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m-ayo-o · 1 year ago

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SWEENEY TODD X JUJUTSU KAISEN

KINKTOBER V: KNIFE PLAY starring: f!reader, kento nanami, satoru gojo synopsis: a young female barber colludes with her sweet customers, offering her services in return for payment. warnings: horror themes ⋆⁺ bloody murder, spirits + curses ⁺⋆ very submissive reader. honorifics use [mr. + sir]. pet name use. knife play. fingering. f. oral. impact play. unprotected sex. kidnapping (lol). restraints. lil somno. cnc. dub-con. m. oral. overstimulation. wc ⋆ one: 2.7k ⋆ two: 2.9k ⋆ total: 6k :(

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact consent + protection = necessary. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

After your parent’s untimely death, at fifteen and with nowhere else to turn, you were forced into inheriting your grandfather’s barber shop, formerly known as Sweeney Todd’s.

You always knew it was haunted; a hollow pit of stained floorboards and troubled souls, the single, free standing mirror still spattered with encrusted blood mixed with rust.

But thanks to your steely resolve and blind naivety, you’ve survived and worked in this hell hole for nearly ten years.

Not without paying a price, however. The malevolent spirits in the walls have slowly seeped into your mind and body during your restless nights, the fear eroding your soul away.

You’ve been carved out and corrupted, left with a legacy and a razor blade sharper than death’s scythe.

And your customers.

Oh, your sweet, charming customers who pass through your living nightmare, only hearing whispers of what’s happened here.

And they certainly don’t expect a seemingly bright, young woman such as yourself to be driven by evil.

The blade in your hand tells you otherwise. With the memory instilled in the handle, guiding your motions with murderous intent, eternally hellbent on revenge.

Luckily for you, you’ve had some reliable customers who pay in full, often leaving generous tips, and have been your saving graces in holding you on the edge of sanity and off the streets.

In all these years, you’ve only succumbed to killing a few of your most treacherous clients. But now you’re running dry, with only your innocent patrons remaining. You can’t bring yourself to hurt them.

That brings you to this evening, where you find yourself striking up an unusual deal with one of your favourite customers.

Your Tuesday six o’clock slot arrives precisely on time every week, sporting a myriad of suits, ranging from business attire, pinstripes and cufflinks, to more outlandish combinations that make you wonder where he might be wearing them.

Regardless of his style, your head never fails to whip around when he enters your shop, watching him strip off his jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

However wrong it may be to ogle one of your loyal customers, you can’t help but daydream about his body as he undresses himself, watching his hulking shoulders emerge, with those hefty straps digging into the muscles.

From the first time you met, his powerful energy has never failed to make you nervous.

And this evening is no exception.

Your eyes have lingered over his body for too long, imagining how it’d feel to run your hands through his hair, down the back of his neck, over the swell of his chest. Then you’d slink your fingers over that leather belt, toying and–

“Any chance of a shave?”

His eyes make contact with yours from behind those unusual glasses.

You jolt upright, your thoughts interrupted, then let out a quiet sigh of embarrassment. It’s not the first time he’s caught you. Still, the way his lips twitch into a little smirk upon seeing your blush makes it almost worth it.

You’ve gotten to know the reserved man slowly, learning the details of his routines, including how he likes his tea and which newspaper he reads.

You find yourself darting about for him, so eager to please, earning the softest thanks from the curt man.

And soon enough, he starts returning your longing stares, his sharp eyes following while you prepare your supplies.

He watches you bend and reach, admiring your figure in that cute pinafore, and the way your apron cinches around your waist.

He has to loosen his tie from the heat he’s feeling in his body, tugging at the material impatiently before returning his focus to you. You have his full attention. He gets lost in a deep stare, watching the feminine sway of your hips as you step up to him.

He clears his throat, snapping himself out of a gaze as you approach and begin your work.

His stern and quiet presence gives way to many silences, creating such an unbearable tension between the two of you that’s only fueled by the intimate nature of your services.

It simmers, like a pot on the stove, threatening to bubble over each time you lay a delicate hand on his face, maintaining his perfect image with every precise sweep of your blade over his jaw.

Your proximity to him is killing you– every fleeting touch threatens to develop into something more. You can feel him reacting to your body, craving more and more, until your imagination runs away with you and it becomes difficult to focus.

You often find yourself holding your breath, struggling to keep your hand steady. But you must. You cannot leave a single nick on his skin.

But this time, when you’re finishing the details of his shave, wiping the last of the cream from his neck and applying his favourite aftershave, he strikes up a rather dark conversation.

“I know what your blade needs,” his voice is low, discerning eyes focusing on the silver in your hand.

You pause and blink in disbelief, “...excuse me?”

Setting the expensive bottle of liquid on the dresser, you bury the razor in the front pocket of your apron and try to brush off his comment.

“Look, I know you’ve got a nasty curse. But it’s far too late for a spirit like that to be exorcised.”

You’re taken aback, eyes flying wide.

How could he possibly know the details of your deepest secret?

“But, I can bring you someone who will help.”

“H-how–”

He gives you a wry smile, continuing to offer you his solution. “I’ll bring you my ex-boss. You can do whatever you want with him.”

He recounts the man’s crimes, as if to justify the act for you.

His usually soft voice is now laced with malcontent, recalling how he was worked to the bone, his greedy boss taking advantage of good people, stealing their money and ruining their lives.

“I would love nothing more than to see his ugly head sliced clean from his neck.”

You can’t help but shiver, hearing a venomous tone surface from the polite man, your ears enrapt by every hiss and twist of his tongue.

He wants justice. He wants revenge.

And that speaks to you. It speaks to the razor blade in your pocket.

So you get wrapped up in your scheming long after his shave is finished, and agree that he should lure your next victim to your shop.

