wandering quickly on his feet to the frame of the room's door and twisting the knob, leaving with a loud shut of the door behind him. All that was left was you, Ghost, and that stupid revolver of his still bounded on to him like a prized possession. 
"You want to tell me what was that about?" You ask Ghost while standing up and backing away a little, toying with your fingers and a trail of concern waiting to be answered. 
Ghost sighs and leans forward in his chair, hoisting himself up with a broad stance. He inches closer to your steadily moving body until you're up against the wall, palms flat and meeting the frigid matter of the wall. "You really want an answer to that, doll?" 
Doll. His unusual nickname for you has that heat returning to your cheeks and spreading like an infection throughout your body, your knees weak and struggling to keep yourself up if it weren't for your fingers clawing to keep you up on the wall. He's much near you now, not even inches away, his hand with the gun resting lowly where your right arm was. You stare at him with a doe aspect in your eyes, a heat of his own rising inside.
"Yes I do." You mutter quietly. 
The sound of radio silence fills in the quietness of the background other than the heavy breathing coming from the much larger man in front of you, he hesitates to give you a verbal reply but those eyes of yours pulls the words out of his lungs. "Well, might've heard from someone that you're still a virgin."
You're sweating. More profusely now with a reason. "Oh yeah? What else did that little birdie tell you?"
"Also heard that you're not the little innocent thing I think you are," His voice hitches as he leans down to brush the lips of his mask to the shell of your ear. "Is it true? You just want someone to bury their cock inside your tight little cunt? Ruining ya for another man?"
You squeeze your thighs together and steady yourself with your hands now moving from the wall and finding purchase on Ghost's tactical vest. Fingers dig into the material as he moves his one arm to rest a hand on one side of your hip, opposite hand displaying the revolver that advanced to where your thighs were pushed together. "Down. I want these off, love." The gun nudges at the fabric of your pants. 
Your eyes focus on him as his words tempt you, fingers extracting from their place on his chest and pulling at the sides of your pants, shoving them down your knees to expose you to the cold circulated air in only your underwear. He pins his gaze onto your bare lower half, gun returning to drag up your thighs slowly.
The warmth of his body diffused and gave comfort to your own. The barrel of the gun met with the thin layer separating your cunt from it, you gasp as the object starts to grind into you, a loud gasp erupting from your lips at the contact. His friction was extreme and your hands are back to gripping his vest, teeth meeting the soft flesh of your lips with a force that caused small drops of blood to blotch. 
"Always knew ya were some kind of freak, but god, you're more degenerate than I thought..." He whispers into your ear, continuing the rapid ministrations with his gun. 
Whimpers managed to break out behind your gnashed teeth, your hips moving on their own to meet the movements of the revolver, feeling your panties gaining moisture. Your nails are dug into his vest as you tried to avoid letting out more lewd commotions. The barrel is shoved more aggressively up into you, your legs clenching around it as you struggled to stand in place, your only source of support being his occupied vest.
"I'm the degenerate?" You pant out, "You're... you're the one with a revolver between my legs."
Your eyes narrow, the difficulty of keeping all your sounds to yourself beginning to become harder than it had been before. Your relationship with him was strained and laced with some kind of one-sided hatred, so no, you didn't want to award him fulfillment he was dying to deprive you off. 
"But I'm not the one getting off on this." He spits back.
His hostility was expected but somehow it was different than other times, it fulfilled a part of the sensation that creeped up in your guts. His careful yet sloppy movements causing your brain to be compelled into a hazy-like condition. Your eyes dart lower and even without moving your eyes, his prominent bulge was rubbed up against your thigh formed a hardened feeling. You clench your teeth heavier. 
"Looks like you went against your words," You comment, thigh kneading at his obvious erection. "You're more perverted than I am, sir."
He throws his back slightly and a low groan is extracted from his throat at your own attempt to give him pleasure, his eyes more obscured by the black paint as he glares at you through half-lidded eyes. 
"I'm afraid not." He murmurs, retreating the gun back from you. 
You nearly whine at the loss of connection, legs pushed together as you grind one thigh onto the other. Ghost releases his revolver onto the concrete below, both hands meeting to grab at his belt and hurriedly stripping it off, his tightly loose-fitting pants following but only kept at the top of his thighs. "Come closer — here." You follow his orders, walking with shaken legs and hands gripping your forearms to where he sat the foot of his bed. 
