#....should i make it gunplay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coryosbaby · 8 months

Text

Down & Dirty

Fandom: “Outer Banks”

Pairing: mean! Rafe Cameron x fem! Pogue! Bimbo! Reader

Cw: dark themes— dubcon, angst, manipulation, nsfw . Gunplay, dumbification, mud scene, codependency, subspace, anal, breeding, daddy kink, extreme domination, size kink, predator/prey dynamics

A/N: bro I was fuckin FERAL writing this .

Fear courses through you as Rafe Cameron’s hand covers your mouth and he drags you away towards his truck. You knew it was a bad idea to come here by yourself, but you went against your better judgement.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” He calmly but scarily murmurs as you struggle. His bottom lip peeks out and his eyes are almost vacant.

You’ve always known that Rafe is somewhat of a bad person, given the torment he had always given you being Sarah’s best friend— but now, with his grip tight and mean, gun barrel pointing at your skull, you know now that something has shifted inside him — something dark and unforgiving. The hands that had once been soft on your skin, the eyes and body that had comforted you once or twice, regardless of Rafe’s violent tendencies with your pogue friends, we’re now aiming to end your life .

“Rafe, please…” You plead with him, as he yanks you by your hair.

“Rafe, please,” he mocks. “Jesus, you’re fucking pathetic. You’re lucky that I haven’t put a bullet in that pretty fucking skull yet.”

Tears well in your eyes and you kick him in his groin. It makes him groan, and he drops his grip from you. You run away from him, at a certain point having to stop and take your favorite pair of heels off. You were incredibly stupid to wear them here.

Rafe catches up to you quick. He tackles you, and with a loud sloshing sound you both land in the mud on the ground. He wrestles you down until his hands are around your neck. You gasp, trying to run away again, trying to get away from this guy you had once recognized as a form of comfort for you, but to no avail.

“You fucking bitch.” The gun has been lost somewhere beside the both of you, but that doesn’t make the boy any less threatening. “I never wanted to hurt you! You did this to your self- stop fucking squirming!”

You sob as his hands loosen a bit on you. He looks down at your supple chest, your bra now peeking out of your tank top from all of the movement.

“Even now you’re dressed like a fucking slut,” he growls. Your brows furrow. You’ve been avoiding eye contact with him, but now you meet his once again. He looks like a predator about to catch its prey.

He looks angelic, almost… a fallen angel. You breathe out, and with enough strength to pull forward, you kiss him.

You don’t know why you do it— sex is the thing that most men want from you, so maybe that’s why. As a way to plead for your life.

His tongue finds its way into your mouth for a moment, his teeth clacking against yours, but as if pulled out of a trance he rips himself away from you. Mud cakes his face and arms as he gets up to his feet.

You let out a tiny whine as he looks down at you, from frustration or fear you don’t know. Probably both. You flimsily move up on your knees, doe eyes looking up at him with a begging expression.

Rafe’s eyes dart to the other side of you, and he catches sight of the loaded gun laying in a heap on the ground. He grabs it and shoves the barrel against your skull. With one hand he wraps it around your neck and pulls you closer to him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He says with a disgusted tone.

You don’t say anything, just let out a little whimper. He catches sight of your tank top again— and a small smirk glazes his features.

He grabs the strings of it and rips the flimsy thing right down the middle. When it settles in what’s about to happen, a wet spot forms in your panties.

You might die right now, covered in mud and grass, but you’re fucking horny.

“I should kill you right now,” he whispers heavily against your ear. “But that’s not what you want, is it? You want me to fuck you, right here on the dirty fucking ground. Don’t you?”

You nod your head, desperate. For what, you don’t know.

He smiles, demented. And he moves the gun down to your mouth. “Just a dirty little pogue that wants to get filled with dick, right?”

“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumble. Your tongue lolls out to lick at the gun barrel. “I wan’ it..”

And that’s all the confirmation Rafe needs. He places the gun in the back of his waistband and begins to undo his belt.