“Come here,” he leans back on the red seat, “I’ll help you with your little problem. How about it?”

You nod and swallow thickly, feeling the heat from his body through that vivid blue shirt as you edge closer. One of his big hands finds your pinafore, now tugging you directly in between his legs.

“I’ll even pay you for it,” he looks up at you, a smile playing on his usually stiff lips, “half now, half later, okay?”

You grab your wallet in anticipation of receiving a wad of cash from the man.

��Oh no,” he lets off a dry laugh, pushing your hand back, “I won’t be paying you with money, silly girl.”

You freeze, the weight of his words sinking in ever so slowly.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

He gives your body a final tug, bringing you flush with his crotch.

“mm–” you can’t control the nervous whimper when you feel his intimidating bulge on your small body.

“N-no it’s ok, Mr. Nanami, sir, bring me the man, and that’s enough.” You stutter out, trying to back up, helplessly caught in his grip.

“I want to help you,” he coos, big hands pressing firmly on your back.

“Now, why don’t you show me what that knife can do?”

His eyes dart to your pocket, signalling for you to bring out the cursed blade once more.

You obey, flicking the straight razor open and twirling it through your fingers, his eyes following your skilled movements.

“Very good,” he watches you firmly grip the handle, “now come and sit down.”

He pats his lap then spreads your thighs to get you perched nice and close, legs reflexively wrapping around his waist.

“That’s it,” he takes your hand, the one holding the blade, and brings it to his throat.

“No, no don’t, sir–” his lips twitch, enjoying the panicked look on your face.

Your arm all but freezes, submitting to his tight grip as he tugs at your dress, bringing your face inches from his.

“Will this payment” his eyes drop to your lips, “suffice?”

You nod urgently. He’s got you wound as tight as a bow string, the tension bound to snap any second.

“Then kiss me.”

Petrified of your perfectly sharp blade on his neck, you lean in gingerly and place an ever so delicate peck to his lips.

This earns you a little smile.

“Don’t be a prude, sweetheart.”

“Ah– w-wait–”

He has a knife on his throat. How else am I supposed to kiss him??

You lean in again, sealing his lips, giving him a little a lick… his mouth opens, and god it’s getting hot.

Every movement is agonisingly slow, tonguing turning to sucking, then biting, until you’re moaning and breathing hard and fast, starting to grind on your handsome customer’s lap.

Then his free hand works between your legs, fingers skimming under the material, finding the slick waiting for him.

“Ohh, pretty girl, what’s this?” He groans, sliding through your folds.

You were probably like this from the moment he caught you staring. Every time he looks at you, it just does things to your body.

Then you have to do your job, caressing his perfect face, your eyes drinking in his beautiful features all evening. You really have to bite your tongue some nights, desperately holding back your desire for his attention.

He pulls the knife away, allowing you to close the blade and slip it into your pocket safely.

“You know, I love a girl who gets all wet from a little kissing,” he comments, starting to press at your entrance with two big fingers. Your small hands find his shoulders now, gripping tightly to balance yourself as he works his way in.

Your head flies back when he starts arching and digging his fingers deeper, making you squirm and gush on his lap until his tan pants are soaked with your juices.

“Mr. Nanami–” you can’t help but ride his fingers, enjoying the press on that tight spot, his thumb slipping over your clit, “sir– I, I’m–”

He cuts you off with another deep kiss, his free hand on the back of your neck, squeezing as he tongues you.

“Call me Kento, darling,” his voice, sweet and dark like caramel, is all it takes for that hot pleasure to pulse and spread. Once, twice, three times, you thrust onto his hand.

He continues his movements, slow and deep.

“That’s it,” his lips remain over yours as he lifts you and presses your ass onto the wooden dresser.

“Shall we see how wet you can get?” He asks, proceeding to kneel and bury his face between your legs, now tapping at your clit with his tongue.

Your eyes roll back in your head, arms barely able to support your body, your legs shaking with another orgasm as he starts to suck on your bud with fresh need.

“Make a mess, fuck–” he slurs over your wet heat, sinking his tongue into you now.

And after the most eager, thorough tongue fucking of your life, your head still spinning from the rush, he finally pulls away.

“When the job is complete,” he peppers a few final kisses over your throbbing clit, “you’ll get the full payment.”

You can only shudder and nod, watching him stand before you again.

⋆₊

A few days later, you recognise a new customer as your target. You get him seated and start your routine, applying shaving foam and readying your blade.

You slip the cool silver over his jaw, down his neck, then tilt it suddenly, making his breath catch in shock.

Your eyes flick to his in the mirror, before slitting his throat, “Nanami sends his regards.”

Blood squirts and flows from his veins, dribbling down his slackening body as you tap the lever below the chair, sending him to his grave.

Your blade is satisfied for now. But that one was easy.

⋆₊

Hearing the clock chime six the following Tuesday, Nanami returns.

Pleased with the news, he gets straight to fulfilling his payment.

His shave can wait.

You would’ve gladly accepted his money– which he seems to have plenty of– but you both agree that this way is more mutually beneficial.

So you accept the way he presses your body against the dresser, lifting you and sinking his hands into the fat of your thighs.

And you accept his hungry kisses, the languid thrusts of his hips, and the way he groans into your mouth.

Then he reaches for your blade, placing it in your pretty little hand.

“Can’t believe– mm, you did it,” he breathes into the gap between your lips.

He compliments and praises you, then tells you to press the blade on his throat.

“Do it. Hold it here,” he brings your hand up to his neck.

“Yeah, like that,” his eyes roll back, feeling the metal digging into his skin.

He can’t lean into your kiss anymore, his body frozen in place save for the relentless movements of his hips, rubbing his clothed erection over you again and again.

So you keep the knife on his throat, unzipping his pants and yanking down his underwear, earning a strained sigh.