You stood in between his widened legs, his large hands surging and caressing both of your hips in gentle motions. You're pulled closer while one of hand travels to the waistband of your panties, moving past them as his gloved fingers cupped your pussy. The leather of his gloves added to the painful yet pleasurable stir that pooled in your stomach, his dead eyes of black around the skin looking up at you with a small admiration. It was almost horrifying. 
His fingers budged around your lips and had, at long last, encountered your clit. His glove fiber rubbing repeatedly at it which only added onto the pile of satisfaction. You wanted to deny the idea of even letting out one audible out for him this soon but despite it, you whimpered and let out a loud moan, his eyes still burning into you. 
With one hand clutching your hip and the other dug up deep inside you, it was a excitement you've never experienced before — not even with your own fingers. He was moving more harshly, his middle and ring finger propped up at your entrance, his palm right at where your clit was. Tears of full bliss prodded and threatened to spill from your eyes at the euphoric touch. 
"So good for me, aren't ya sweetheart?" He breathes out, more moans draining from your throat as you realize you're wrapped around his hand. 
You were gasping as his two fingers were pushed up into your cunt, eyes twitching as your arms fell to grip his dressed shoulders. You knew his hands were much more bigger. Wrapped around his usual rifles or handling reloading his guns, they were quite huge in size. Though now they were almost all inside you, those fingers made you feel entirely stuffed to the limit.
Without warning, he thrusts his fingers in and out of you slowly before speeding up, body jolting. Your immediate reaction was to grind on his entire hand, his palm again constantly brushing up on your clit. 
"F-Fuck!" You whined, whimpering and moaning with all of the vigor that held in your lungs. You leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his head, back arching as your legs contracted together in a stuttering motion. His breathing is harder on you as you moaned into his ear, the skull of his mask poking at the side of your head. It was a bit sore on your core but nonetheless, you didn't want him to stop — not now, — it was way too pleasant for it to be lost. Your fingers are clawing his clothed back while his hold on your hips grew jarring. 
Your eyes are wired shut as you felt yourself on the edge of a climax, begging to him to let you reach it. "Sir please... I want to cum, I need to cu—" As you felt yourself tipping off the verge and surrender to refined ecstasy, his movements came to an end, your arousal quickly exhausting out fo you. You're fast to widen your eyes and free the clasp you had on him, confusion in your eyes and boring into his own. 
Imprints of tears are left on the skin of your cheeks as Ghost chuckles from his mask. He bends you down with one hand sliding around you, pressing sinking into your lower back. His wet digit are pressed onto your lips, he mouths an open up while you just stare with a bewildered expression. You exhale as you broaden your mouth, the damp leather laid on your tongue. You lick around his fingers for some time before they're fallen back out, both of his hands resting on top each of his thighs.
"On your knees.” He growls with dull eyes boring into your own. 
And you did exactly what he asked you to do. Your legs giving out from the loss of your orgasm and dropping to the floor — sitting on top of your heels. You’re still out of your head, foggy and wiped clean with no original thoughts. Although, he brings you out of it with a soft stroke to your cheek, you melting almost instantly into him. His prominent bulge sits in front of you while he returns his hand back to his thigh. You give him a blank stare before focusing back onto the tent in his pants, desperately undoing the zipper with calculated fingers, chucking his pants down his legs. He lets out a small laugh at the look on your face. 
“Such a good girl.” He says, resting his hand on top of your head.
You stare at him with doe eyes through your lashes before making your way into his black boxers, freeing his erection from its cotton confines. 
Your eyes sparkle with adoration. His cock is thick and leaking with precum, a distinguished vein running through the middle. Sheepishly, you take his base in both of your hands considering the amount of strength you needed to handle it with. A dryness in your throat spreads but that doesn’t stop you from darting your tongue out, licking the tip once to rid of the drooling wetness. You then gather the courage to wrap your lips around the tip, sucking carefully while his grip on your hair is more tough. Surprisingly you were quick to learn how to suck him off despite it being your first time. 