“Of course you do,” he rambles. “That’s all you’ve ever fuckin’ wanted was to get dicked down by me. I always saw the way you looked at me, y’know.”

You move closer to him when he pulls his lengthy cock out of his pants. It’s heavy, thick and long, circumcised, with precum coating the tip. A vein runs down one side of it, almost throbbing.

You reach out and lick the tip of him. He tastes absolutely divine.

“‘S so pretty..” you whisper. You drag your face along it, just to feel the warm skin and lick it all up.

Rafe, bored, grabs your face and positions his cock in front of your mouth.

“Open that fucking mouth as wide as it can go.”

You obey, mouth opening to take him; he shoves his cock in as deep as it can go. He reached behind him to his waistband and the gun is back in one of his hands again. He shoves it against your head for a third time. He groans when you gag around his fat prick, and your body naturally moves forward in between his legs. Rafe takes notice and is quick to wrap his thighs around each side of your head, making sure to squeeze. It’s too much pressure on your head, and you try to move away. But Rafe slaps both sides of your blushing face and thrusts so hard that you gag.

“Don’t fucking move. You move, I’ll fuckin’ shoot you. Do you understand me?”

You can’t nod, but you cry out around him. He holds the top of your hair with his fingers and keeps you down until you can’t breathe.

But seriously, you can’t breathe— your vision goes blurry and you’re almost close to passing out. You’re too dazed to care, But thankfully Rafe doesn’t want to kill you just yet. He forces your head away. You gasp, choking and sputtering, trying to get more oxygen back into your now sore throat. He’s back on you in an instant, though, and he’s leaking so much precum and you’re drooling so much that it’s dripping out of the sides of your mouth. His balls slap against your chin; your nose presses into his pubic hair, and he smells so delicious that you almost start rutting into the filthy ground.

He pulls you off of him when he’s about to cum. You get thrown to the ground, your head hitting the soft mud and caking your face. Rafe discards the gun again, gets down on his knees behind you, and rips your skirt and underwear down your legs vigorously. Your puffy cunt is revealed to him. He tsks, running a finger through your folds.

“So wet. And shit—“ he pulls your cheeks apart, exposing your juicy pussy and tight asshole to the warm air. You clench around nothing as he spits down in between your ass cheeks. “All your little holes are so tiny. Fuck, this is gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Please..” you whimper, pushing your body back against him on your hands and knees. “Need daddy’s big cock. Need it ‘s bad.”

The fact that you’re talking in third person like this should be a bit concerning. Your mind is so far gone. But Rafe doesn’t care about that— all he cares about is ripping your sloppy cunt open.

“I know you do.” He states. His tongue goes down to your asshole. He runs it along that place there, and down to the place in between your ass and pussy. His thumb moves around and lightly massages your clit. It’s the first kind of stimulation he’s given you and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He mutters. “Maybank ever do this to you?”

He’s referring to JJ; he has, although you don’t want to admit that to him. Rafe isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked, the first guy to finger your pussy. But he’s by far the best.

“S-Sometimes..”

It comes out low, and his fingers stop.

“Yeah? You slut yourself out to all those dirty pogues?”

When you don’t answer, his hand comes down on the fat of your ass. You sob.

“No! N-No, just JJ, I swear!”

He reaches around and slaps your pussy. It hurts, and Rafe thinks that you let out a sound like a pained little bunny. The nickname makes so much sense to him, and he’s angry as he lines himself up to your puffy entrance.

“You’re never gonna see him again.” He states. His tip sinks into you. The stretch stings, fucking hurts so bad. You’ve sucked cock but you’ve never had one inside your cunt. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You dumb fucking bunny.”

And he pushes himself in, in, in, and you’ve never felt so full, so dirty, so claimed. He pushes past that thin little wall inside you, pops your cherry with his cock’s mushroomed head. When it breaks through blood coats his length; he knows because he begins to move quick after that, sees the red coated on his dick. You’re so tight and sweet and fuck— Rafe doesn’t think he can kill you anymore. He needs to be inside you forever.