Then, pushing your skimpy panties aside, you take his length and pull him up between your parted legs.

“Nnhh– fuck–” he groans, watching you stimulate your clit with his fat tip.

“Need that pussy–” he starts bucking his hips, cautiously eyeing the cool silver in your hand.

You love how he’s getting so needy. Such a powerful man, his body full of tense and bulging muscles, now seeking the fleeting pleasure of his cock slipping over your heat.

You’d love nothing more than to get him nestled deep in your tight hole. You can tell, now you can feel his girth in your hand, that he’s going to get you cumming in no time.

But what’s the harm in a little teasing?

“Can’t you wait a bit longer, Kento?”

You watch his eyelids flutter, emitting another deep groan as he manages to sink his tip into your entrance.

You tut, pulling him away and up to your clit again, where you start to rub slow, sensual circles.

His cock smears your juice so deliciously, getting you all worked up until your hips jolt with your first orgasm.

Your hand flies away from his neck, slamming the knife on the dresser as the other grips at his fat cock.

“Nnggh— Kento!” you scream his name, your slick running down your thighs and coating the wood below.

With his throat free, he takes this opportunity to seize the knife and flick it against you, slamming you down on the table with a growl.

“I said, I need that fucking pussy,” he repeats, taking the razor to your neck.

Your hands claw and grip at the wooden dresser, your breathing getting restless while your heart hammers in your chest.

He’s got you on the edge, ready to beg for your life, until you hear the distinct sound of stitches coming undone.

“Oh,” your eyes flit down, “oh no, n-not my dress, please, s-sir–”

You look up at him now, feeling the undeniable ache of your pussy as he starts tugging the knife through your collar.

“Don’t–” you plead, while you can only feel yourself getting wetter, almost throbbing from the tension.

You want him to rip it. You want him to ravage you. You need him.

“I’m going to cut this open. And I’m going to fuck you like the nasty girl you are. And you’re going to enjoy it, ok sweetheart?”

He’s got your lips quivering, feeling the pointy blade on your skin. He could easily tear through you right now. He could slit you open.

You know that’s what the twisted curse in your blade wants.

Watching your pupils go wide, he jerks the knife down, slicing the dress clean from your skin, leaving you bare and ready for him.

“Was just helping you out– ‘n you get all greedy like that– fuck, gotta teach you a lesson, little girl,” he mutters, stabbing the knife into the dresser.

He flips you over, ripping away the shredded material and pressing your tits into the wood, pulling your ass up and panties off.

“K-Kento– s-sorry–” your whimpers do nothing to appease the man, feeling him press your wrists to your lower back.

The next sensation you get is a fiery slap of leather across your ass.

He grips his belt, spanking harder as you start to wriggle and clench your legs together with need.

“Think you can get away– with using my cock like that?” he seethes, your spine arching from every mean spank.

“Mm– I’ll show a nasty girl like you–” he thumbs your pussy now, spreading your hole, “what this cock can do.”

He glides in, deep and hard, earning a series of choked moans and apologies from your lips when you feel how ruthless he’s getting.

He all but rams you, shaking the dresser and all its contents, making the legs tremble beneath the weight of his thrusts.

“Oh god, K-Kento, ah– sir–”

“You like being bent over like this?”

He keeps rutting you into the wood.

“Bet none of your other customers do this for you…”

“Do they?” He presses.

“No,” you shake your head, “they don’t, Kento, s-sir–”

He’s lost to his desires now, and there’s no turning back till your body is aching and swelling full of his seed.

Now this first unusual encounter has come to pass, your regular customer getting more than he bargains for each time he enters your shop, you’re barely surprised by the second.

He’s your dedicated weekend customer. He arrives any time. Even in the dead of night, sometimes with the faintest spatter of blood on the pristine white of his shirt.

He finds your seemingly innocent charm so alluring, appreciating how you refrain from commenting on his appearance, and that your door is always open for him.

He starts opening up to you– not just the fun stuff, about his students and colleagues, the drama, the discourse– but the more troublesome details of his life. How he’s struggling with the higher ups at work, how they’re suffocating and ruining all of his plans– for what? Because he’s too strong and they can’t handle him?

“Why don’t you just… kill them?”

“I’ve contemplated it many times,” his voice turns serious again, “trust me.”

He explains that there would be massive ramifications if a single hair on their wrinkly bodies were touched by him. They’d try to seal or imprison him, banishing him from jujutsu sorcery for eternity.

“I’ll do it.”

You suggest it so openly, as if you’re offering a simple shave.

Satoru has always admired the way you hold those razors with such balance and poise– as if you’re wielding a weapon, rather than a tool. It’s in your blood, after all.

“You would do that, for me?” His eyes light up, leaning on the counter as he hands over his fee, plus a hefty tip.

You nod, a pretty smile emerging on your features as you take his money.

You slot it into the ancient register and find your hands clasped by his; long fingers and massive palms.

“Whatever can I do…” he pulls you closer, eyes trailing to your lips, “to repay you?”

The taste of death, your blade claiming a soul, is enough payment to quiet the restless energy surging through you.

But you know what he’s asking. And who are you to pass up an offer so kind from someone such as himself?

An angel. A god. With you, your body corrupted by a spirit darker than the bags under your eyes.

If only you knew… the darkness within your sweet customer could swallow yours in its entirety.

If only you knew the things he has done. The death toll hanging over his head could quiet the spirits in your walls for the rest of your miserable life.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you feel the metal slipping through your fingers.

He turns on you, taking the blade in his hand.

He feels it. You know he can feel the spirit residing in the cold silver.

“If you slip up, it’ll be my head.”

He slides it over your throat, pausing dangerously close to your jugular where he taps and plays with the vein.

He pulls it away with a pleased giggle, bringing it to his own lips.

His mouth parts, shimmering blue irises focused on your wide eyes, and licks a long stripe up the metal, making you shudder.