It was moderately exhausting to fully take him in your mouth bearing into mind of his size. You took him in further as the tip hit the back of your throat, tears brimming at the borderlines of your eyes. Your jaw was unhinged and open enough to take him until his base was fully engulfed in your mouth, your hand jerking him off at the same time. 
Drool pooled at the sides of your mouth and wet his cock without shame, sucking harder around him as your cheeks hallowed out. Your lips were stinging and paralyzed, backing out with a small pop while your hand proceeded to jerk him off rapidly. Fingers slid across his tip and pressed down onto the sensitive skin, a husky groan deriving from the pit of his throat. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this for a beginner, sweetie.” he praises with his heavy Manchester accent, a smile formed on your lips.
You returned to his cock, tongue tracing his vein before sucking at the tip and taking the entirety down your throat once more. It was a challenge to do so but you coped. He slid it deep down your throat to the point where a lump was apparent, your breathing becoming ragged, vulgar noises gurgling through your maneuvers. The insignificant portion of oxygen you were gaining made your head throb and spin with a small pressure.
One of hands gripped with a force at your head until he placed both of them at each side of your head, accompanying you faster.
Looking up at him with fluttering eyes, his head was fully thrown back, the angle of his Adam's apple in sight bobbing up and down with every guttural groan. His hefty grasp that was on both sides of your head almost made you feel like if you were about to explode around his cock. You moan swiftly and the sound vibrates around him. 
Your whole form quivers, that arousal starting in your cunt again, causing you to grind against the floor underneath. His groans echo and elevate as you viciously take him more hastily with your grinding. 
"You're doing so good for me, fuck." He grunts, the muscles of his abs flexing as you're taking him till his base. A warm wave of his cum floods your throat, having trouble breathing through your nose when he did stop you right at his abdomen. You're hauling him back in your throat as he tried to pull it out, swallowing every drop of his leftover cum. He's overstimulated, distinctly, but he let's you do so before gently guiding you off him. 
You cough and hold yourself up, gasping for air to fill your once blocked lungs. He doesn't hesitate picking you up off your limp position on the floor and settling you on the mattress still with your orgasm unfinished. Shameful whines emerged from you as you watch him undress himself of his remaining clothes, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable to handle any longer.
When he's finished baring himself of his clothes, he's stood at the foot of the bed, each of his hands gripping at your thighs and spreading them apart. You grin with your mind fogged up, catching his attention. 
"Eager aren't you?" He comments before grasping at the hem of your underwear, pulling down your thighs and leaving them to be abandoned at your ankles. You shiver at the air coming into contact with your now revealed cunt. Your legs are self consciously trembling while he inclines down into you, arms in a clutch around your thighs and holding your legs up to his shoulders.
His thumb and pointer finger pinch at the bottom of his mask and he lifts it to the brink of his nose, a light stubble peppering his vaguely sharp jawline. You were so entangled in his looks you didn't realize he was leaning down again, his eyes boring up at you as his mouth licks a straight stripe up your exposed pussy. A sudden warmth flooded your lower half as you legs tightened on his shoulders and around his head, eyes rolling back into your head.
A loud whine blurted from your lips as his tongue carefully stroked your lips, diving it inside a few times. He would often flick at your clit and watch such succulent noises scream from your mouth. Your juices collected at your entrance and on the exterior of his mouth which would be licked off by him. 
You would have never expected yourself to turn out like this ever. A wailing, whining and obedient mess for your superior. You messily grated your hips against his face every so often to match up with his patterns but the tight firm grasp on your thighs would just constrain you to the mattress. 
"My god, lieutenant...." Your voice is whiny and overstimulated when his nose is ramming into your sensitive clit, back arching off towards the ceiling at the contact.
Your legs are clenched impossibly tight around him while your head is thrown back into a pillow, your fingers have no source of support which concludes them to be either flailing around or bunching at the sheets. Salty tears ran down your cheeks and neck, eyes looking down at the man who ate you starved at your pussy. "Please sir... I want to cum — I need to..." 
"You need to?" He asks keeping up with his rhythm on your cunt, a teased tone in his voice at the question.
"Yes!" You near scream at him.
He just watches your crumbling figure with glassy eyes and all, your chest heaving with each breath you took. "Then beg for it." Ghost commands faintly. "Beg for me to make you cum."