“Mine.” He growls. “All mine.”

You’re laying there, having no choice but to take it. The pain feels good. Rafe grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back as he begins to pound you right there in the dirt.

Little ah ah ahs leave you as his balls slap against your clit. He shoves one of his fingers into your mouth. You can taste the grittiness of dirt and under that, his natural taste— mixed with the taste of hand soap, almost. Probably the one that sits back in the Cameron household’s second bathroom, on the counter. Or maybe it’s the body wash that he so often washes himself with; you know this because you use it sometimes. You like the way the boy smells.

“Little pussy’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” He groans. “Best pussy daddy’s ever had baby, fuck.”

He’s almost a whimpering mess himself. He’s not gonna last long because of your cunt— and he intends to make the most of it.

He grabs you by your throat, has bent backwards against him as he presses a messy kiss to your mouth. It’s hungry, it’s crazy, the whole situation is. But you’re both at each other like fucking animals.

“Whose pussy is this?” He demands. You lick at his bottom lip, clench around him just right.

“Yours! ‘S all yours, daddy!”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He huffs, then he thumbs your asshole and watches as you suck him in. “Gonna fuck this tight little ass after this. Gonna take you home and take you right there on my fuckin’ staircase.”

You mewl, and you can tell that he’s close. You reach around to try and rub your own clit, but Rafe slaps your hand away. He turns you over on your back. You can see him a lot better this way, and he looks like a fucking God, pounding you so good like this. He pushes your legs over your head and slides back inside your gummy walls. He buries his face in your neck and his fingers move down to your clit. When he rubs you, it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on him with a scream. Your cunt tightening around him makes him let out a growl, and you beg him for his load.

“Please, Rafey,” you whine out. “Please cum inside me. I need your cum in my tight little pussy.. wanna be a mommy, wanna have your baby, please please please—“

He lets out an animalistic shout, and his cock squirts warm, white cream right against your cervix. He pounds you even more at the force of his orgasm. When he comes down, he slows and breathes in your scent. The sweet strawberry perfume you wear is right against his nostrils. He pulls out of you, slow. He spreads your pussy lips apart and watches his seed drip out of your gaping pussy.

“Good girl..” he coos, oddly sweet. “Daddy’s good little cocksleeve..”

Your mind is hazy, and even here in the woods you grab his hands and grab him to pull him closer to you. He pushes you away, however, and grumbles, “Don’t. Cmon, get up.”

You comply, on shaky legs. He picks up your tank top, slips it over your head. Your skirt is practically in shreds, so he just puts your panties back on. You’re too fucked out to even care that he’s dragging you to his truck, half naked, cum dripping down your legs. You don’t care.

The ride to the Cameron residence is quiet. Rafe threw the gun in the console when he got in. You fall asleep halfway there, and he turns the radio on softly.

He looks over at you. Caked in dirt, cheeks red, scratches all over your thighs. You must’ve got them from the twigs in the mud.

Something tugs at his chest. He blames it on the adrenaline.

The house is empty; Wheezie, Rafe had sent off to a friend’s. Sarah, running around with the pogues, probably trying to find you. Rose, god knows where. His dad, dead. He does what he said he would do. He sits himself down on the staircase, pulls out his cock, already hard from the way your thighs are wet. He positions you on top of him as you look down at him tiredly. You want to be good for him, though, and let him stretch your ass out on his fingers. Afterwards you move your panties to the side, grab his cock and slide it inside your heat. You bounce on him, mouth agape as you look into his eyes. There seems to be more emotion in them now. He’s calmed.