He gives you a mad smile, clearly getting a rush off how close he is to slitting his tongue.

Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t care, only succumbing to his own reckless whimsies.

He sets the knife back in your palm, securing plans to lure your next victims to the barber shop and slice them up one by one. He looks pained to tell you he can’t stop by to watch the bloody murder, but promises to help clean up afterwards.

⋆₊

The look of relief and… wonder on his face is almost worth all the killing in itself.

He steps around the basement, checking off all the bodies with a giddy smile.

He’s finally free. There’s nothing holding him back now.

And it’s all thanks to you.

“You did… so good.” He turns to you now, with that crazed look in his eyes as he takes your hands, the dingy room flashing and blurring away in an instant.

You open your eyes to find yourself in a neat apartment, where he coerces you into his bed with his lips, getting you stripped to your underwear and tied up in seconds.

But he’s just messing around; playing. You’re but a little mouse, caught in his trap.

“Now they’re gone,” he pulls away, “I have some business to attend to.”

That serious tone emerges again, while he covers his bright eyes with a pair of black glasses.

“Wait here.”

As if you have a choice. You watch him flash away, letting out a defeated moan as you sink into the mattress. Your body starts to feel tired, suddenly realising how late it is, eyelids slowly dropping as you succumb to a restless sleep.

⋆₊

You’re awoken by a warm sensation in your gut, eyes fluttering open as you gradually gain awareness. Then you find your voice.

“Oh– Mr. Gojo, sir, w-what are you– ah–”

Your senses come back to you, ears trained on the suckling noises of his mouth, your eyes darting about, finding your ripped underwear on his bed, then trailing down to see his head of messy white locks between your legs.

“Oh, god–! W-wait, I’m, I’m–”

How did he get me so wet already? How long has he been doing this?

He lets out a deep hum of satisfaction, brilliant eyes flicking up to yours; wide and panicking. And he grins, tonguing you through a long, sickly sweet orgasm.

You shudder, eyes losing focus, getting bleary from the pleasure.

You start to come down, breathing heavy, when you notice the light of morning seeping through the blinds.

“Mr. Gojo, my customers!” You cry out, suddenly realising you’re not where you’re supposed to be.

“They can wait,” he utters, pressing kisses to your thighs.

“I’m not done thanking you yet.”

He’s just so pleased with your work. He can’t let you go now.

So he slips a hand into his pocket, retrieving something familiar.

You watch the cold light dance over the silver, until you realise he has stolen your prized razor.

“N-no you can’t– give it back!” You’re surprised by the aggression in your voice, hands forming fists and tugging at the bed frame.

He flicks it open, admiring the intricate pattern on the handle, watching the slightly curved blade gleam.

“It’s a pretty thing,” he murmurs, lost in thought.

He refocuses, leaning over you.

“Almost as pretty as its owner,” he eyes you down, trailing the knife over your body, his movements lazy and slow.

He slides it between the swell of your breasts, making you gasp and shiver as he toys with your nipples using the blunt edge.

He continues down, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake, over your stomach, your hips, finally reaching between your legs.

“Spread ‘em wider,” he commands, giving your leg a threatening tap.

“Mm- p-please– not there–” you whimper, biting your lip to stop the trembling, while your hips squirm.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, pressing the knife flat over your entrance.

Your body tenses, holding back a shiver from the cold, smooth contact.

“Hm,” his grin grows wider, now sliding the blunt edge to part your labia, finding your little bud.

Resting his head on your thigh, he starts to tease your clit with the metal. He makes a little disappointed pout, spreading soothing circles with his free hand as your eyes well up with tears.

“Hey,” he coos, pressing a few kisses over your plush skin, “let’s just have a little fun, ok?”

He sounds sweet, but not quite sweet enough to hide the menacing undertone in his voice.

He taps at your clit, tilting the blade, making your breath falter.

He nudges your raised bud so precisely, over and over, watching your expression turn softer as you ease into the undeniable pleasure.

You can’t believe you’re feeling so close from his tantalisingly threatening movements.

He builds you up, using the edge to flick and toy until you’re crying for him to stop.

If he gets you cumming on this blade there’s no telling what your body might do. If your hips move an inch he’s going to cut you.

Your lip trembles, voice quaking with each sob and plea.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you,” he can tell you’re going to spill any second.

“Just relax, pretty girl, let me finish,” his free hand presses down hard on your hip, stilling your shaking completely.

Your body freezes in suspension as he works you over, your orgasm sustained with every gentle tap of the cold metal.

“Yes,” he watches your eyes roll back, your body motionless as you receive the deadly pleasure.

“That’s it,” he brings you down, “so good.”

While you’re still dizzy, he takes the metal and presses it flat over your hole, smearing your juices.

“Hah– ahh– no, no, please– s’cold, s– too, too much–!!”

“Hm,” he slides it away, “I’ll decide what’s too much, sweetheart.”

He finally sits up, drawing himself away, admiring your slick coating the silver.

And he brings it to your lips.

“Open up.”

He taps your lower lip.

You try to edge away, helplessly. The headboard stops your movements.

You have nowhere to turn. Your wrists are bound and aching. If you don’t do this, it might get worse.

Your lips slowly part, and he urges you to lick the blade clean, tasting yourself and shuddering at the metallic tinge on your tongue.

“Oh, well done,” he praises you, watching you swallow.

Your eyes fall closed, hoping that he’s finished, a calm clarity washing over you as you realise you’ve remained unscathed.

He swipes your lip with his thumb then flashes away again, disappearing from his apartment.

You let out a quiet sob, feeling utterly hopeless.

⋆₊

Upon his return, the instant relief quickly fades to fear when he steps closer, your eyes finding the blood on his ruined uniform.