Frustration ran in your veins at his order but there was no alternative way to reach your pleasure unless you allowed him to torture you any longer with his cutting off. 
"Please sir," You gasp out under him, insanity getting to you. He smiles smugly on his displayed mouth at your first phrase, his eyes having a sort of gleam in them for the first time you've ever seen. "I need you — make me cum,"
"See? Wasn't that hard." He mutters before continuing to eat you out. 
This time his lips were closed around your clit, sucking like his life depended on it. You're spasming and moaning out of fulfillment, fingers harrowing into his soft sheets which smelled of a strong cologne. Your fingers manage to make their way to one of his hands, pawing at them which gifts you a questionable stare from him. 
He's tender at your motions and extends his hand out to wrap around your more smaller hand, his bigger fingers entwined with yours as he flatten and squeezed your hand down. The leather on your skin drove you mad, mangling your hand with his in an intense ripple of emotions. He gets more hostile and you grind your hips against him with loud whimpering, his mouth switching between your lips then back to your clit for a longer period of time.
The knot in your stomach returns as he sent you on edge again, it building up in your stomach more faster this time. "Ghost, I'm gonna-"
A wave of ecstasy shot through every limb and corner of your body, mind turning into a bottomless pit of a void as you moaned the loudest you've ever had. Ghost proceeds to suck at your clit throughout your orgasm, his muscle on your cunt sending repeated shocks up into your spine. Tears flowed down as the pressure had became too much, though it did feel like you were in heaven. Your unable to form words and instead communicate with messy phrases and noises.
Your cunt had grown sensitive, limbs stiff as Ghost licked one final stripe up your pussy, those stiff limbs coming to life for a brief second.
He watches as you bathe in the aftershocks of your reached orgasm, he sat between your legs and grabbed something from the bedside table, a sharp object. You watched as he slid it in the middle of your shirt, cutting the fabric and revealing your bra underneath that cushioned your breasts. He then grabbed at your waist and forced you to sit up in front of him, your arms clinging to his neck as he does.
The black paint remained around his eyes but some of it wiped away with his sweat. His mask was still pulled up to his nose, his mouth agape and breathing. What was left of your shirt was rejected onto the floor, Ghost's hand circling around your torso and unclipping your bra for you, fully stripping you of every clothes you had worn.
Without warning he pushes you up against the headboard and wraps his hand around your neck, lips colliding with yours in a rough manner. He feasted onto you as your breasts smushed into his chest, a moan followed with his kiss. He took advantage of your expanded mouth and slid his tongue inside, tasting every crevice of you. 
The taste of your own juices could be made out when sucking on his pink muscle, a grunt coming from him. The skull of his mask with sharp ridges prodded at your cheeks but it wasn't that big of a deal for you.
He remained possessed in your lips as he tugged at his boxers, laying you flat against the bed again. He pulled back from you and moved down to your neck and breasts, leaving love bites on the way. His handles fondle at your breasts while his mouth takes one of your tits in his mouth, sucking which drove a moan from you. 
Your legs are enclosed over his hips as he settled his palm against your pussy, rubbing it right over your clit before his ring and middle fingers are delving into you. Your cunt more wet from your climax and causes it to make squelching sounds as he dove up into you. 
His fingers are taken away and gripped at your sides, pushing you down harder. One hand pulls down at his boxers and his cock reaches to his abdomen, the size making you suck a breath in and drool. He pumps his cock in his free hand, precum already starting to leak from the tip again. 
"You ready for me, sweetheart?" He asks you, keeping in mind that this was your first time and to avoid any painful events to occur. 
"Mmhm, just please, be gentle..." You say biting your lip, "Then go hard on me."
He pauses before nodding, positioning himself and stretching your legs vastly. Your brain had gone to mush as you could only stare up into his mask, watching and waiting to be taken by him. His finger are gripped harder as he leisurely sinks into you, a dragged groan leaving his mouth. 
Your eyes narrow while your back arches off. "Fuck!" your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the extensive pain of the stretch. It had felt like you were being split in half but also being stuffed to the maximum. His length implied that there was no stopping and it just kept inching into you.