He digs his fingernails into your hips, and he grunts when your lips find his neck and you suck a bruise onto it. He spills inside you for a second time, and then he makes you go upstairs with him. He pulls you into his bathroom, the one connected to his room, that you’ve never been in. He takes off the both of your clothes and starts a warm shower. He pulls you inside of it, takes a rag and begins scrubbing the both of you down. You lean against him as he does so, leaving kisses against his now bare chest. His fingers come down to your pussy and make you cum again, an oddly selfless act preformed by the boy. A reward because you were good, maybe? He turns the water off when you’re both squeaky clean. You don’t let him out of your grasp until he gets out of the shower and you follow him. He grabs a towel and dries your used body off with it, and then grabs another and does the same for himself. He guides you to his bed, and you crawl into it.

Your mind is still a mess. You feel alight, like you’ve been touched by god himself. But Rafe’s distance from you when he sits beside you makes you frown. It saddens you so much even, that tears well in your eyes again. Rafe can see the tears coming down your face.

“Jesus, are you fucking crying right now?”

Silence, and then a small sniffle. He scoffs.

“Need me to fuckin’ coddle you, or somethin’?”

You don’t say anything, but you do want that— you don’t know why. He had just taken you in the literal fucking mud, like a disgusting fucking animal. But his warm embrace sounds like something that can ease the headache forming in your skull.

Rafe must sense this. Because he groans, and lays himself down in the spot beside you.

“Come here.” He demands, harshly. You turn over, surprised at his words, but comply regardless. You bring your arms up around his neck and nestle in the space between his arm and torso; it’s comfortable there, it’s warm and soft. You like it. Maybe you’re losing your fucking mind.

You feel the need to thank him for his generosity— you still haven’t gotten out of that space he had forcefully thrown you into— and you need him to be proud of you, almost.

“Rafe—” you say, voice a bit hoarse.

“Did I say you could talk?”

“No..” you murmur. “‘m sorry.”

“Better be.”

He pulls the comforter over the both of you. He remembers the gold, the entire reason why this had occurred in the first place. But it can wait. Exhaustion overtakes him. After a moment a small sigh emits from him and his thumbs rub soft circles against your shoulder.

And soft, almost like an angels wings, he kisses your head with plush lips.

#rafe cameron #bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem! reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x bimbo! reader #dark! rafe cameron x reader #mean! rafe cameron x reader #mean! rafe cameron #dark! rafe Cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx fanfic #drew starkey #Obx #outer banks #s2! rafe cameron

7K notes · View notes

fyorina · 1 month

Text

ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking.

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side.

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics.

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction.

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk.

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately.

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you.

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk.

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there.

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is.

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge.

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt.

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple.

He smiles.

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route.

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants.

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is.

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to.

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest.

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.”

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him.

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs.

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent.

God, he’s gorgeous.

You hate him.

You’ve missed him.

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can.

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs.

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips.

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.”

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago.

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective.

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?”

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions.

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him.

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace.

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time.

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying.

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch.

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs.

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did.

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work.

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk.

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek.

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes.

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything.

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t.

“I know,” he murmurs.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly.

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses.

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

1K notes · View notes

explicit-tae · 7 months

Text

Moral Dilemma

Your morality is tested at a monthly family dinner that gets interrupted by two masked men. @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111 @chimmy-licious

Word Count:7.317

Warning: yandere themes, dark themes, smut, coercion/dubcon/ violence, blood, multiple character deaths, stalking, slight gunplay, oral (f receiving), spitting, dirty talking, fingering, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, creampie,

Halloween Masterlist

The drive to your parents home was a long one - about an hour from your apartment in the city. It was a drive you dreaded taking. Not because of how far it was, but because you knew who you’d be seeing upon entering.

Your mother was someone you loved dearly, but was someone you’d rather keep at a distance. She was the type to constantly ask about your love life, wondering when you’d be married and have children. A career didn’t matter to her if there was a man wealthy enough to marry and settle down with. The amount of times she stated that you’re wasting your youth on working in a useless field and should look into marrying could be counted on both hands.

Your father was the boastful type - he bragged about any and everything he could. His cars, houses, business - it all. You couldn’t fault him, however. He claimed that he had to start from the bottom and work his way up, but even he was someone who looked down upon your choice to work instead of using your privileged last name.