“Miss me?” His eyes flash and burn into yours while he approaches your weak form on his bed.

You beg him for a drink– you’re aware that you’ve been here for about two days now.

He slits the restraints with your knife and allows you to eat, drink and wash up, keeping his eyes on you, before pulling you back to the bed.

“Kneel.” He’s not in the mood for conversation today.

And he’s not feeling entirely patient either.

He watches you perch on his bed, nervous eyes hovering over the deep, red stains.

“Look at me.”

He stands before you, flicking the blade out, lifting your chin up, a conflicting feeling of terror and lust surging through your body.

“W-where have you been?” You dare to ask.

He glares before opening his mouth again.

“Setting everything straight. Everything’s better now.” His eyes remain unblinking as he continues, “Now I need one more favour.”

He has you stripping his bathrobe off your beautiful body, leaving you exposed for him once again.

“Touch yourself.”

His commands are quiet, deep whispers that make you shiver and comply without hesitation.

Especially since there’s a knife pressed under your chin.

You trail a hand down your body, only reaching your chest before he speaks again.

“Stop.”

He eyes your gorgeous tits, making you realise what he wants you to do.

You obey, squeezing sensually at your breasts while he watches.

You reach for a nipple, gently taking it between your finger and thumb, feeling the heat building up.

“Harder.”

He encourages you with a tilt of the knife.

You bite back a whimper, now pinching at the stiffened nipple, watching a smile emerge on his lips.

“Good girl,” he can’t help but place his free hand on your face, his thumb swiping gently at your satin smooth cheek.

“Now lower.”

“Mm” you whine a little sound of agreement, your hand reaching down between your legs.

From the way you’re kneeling, your entrance is parted nicely and ready for your fingers. So you slide up and down, slowly, steadily, collecting your sweet juice over your already puffy clit.

He watches you sink into the rhythm, working yourself up, and starts noticing a throb in his own crotch.

“Open.”

He leaves you without a choice, your lips parted by the cold metal in his hand.

You continue your movements, arousal pooling and spilling now you see him reaching into his pants.

“You want this?”

He looks dizzy, almost drunk, when he slips his cock out, keeping the knife under your chin.

Your eyes dart down, finding his flushed and hard member, focusing on his tip where a clear drop of precum oozes. You nearly start drooling, following the languid movements of his fist.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.”

He watches in a trance as you look up, mouth hanging wider, tongue pushing forward as if to invite him in.

“Hm,” he chuckles and lets his cock hang and bounce in front of your face, tantalisingly close, “come and get it.”

You whine, eyebrows screwing up, “Nhgg– closer, please!”

You can’t reach him. You can’t move your damn head!

So you stick out your tongue, managing to swipe his tip.

He inches closer and moves the knife to your nape, enjoying the teasing pleasure, until he feels your lips finally wrap around him.

“Ugh, yeah–” he lets out a relieved groan, sinking himself in.

Your fingers continue toying with your clit between your parted legs, your free hand resting on his hip. He urges you to take him deeper, starting to moan and thrust when he nudges the back of your throat.

“You close?”

You nod, looking up at him with an expression so cute he just wants to smear your face with his cum.

But he resists, fucking your mouth slow and deep until he slips you off and pushes you around to face away from him.

“Cum on my cock.”

He remains standing behind you and sinks himself into your tight hole, making you do just that.

“You like that?”

You see the knife get tossed to the side of the bed now, one of his massive hands fisting your hair while the other grips at your hip, slamming you back on him with force.

Your head is pulled back now, your body in a deep arch, letting out little whimpers in reply.

“Talk to me,” he tugs your hair, “tell me how much you love my cock.”

“Mr. Gojo, sir, I, I...”

“Can’t fucking hear you, princess”

“I, I love it– oh my god– it, it’s so–”

He jolts your neck. He’s heard that line a thousand times before.

“I know it’s big, tell me how you feel,” he orders, his deeper tone making you squeeze and clench.

“Ah– I, I, feel like– ‘m, ‘m gonna cum again–” you sob and moan, arching yourself and humping stupidly into his hard thrusts.

“More.”

“S-s’too much, s-sirrr, uuhh– f-feel too hot– ah, and, and too full…” you sniffle, earning a sadistic laugh from the man, “n-need you to– to cum, plee-eeeasee!”

“Oh, angel, I’ll cum… don’t need to beg for it like that–” he still sounds perfectly cool, while his pumping says otherwise, getting so mean your pussy starts to ache, “can’t have a pretty little thing like you begging now, can we?”

“B-but, Mr. Gojo, I, I need it,” your body can’t lie, your lips are moving on their own, you’re so far gone you couldn’t care what he does to you now.

“Fuck,” he feels you grip at him again, making him lose his damn mind, his head rolling back from the pleasure around his cock.

“O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna get it– yesssyess, fffuck– princess!”

The sounds that leave his mouth make you tremble and shake, your pussy milking every last inch of his member till he’s dry and choking from overstimulation.

But he keeps going, massaging the fat of your ass as he grinds into you, feeling the throbbing and pulsing die down.

He pulls out slowly, still achingly hard, spreading your hole.

“Let me see,” you feel him sink to his knees behind you, your neck craning back to find him bent over.

He presses his lips to your entrance and sucks.

You squirm, trying to escape, but he grabs at your hips and shoves his tongue inside, tasting himself with a long groan.

He pulls away, repositioning you to his liking, your head shaking when his cock rears up to nudge at your leaking hole again.

“No, no, no–” your head shakes, but your hips buck to take him in.

“I told you, I need to thank you”

“It’s– s’already enough–”

He lets out a little laugh, then proceeds to fuck you dumb.

The kind of dumb that has your brain all muddled– to the point where it seems to disconnect from the rest of your body, which can only succumb to the feeling of his cock.

Your tongue is loose, your pussy tight, your mouth dry from screaming.