His pelvis rested on your pussy as he fit inside with a low groan. It was painful taking him but it didn't take long for it to be converted into pleasure. One of your eyes had twitched closed when his balls came into contact with your clit, mouth wide and producing whimpers. You convulse in pleasure and push yourself down onto him, "You're so fucking big, Ghost..." you whine into the air.
You feel him pulse inside of you at your words, "Shit, you're tight," he returns through gritted teeth. The sloppy sounds of your pussy and the combined noises spilling from both of you bouncing off the walls. Your arousal made his cock slick and easier for him to thrust into you each time, satisfaction hitting every nerve in your body.
Your clit was oversensitive at this point against his pounding, writhing for him by each thrust. His repetitive grunts clashing with your high-pitched moans, boosting your progress towards your second orgasm. 
"Lieutenant," Your voice whimpered out as you tightened around him, earning a growl from his lips. "Gonna cu-"
Jumbled blur of words spoke into the air as he grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders while he hunched over you, the new position sending you into a state of euphoria. Sweat from behind his mask merged with his lightly fading eye paint, dark droplets dripping onto your stomach decorating it in spots of black. 
"Call me Simon," He pants out, "I prefer it when I'm fucking you."
His words sent you over the borderline, a sharp cry of Simon screaming from your mouth as you arched your sweaty layered body off the mattress at an incredibly high rate. It stung a little when you succumbed to your orgasm, eyes glued shut as the bursting feeling was nothing but discarded by Ghost — his cock continuing to drill into you through your orgasm. 
All conscious of yours is restored piece by piece when Ghost pulls out of you, that sensation of being full no longer there. He keeps your legs high and exhibited on shoulders while he catches his breath, hands loosening their grip on your hips but still there. The larger man takes the time to lean forward further, stretching your legs almost to the brim of the headboard. His stare is more intense this time, petrifying to the mind.
Suddenly he's slammed into you again, your overstimulated pussy already hypersensitive to only the slightest touch of his hips or how his tip brushed against your cervix. 
"Simon! I- It's too much!" You whine with hot tears collecting down your face. Everything felt too sore to keep going but you couldn't get enough of him. 
The angle in which he fucked you was more extreme than the previous positions he bended you over in — heavenly would be the right word to describe it. With his cock pulsing against your walls and your cunt clenching around, the pleasure was equal. Your hands crawl behind him and ground onto his back, nails digging into the skin leaving red streaks of lines. 
"Just a little more, doll" He reassures you comfortingly, his hand stroking your face that once held your hip. He wants to keep his anchorage and allows his hand to fall back to your hip, pounding himself harder into you. Your pussy gushes around him and a hand collapses from his back to his inked forearm, clawing at it with all your strength while you saw stars in your vision. 
Those dark half-lidded eyes of his never failed to cherish you, to study you with a raw emotion. His name, his real name, is chanted into the air while your brain swore you saw double of him as you gave into another orgasm. A small line of blood adorned his cock, which must've been from the first time he was inside you. Thankfully it no longer stung when he fucked you and all you felt was how good it actually was.
He manhandled you gently but at the same time, violently. Surely bruises were going to be left on you the next day — from his mouth and his grasp. You sobbed more for him despite being at your limit, all of your stability gone. 
You had started to grind and match with his thrusts again before he hoists your hips upwards, pistoning himself right up at your g-spot. You squealed as he repeatedly hit up so far into you with a set precision, picking up the pace in at an animalistic speed. Your legs spasmed in the air as he grunted above you, more of his sweat coming into a mixture of yours as it drips down onto your body. 
"Give me one more," He stares down at your squirming form, "I know you can — fuck, — do it."
As much as it was tiring to have another orgasm out of the numerous ones you already yielded to, you couldn't help it. His grinding hips pounding faster into you and attacking at your cervix without any rest. You cry at the added stimulation to both your clit and g-spot, putting yourself through yet another more intense orgasm. Heat overtook your body as you came, your walls clenching on Ghost's cock like your life depended it. "Simon! Mm- I-" Any sentences you tried to create just came out as incoherent babbles or moans. All you could do was stare into those dark eyes of his, those alluring eyes of his.
A low grunt left his throat as he pulled out of you, hot ropes of cum splattering onto your stomach. His seed dribbled down at your entrance mixed with your own arousal, a smile twitching on your lips at it. He falls down onto you with his head resting in the crook of your shoulder, soon climbing off and sitting up-right next to you. Your head is guided to lay on his sweaty chest with his hand around you.
He reaches for a clean rag that happens to be on his bedside table, reaching down to clean you and him up while soft kisses were pressed into the temples of your forehead. "Sorry for doin' too much on you for your first time." He apologizes, chuckling.
"No worries." You say, formed together. "Besides, I wanted my first time to be a little rough."
His head crooks to the side, eyes staring at you in disbelief. A scoff puffs from him before you're gifted another chuckle. Your legs squirm a little at the fabric of the rag wiping down the excess liquids that were at your thighs and down his legs.
"We should play your games more." You say. "Without Johnny, of course."
Ghost shakes his head, a discreet smile behind his coverage. "You little minx."
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
miss-multi45 · 1 month
Text
Blackmail
Hoodie x FEM!Reader
Tumblr media
cw: no smut, mentions of a gun (revolver), reader has an extremely shitty boyfriend, nicknames said: 'babe', 'babygirl', 'gorgeous girl', 'pretty thing', 'good girl', dead dove do not eat, I based this off the scene in euphoria season 2 episode 6 (the scene where nate puts a gun to maddy's head), mentions of stalking, ghostface quote, mentions of infidelity, gaslighting, swearing, hoodie is a murderous gentleman. come get your food (dddne pun)
Tumblr media
It had been six hours since you last saw him.
Now don't take this the wrong way. You weren't the kind of girl to get sad when your boyfriend wasn't by your side again after being gone for five seconds. Quite the opposite.
Liam was a piece of shit, but somehow you loved him. So the reason you had been counting the hours until he got back home was that you had a sneaking suspicion that he had been sleeping with other girls, but god you had hoped and prayed that it wasn't true.
After a while of sitting on the corner of your bed with your head in your hands and planning out what you were going to say to him, the front door finally opened and Liam walked in and right up to where you were.
"I'm home, babe." He said as soon as he entered the room, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you looked up. He sat on his side of the bed and began to undress for bed.
"Where have you been?" You stood up, crossing you arms, finally confronting him despite your fear of him.
He chuckled, both nervously and darkly, "Babygirl, what do you mean?" Liam turned to look at you.
"You've been out all day, you haven't answered my calls or replied to my texts, and you didn't leave any notes or messages." You listed them off, making sure to stare directly into his stupid pretty brown eyes.
"Wha - babygirl, I have a job?" He backed himself up, but you had already prepared for this conversation.
"It's Sunday. Your job is out on Sundays." You walked backwards, sitting on your desk chair to keep the distance, because something didn't feel safe about this.
And almost on cue, you heard a metallic click. "What was that?" Your heart dropped, you recognised that click. It may seem stupid, but you had watched enough action movies to know that click belonged to a gun being loaded.
"Liam. What was that?" You pushed your chair back, even though the bullet could reach you in any corner of the room.
A terrifying emptiness took over his features, a hauntingly calm expression. He pulled the gun out of his jacket pocket, standing up and slowly coming towards you while the deadly cold expression stayed on his face.
The space between you and him was big enough for you to stand up from your chair and jump onto the bed. You threw a pillow at him as hard as you could, scared tears starting to develop and fall down your cheeks.
Liam laughed at that, it appeared he found your fear a laughing matter. "Aw, why you crying?" He creeped onto the bed, climbing on top of you and gently pressing the gun to your temple.
The cold metal that was suddenly against your head clicked, and that's when it hit you. He was playing a twisted game of Russian Roulette.
He switched to pressing the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger a few times to no avail. So, he got up and left the room to load the gun with more than one bullet.
But that didn't involve the bang of a gun, and it didn't involve a body thudding to the floor. But it definitely didn't involve a voice saying: "Smallest gun I've ever used."
Several seconds after the voice spoke, you quietly got up and closed the door, crawling back onto your bed and burying your head into a pillow to silently sob into it.
However, your crying session was interrupted by the door opening again. Heavy footsteps walking towards you, the bed sunk from someone's weight behind you.