Then, and only then, does he let you rest.

He takes you in his arms when the morning comes, finally transporting you back to your dingy shop, where he places you in your apartment upstairs and takes his leave.

You slowly recover and reopen the shop, inviting in your regulars, along with a particularly intimidating man who seems to be interested in your other services.

You offer them to him freely, asking who his target is.

But he declines, “Oh no, I’ve already got it covered, doll.”

He eyes you up and down as you watch him lean back on the same chair that was dripping with blood only days ago.

“And what’s a pretty girl like you doing, offering a service like that?”

He snorts and watches you squirm, saying that your secret is safe, as long as you don’t start overreaching and stepping on his toes.

He doesn’t need another prolific killer on his turf. But you assure him that you’re not interested in bounties– you were only helping your customers.

“Sure,” he utters as you finish up your work, applying his aftershave of choice, watching him stand and admire himself with a grin.

“I’ll pay ya next time, ok?” He drawls and turns to face you.

He towers over you, reaching a hand up to your head, making you recoil.

But he only pats you gently and turns to take his leave.

“Hey!” you call after him, but the bell on your door chimes– he’s already gone.

You clench the blade in your hand, muttering to yourself. He better come back. You roll your eyes and get back to work, the familiar vengeful thoughts entering your mind once more, wondering if they will ever be quieted.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

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sebsxphia · 1 year ago

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Preacher!rhett using his hunting knife to cut off your panties and cut the buttons off of your dress before he goes down on you 😵‍💫

ptolemaea. | r.a.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you and your sinful preacher outline your future together in the back of his pick up truck.

￫ word count: 3.5K.

￫ c/w: knife kink, blood kink, blood, use of knives, multiple mentions of knives, blood and using knives on you, marking you, heavy and dark religious themes, rough sex, f!oral receiving, rhett eating you out, crotch grinding, daddy kink, swearing, kissing, titty touching and pinching, aftercare, patching up wounds and preacher!rhett abbott. what you read in the ask is what it’s gonna be.

￫ a/n: a new chapter to work into the series is here! i wanted to add this to the next chapter, but i understand this is a heavy/dark topic, so i had it be a stand alone chapter. a huge thank you to @sunblchdfly for brainstorming this with me and keeping me going with writing this! <3 this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

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It was exhilarating.

You had recently become more adventurous and allowed Rhett to chase you through the back of the Motel woods and fuck you against the dirty forest floor, but the experience of feeling his hunting knife draw along your skin was something far more vulnerable. It needed to be done in the safety and confines of something familiar. A Motel room wasn’t that for you, but the back of Rhett’s truck pulled off in a deserted location, was. You had spent many nights in the back of his truck and it was the closest thing to a home you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

The soft blankets cushioning your trembling frame underneath you were a harsh comparison to the razor-thin blade currently pressing on your tender flesh and drawing down. He had you caged in entirely, with one of his broad forearms resting beside your face and his large body nearly covering yours. He left enough room between the two of you so he could nimbly move his hunting knife down the valley of your breasts. Goosebumps rose in its Devilish wake, and from the low light of Rhett’s camping torch, you could see his wicked grin drawing across his lips.

He let the point of his knife flick upwards on the softest part of your left breast. It caused a small cut to appear, no more than a centimetre in length. One of your hands shot up to grab at Rhett’s forearm at the sudden pin prick. It startled your senses and your chest heaved. You gasped loudly, but when you cried out his name it turned into a moan.

“Rhett!”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head. “Cry all you want, sweet lamb. No one can hear you, ‘nd you’re enjoyin’ this, I know y’ are.”

You whined in defeat and let your thighs fall together and rub aimlessly. His gaze zoned in on the small trickle of your ceremonial blood coming out of the gash. He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue. You swore you could’ve seen drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. It was as if he was starving for his first blood, but the camping light was too low to allow you to notice.

“Tell me, where d’ y’ wan’ me to go?” Rhett’s low voice cut through the night. He pressed his hunting knife back to the soft plush of your breasts and trailed it lower until he was pressing against the inseam of your dress. You chewed at the inside of your cheek and swallowed thickly. Your request was on the tip of the tongue, but asking for it required your Preacher’s gentle coaxing.

“Go on.” His voice was softer and barely above a whisper.

“D— down, there.”

“Down, where? Use your words or I’ll cause a lot more damage, believe me.”

His tone switched back to nearing frightening at the snap of a finger. A frightful whimper left your lips as your mind caught up to the position you currently found yourself in. Your heart was pounding so hard against your rib cage you thought Rhett could hear it.

“Your c— cunt. I want to feel it.”

“Atta, girl.” Rhett cooed. He was quick to swivel the blade of his hunting knife along your dress and catch under the buttons that ran down. With pinpoint accuracy, he cut the thread of the first four buttons. You yelped with a loud cry when he freed them in quick succession. Your bare breasts became exposed to the cool night air. He let the knife fall to the truck with a clang and he snarled. He bared his teeth to you as his large hands fisted at the rest of your buttons and ripped them apart with his bare hands.

His fiery touch was on your breasts in an instant. He groped and gripped at the tender flesh and palmed it along his calloused palm.

His nimble fingertips turned inwards and pinched at both of your nipples, continually tweaking them and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The harsh tugs caused you to cry out a cracked moan. His lips crashed against yours with your teeth meeting too. As he rutted his clothed crotch against yours, he swallowed your needy moans down when his tongue swiped along the inside of your mouth. He parted to let his teeth tug harshly at your bottom lip, so hard he could draw more blood from you tonight. It caused you to cry again into his mouth.

He grunted against your lips when he parted completely, “Mine, mine, mine. All fuckin’, mine.”

You were completely naked to the night sky. All that kept you hidden was your underwear resting on your hips. Your Preacher saw your vulnerability at this moment and wanted to mark you as his. Not something that would fade over time such as a hickie, no. Something that would be drawn into your flesh until the end of your time.

As he pulled apart from you, he snickered at the sight of your hooded eyes with your pupils overcome with desire. Your lips were already plush and starting to swell from the graze of his own, plus three-day-old stubble. You came to cradle his face with your hands with pitiful whines escaping your mouth.

“Shh, shh, sweet lamb.” You hummed in peace and let your Preacher’s words carry you, squirming your hips upwards to meet his. “It’s alright. I’ve got you, I ain’t leavin’ you. If y’ let me, I’ll bind you to me forever. Will y’ let me?”

You frowned momentarily, but when you saw Rhett reach for his hunting knife off the floor of his truck, you let out a silent, “Oh.”

“Do y’ trust me?” Rhett asked again.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He bent down once more to place a heated kiss on your lips, letting his free hand cradle your jaw gently and run his thumb over your cheek. It was a gesture from Rhett that you found the most comforting.

He drew himself upwards and sat back to straddle your thighs. His thighs were wrapped tightly around yours to keep you firmly in place. It allowed you no room to struggle against him. The pinpoint touch of his knife found its place back atop the valley of your breasts. In sequenced movements, he trailed it over the soft mounds of your breasts and teased around the tender flesh of your nipples. Your breath hitched and caught tightly in your throat as he prodded there. You knew one slight movement and you’d lose them.

You locked eyes with Rhett and a groan left his throat. Your eyes were wide with panic and pleading desperately with him not to hurt you so bad, but they were blown near black with desire. The sight caused his jeans to strain impossibly tighter around his cock. He let out a sinister chuckle and let his blade move away from your sensitive nipples that were perked stiffly.

He drew it over your ribs and then to your stomach, where he allowed the blade to push a little harder. Rhett knew your flesh wasn’t so sensitive here and the blade cut a seam roughly four centimetres in length, just under your left rib. His thumb smeared the blood across your skin and he let the tip of his thumb press a little deeper into the incision. A snarl twitched onto Rhett’s face again. The blade was far enough from your body to allow your hips to buck slightly and another shaky moan left your lips.

“Rhett! Please, God… I—”

“God isn’t here.”

He bit back in a beat and his Heavenly smirk dropped in a flash. His face was cold. His thumb from your incision was placed between his lips and he sucked down on the sweet taste of your blood. He snarled again, and when he bared his teeth you saw the reflection of your blood staining across his teeth.

“I— What?!”

The tip of his knife found a spongy spot of flesh around your hip bone and he dug in. Another cry tore from your throat and your eyes squeezed shut at the stinging sensation that was currently being drawn through your skin.

Rhett’s free hand moved to cup your clothed cunt. “Shh, shh. I’m here, it’s okay, sweet lamb. I’m here.”

When you opened your eyes again, your desperate eyes fell to Rhett’s and you gasped out a shaky sigh of relief to see the familiar face of your Preacher. His eyes were focused intently on where his blade was travelling and he wore a malicious yet smug grin as he provided you such indescribable pleasure. A tight knot mixed with pain and pleasure was curling in the lower half of your stomach, and the illusion of safety was placed back around you like a blanket.

“God loves you, but not enough to save you. ‘m here for that, little lamb. I will save you.” He punctuated every syllable. He was careful to let the blade not fall deep enough to cause permanent harm, just enough to etch his mark onto your skin. He needed to preserve you.

As he drew the remaining lines across your hip bone, the heel of his palm that was pressed against your underwear pressed down onto your clit causing a jolt of pleasure through you and a wanton moan to escape your throat. It was intoxicating, how he could deliver such pain but still manage to coat it in the shiny slick of your arousal that was currently forming between your thighs.

He sat back and let the blade fall to the floor of the truck again. He wore a wicked smile with faint traces of yourself still covering his teeth. “Look at you. Such a pretty sight for your Preacher. Marked as mine forever.” His darkened eyes were fixated on your hips. You sat up on your elbows to take a look and you shakily let out a gasp.

The letters, R.A. were carved intricately onto your skin. Trickles of red were falling from your hip and another press from Rhett’s heel of his palm had you softly whining. The claim of Rhett’s name tattooed into your flesh had your eyelids feeling heavy and your cheeks warm. Your stomach was churning with waves of need, needing to feel your Preacher kiss away the pain and draw you to orgasm to snap that knot that was curling in your stomach.

“Need you.” You panted, and he obliged within the blink of an eye. He dropped down your frame and situated himself between your thighs, taking his hunting knife with him for one last time. He let the dull and cool side of the blade press against your pubic bone, as he slit the razor edge upwards to cut off your underwear in one swift and fluid motion. A low chuckle was heard followed by the click of his tongue.

“Little lamb,” Rhett taunted. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. My pretty cum is stuck to y’ underwear. This get y’ goin’ so bad, hm?” He lazily swiped his finger through your folds and pressed the calloused pad of his finger on your clit. You let out a feeble whine and your hips bucked upwards to chase his touch.

“Y— yes, fuck! Yes, Daddy.” You choked out.

“Y’ like the idea of Daddy cuttin’ his name onto you like that? Markin’ y’ as mine?”

You whimpered and shook your head vigorously to agree.

“Oh, sweet thing. How far you’ve strayed.”

Your cunt was glistening with your arousal and the shining of your lips. Rhett had already tasted the sins of the flesh, but he was hungry for something sweeter. His lips attached your clit instantly and sucked harshly. A loud cry was all that could be heard from you. It muffled out the sloppy sounds of his tongue lapping through your folds and sucking heinously on your swollen and untouched bundle of nerves. Your cries were called out into the velvet night, but they were lost in the sea of stars. There was no one around for miles to hear you, and even though your body was completely exposed to the night, you felt no shame as your Preacher ate away at his pussy like it was the last supper he was to feast on.