"Now what happened here?" It was the same voice as before, commenting on the size of the gun. The voice clearly had a filter over it, but it sounded like a male. Stuffing your face further into the cushion, you tensed up when you felt a leather gloved hand gently stroke and pet your side as if the person knew what had just happened and wanted to comfort you.
"Sorry about your boyfriend," Oh, God. "All those muscles didn't help much." Liam was dead, shot and killed.
Whoever it was didn't seem to like the fact that your face was shoved into a pillow, so they grabbed your face by the chin and turned you over to look at them. "Oh, what a pretty thing." Your cheeks had tears marks, and you were still crying.
"Scared, huh?" Now that you were looking at them, it was obvious they were a man. A very broad and tall man, also quite dominant by the looks of it. He had a turmeric yellow hoodie and a black and red ski mask
You sniffled, and the hooded man chuckled and cocked his head before speaking again. "Stop crying." He wiped a tear with his thumb, moving his arm under your back while snaking the other under your waist.
He lifted you in a bridal carry, but you squirmed in his grasp. "That's enough. A gorgeous girl like you shouldn't be in the same house as the dead body of a shit muppet. Is that clear?"
Almost frantically, you used your sweater paws to wipe the tears away. "I want an answer. Preferably a verbal one." the man demanded, and you answered. "Yes." your voice quivered while you spoke.
"There we go." He started walking out of your room and out of the house, into the vast woodland expanse behind your house. "Now, I'm gonna tell you why I did what I did. And you're going to listen." Not once did he put you down.
"I've been stalking your dead boyfriend for three months now, and I only got the order to kill him two days ago." Wait, 'got the order'? What did that mean?
"I didn't need to kill him for another week, but I did it early because of what I saw him do to you, pretty thing." He continued. Oh, he saw everything. "Pointing a gun to your head, laughing at your fear. You don't do that to a woman, especially not your own fucking girlfriend."
You began to stop crying, instead just looking up at him with glassy eyes and rosy cheeks. But after a while you felt a headache build up, and your vision grew blurry and you saw black dots.
"That's it, good girl." That was the last thing you heard.
Tumblr media
75 notes · View notes
devildomcrybaby · 8 months
Note
Chuuya Nakahara + gun play maybe? Or maybe a more vanilla kink like bondage if you’re not comfortable :)
My beloved anon you're a disgrace, I couldn't manage to think about anything else for days
Chuuya Nakahara ♡ gun play
Minors do not interact. 18+ only
Warnings: the obvious, dubcon, profanity, Chuuya shoots a rat? It's supposed to be a metaphor I'm sorry about this, reader is tied up, enemies
Your heart is pounding in your ears, you can faintly hear is the erratic pace of your breathing. Nervousness? Fear? Wouldn't that please Chuuya.
Perish the thought, fancy hat.
Your bloodshot eyes are looking at him in pure rage, your teeth biting the cloth gagging you, wet with your saliva. You wish it was his flesh instead. Oh but you'll get to it.
"What a sight", Chuuya sighs dramatically. "Harmless and quiet. I could almost bear your presence like this". You dig your fingers in your chains forcefully, chipping a few nails in doing so.
"It suits you" he proceeds "Murky, empty and moist. The natural surroundings of rats". You grunt. God if only the metal would loosen or fracture a bit. You just need a crack and you'd be able to wipe that infuriating grin off his face.
Chuuya takes a few loud steps towards you. The wet and slimy ground making the noise of each stride echo through the room. When he gets right in front of you, he pauses for a moment. He's so close that you can hear the sound of his breathing alternating with the sinister rustle in the shabby cellar.
You're taken aback when you feel the cold muzzle of his gun against your jaw. You gasp when you see his finger moving confidently on the trigger. You hear familiar noise of it being pulled.
"Boom".
It's unloaded. Piece of shit.
"God I'd pay a million dollars to see that look on your face again" he doesn't sound amused though. "Maybe I will".
Complying to Chuuya's wish, an ill-fated rat scoured from a hole in the room towards the stairs. Chuuya stretches his arm out to your side and you jump at the sudden racket. The animal's entrails splatter around the floor in a pool of blood and you snap your head back at the man in front of you.
He runs the head of his gun down your cheek. Beads of sweat slide down your neck and your heaving chest. Fucking hell.