Your hands had shot out to grip his strands of hair and tug harshly. His face was completely pressed up against your pussy, but you craved him deeper. You wanted him to cut open your stomach and crawl under your skin, to allow you pleasure for the rest of your life. For Rhett to live on inside you forever was all you could think of right now, in this very moment as his tongue prodded and licked at your engorged clit. His own large hands came to grip onto your hips and this thumb pressed gently into the markings on your hip bone.

Although he was drunkenly feasting on your cunt, he prodded carefully at your incision. When he drew his tongue up your folds and caught it on your clit, he would press the pad of his thumb down to elicit a burst of pain and pleasure. Each time it caused you to moan wantonly and press your thighs around his shoulders tighter. It was a merciless assault on your clit with each stroke from his wet muscle pushing you closer to teetering off that all-familiar edge. All that could be heard from Rhett was his muffled grunts and groans, occasionally deep breaths from his nostrils as he inhaled your scent that was seeping through your lips. The low lighting from his camping light caused you not to see how he was grinding his hips down onto the truck bed. His cock was straining hard against his jeans and he craved the rough and tightly constructed friction. Experiencing the same painful pleasure as yourself and knowing it was him doing this to you, had him intertwined with your body. It was enough to push him to the same edge as yourself.

Another moan got caught in your throat but was torn out without hesitation as Rhett’s tongue pressed and then drew repeated circles around your sensitive clit. He repeated this motion and you felt the knot pulling tightly together and ready to snap. He could tell you were close. The way your chest was heaving, in a weak attempt to catch your breath, how your thighs were trembling furiously by his face and how your fingertips clawed tightly at his hair.

“‘m… ‘m, gon— fuck, fuck, fuck! Rhett!”

You choked back a sob and heaved as the wave of pleasure tore through your abdomen and sparked through your body, touching every end nerve you had. Your bare body was twitching with your hips thrashing against Rhett’s scratchy stubble, craving more friction.

Tearful sobs of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” were relentless as Rhett held onto your hips firmly to keep his tongue pressed to your clit. It allowed for your arousal to flow heavily onto his tongue. Guttural groans were muffled against you as he tasted everything you had to give him. He continued his assault on your now ever-sensitive clit, but gently eased up on his strokes as the sparks of pleasure drowned out and washed over your body in a blissful glow.

You were dizzy. Your eyes glazed over and your speech slurred.

“Rhett…” You whined and reached out your trembling hands to cradle his face as he came up from your soaked thighs. His chin shone with the reflection of your cum and the faintest pink stain of your blood still on his teeth. He pressed his hot cheek into your palm and nuzzled against your tender hand, his own hands holding gently onto your forearms. “Do y’ want me to…”

He let out a snicker. “No need, sweet lamb.”

You frowned and squinted down at his jeans to see the very obvious stain blossoming through the material. You laughed faintly, your grin lopsided and pleasure drunk.

“C’ere, I need to care for my precious little lamb.” He leaned back down and scooped his broad forearm under your back to sit you up. His other hand came underneath your thighs to lift you and hoist you to his frame. He shuffled down to the end of the truck and carried you around to sit you down gently in the passenger seat. Before you told Rhett you wanted to experience something as exhilarating as this, you had agreed to pack spare clothes and all the medical supplies you would require.

You whined when he left your side momentarily, but he was back in a second with the supplies. He dressed you in his old Christian Youth Camp t-shirt, covered by his plaid shirt. He carefully slipped a pair of his boxers over your naked lower half, but then peeled down the edges to look at your hip.

He stood in the door of the passenger seat and cracked open the medical supplies that were required. With the faintest and most careful of touches, he gently patted at his initials and other markings with a cotton pad. Your face winced and you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, little groans left your dry throat.

Rhett let out a gentle, “Shh, shh,” and he cooed at you again with his fingers cutting through the hair on your forehead to soothe you.

“I know, darlin’, I know, it stings. But I need to take good care of you. We must preserve this. But y’ took me s’ well. You look s’ pretty for me. S’ proud of you, I love you.”

He pressed kiss after kiss to your temple as he patched you up and left the bandages where they needed to be. He cradled your warm cheek in his hand as he tipped the water bottle upwards so you could drink from it. It was cooling down your throat that had been scratched from loud and pleasurable moans.

“Good girl, good girl.” Rhett praised you again and you let out a little whimper, keening into his touch. You swallowed down the water and he wiped away the remaining droplets with his thumb.

“Will y’ always take such good care of me, Rhett?”

You blinked at him with an innocent gaze. For in your clouded eyes, Rhett marking you with his initials meant that he was bound to you forever now. With the spilling of your blood, through life and death, He would be there to take care of you. You had travelled nearly across America, and the sight of your blood bared on Rhett’s teeth was the final nail into your palm to bound you to him.

“Y’ a Daughter of Abbott, yes?” His hands squeezed at your arms and he held your gaze intensely.

“Yes.” You breathed out, barely above a whisper. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs momentarily as his cobalt eyes bore into yours without wavering. He had you nailed to him.

“I will make ‘em eat the flesh of their sons ‘nd daughters, ‘nd they will eat one another’s flesh because their enemies will press the siege s’ hard against ‘em to destroy them.”

He quoted the verse from Jeremiah that you were familiar with. You had heard Rhett mutter it to himself repeatedly within the quiet confines of the Church walls, all that time ago. Your eyes went wide with understanding and your lips fell into an, ‘o’ shape and then a lovesick smile.

“I will protect you from the siege, sweet lamb. By carving my name and consuming your blood. No one can destroy us.”

taglist: @beachbabey @peachystenbrough @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989

tagging those who may be interested: @becks-things @sugarcoated-lame @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @bradshawsbitch

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