"Do you think the soldiers of the Tsar knew the chances of a gun firing when they played Russian roulette?" he presses the gun under your jaw, right on your pulse point. "They say they did it to get distracted from the stench of the rotting corpses of their comrades. Or do you think that they just relied upon the fate?" there's a long pause. Chuuya hums, staring off. Then his eyes focus on you again. He runs the gun down your neck with unnerving sluggishness, then he uses it to move some of your hair out of the way and trace the opening of your shirt. He makes the first button pop, then the second one and another more until he could see the top of your breasts pushed up by your bra.
Chuuya is enjoying having you in thrall to him way more than he anticipated, way more than he's willing to acknowledge. He pulls down the cloth gagging you.
"Only a fresh-faced novice would expect to play Russian roulette with a pistol" you inveigh and wipe the saliva at the corners of your mouth with your tongue.
"Too bad" he utters in a distracted whisper. Chuuya pushes his gun against your lips.
"What?" you ask with a sneer that would be amused if you didn't want to rip his head off. "Are you that desperate for a little attention, Chuu-chan? Been feeling lonely?". God, each time you open your mouth he wants to bite your tongue. Insufferable stuck-up little punk thinking she's Kazuo Taoka.
"Want me to lick it so you can go home and rub one to it imagining that was your dick instead?" you lay it on thick.
You kiss the tip of his gun, then run your tongue from the rear sight to the tip, eyes set on his.
"Same way as you sitting in your empty apartment drinking 1964 Romanée-Conti pretending to be in boss' place, you fucking ratfink" he means to threaten you with the knowledge of your treacherous designs but his voice comes out breathless, a blush spreading on his cheeks and nose.
Chuuya doesn't give you time to think of another of your godawful comebacks. He swiftly reaches for your underwear ripping it in one single motion. "Be fucking still". You gasp when the cold metal meets your now bare pussy and widen your eyes when you realize that he's trying to guide it inside you. Chuuya grits his teeth, fist clenching around the handle.
You scoff. "It won't fit". Your tone is almost bored, as if you're instructing a silly child on the most basic notion imaginable. "Big ass gun. It's got to be an extension of your ego to make up for the lack of inches in other departments".
"Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll give you something that will". Chuuya unhooks your chains and you rub your sore wrists, then he presses his gun against your jaw again.
"Don't bite" he warns you, then crushes his lips against yours, a hand reaching down to unzip his pants.
It's going to be a long night. If he entertains you enough to make you forget you want to blow his brains out, that is.
158 notes · View notes
actual-changeling · 4 months
Text
the monday time loop was perfect and incredibly painful but imagine the same thing for the pusher episode.
they always end up in that hospital room. modell always has a gun and forces them to play his twisted version of russian roulette. the first chamber is always empty—and this is where the record stops and the needle scratches.
sometimes, mulder dies but he isn't supposed to, that bullet is not meant for him, and back to the start we go.
most of the time, he points the gun at scully, pulls the trigger, and watches her blood spill across the floor. she doesn't see the fire alarm, she reaches for his gun, she doesn't step back fast enough—a myriad of variables resulting in her death.
over and over. mulder has to watch her die over and over.
it's not a slow, creeping death like the one they have to face in the bank. this one is violent and quick, it's a trigger pulled against every single thought and instinct in mulder's body.
it's guilt. over and over and over. the needle keeps skipping, the song refuses to continue until they finally get it right. her lips move seemingly on their own accord, forming the same handful of words as she stares down the barrel of a gun.
look in the mirror. look in the mirror. look in the mirror.
until the bullet is in the third chamber, she sees the fire alarm and activates it in time. until mulder points the gun away from her and at modell instead.
the bullet is meant for him, and they are meant to stand and watch him waste away with their hands intertwined.
still, when they leave the hospital (alive, together) the guilt lingers in mulder's heart, and an odd phantom pain is lodged in scully's throat. she distantly remembers sprays of red and her knees buckling, a nightmare haunting her into the daylight, and her voice getting lost in her last breaths.
look in the mirror.
mulder doesn't ask, neither of them tells, but they go home together that night; his, hers, it doesn't matter as long as she can fit herself against his chest. as long as he can wrap her in an embrace and they can listen to their hearts beating beating beating past midnight and into the twilight.
110 notes · View notes