With two parents came four children, you being the second youngest. Your elder brother was the first to follow in your fathers footsteps and take over one business. He was married and had no children yet much to your mothers dismay.

Your older sister was who you bumped heads with constantly - a carbon copy of the mother you shared. She hadn’t worked ever and had taken your mothers advice and married a close friend of the family - the age difference is a bit alarming, but you didn’t dwell on it often.

Your younger brother and final child was a breath of fresh air. He had not yet been corrupted by your parents' views thus far and was only a freshman in college. He opted to stay on campus unless he had to come home - like today. Only he and you were the most distant to the rest while remaining close to one another.

Your call pulls into the large estate and you release a deep sigh. You were the last to arrive, familiar cars in your line of vision. You pull next to your eldest brother's silver ferrari - a gift from your father when he graduated college. You contemplated slamming your door against his to chip the paint, but decided against it. You and your brother had no real issue - but you still held a grudge when he laughed at a joke your sister had said one day, completely embarrassing you in the process.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way up the stone stairs. You were greeted with a wide smile of one of many workers that night - the oldest worker your parents hired decades ago.

“Sofia.” you bow to the older woman who does the same. “WIll you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

Sofia shakes her head, her eyes shining with amusement. “I never do. I will be making my leave shortly.”

You giggle. “I could only hope you’d stay.” was your response.

Every monthly dinner your parents hosted always ended in a mess. Your sister and you bickering with one another, your mother having one too many glasses of wine while your father became enraged in a conversation about politics with your older brother.

The estate is quiet upon entering. You made sure to come around this time. Dinner would soon be done and all you had to do was have dinner, mingle a bit for your younger brother, and then leave.

You wished your boyfriend was here with you. It would make things easier for you. You could make an excuse to even leave earlier because he was with you - next time hopefully.

You remove your heels at the door and make your way down the hall to the dining area. Your nostrils are filled with the scent of dinner and your stomach churns. Your father was an amazing cook, much to outsiders' surprise. You recalled many times he would cook and give your mother the credit - she was the type to burn water.

You enter the large dining room. You noticed the table has changed - the dark brown wooden table changed to a glass one, surrounded by off white chairs. It makes the room brighter as the chandelier above it illuminates throughout the room.

“Well, it’s about time.”

Your mood soured at the voice of your sister.

“How long were you planning on making us wait for you?”

Your eyes glance her way. She wore an annoyed look on her face. Your older brother had been munching on a piece of bread, not sparing you a second glance.

“You’re the only one waiting for me to eat.” you say, noticing even your younger brother chewing. You took the seat besides him, patting his shoulder as you did so.

Your sister sucks her teeth, but she doesn’t respond.

The food is displayed in the center of the table and you waste no time in making your own plate. The last time you ate was this morning with your boyfriend and decided to skip lunch so you had room for dinner.

Conversation erupts throughout the table, you and your younger brother deciding to speak amongst one another. He spoke about his college classes and the parties he attends - everything you know due to social media. He speaks fondly of a person, making sure not to be too loud for listening ears to hear. He breezes past the word he before flushing and changing the subject - all you could do was smile.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

And of course, that voice speaks once more.

“Where’s your husband?” you retort.

“Not tonight.” your mother says warningly after your older brother snorts. She takes a sip of her wine and you want to repeat her words but bite your tongue.

“I wasn’t the one who said I would be bringing someone.” your sister takes a sip of water and raises her brows. “Now, where’s this boyfriend of yours?”

Her tone doesn’t go unnoticed. She thinks you’re lying about your boyfriend- you’re aware. You don’t feel the need to post him on social media and vice versa - the most you did was introduce him once during a facetime call with your younger brother, but that was all. Your older brother never pried into your life and you didn’t want to hear your mothers constant questions of marriage.

“He has to work.” you shrug.

“Sure.” your sister takes a bite of her steak.

You blink your eyes away to your mother who’s already staring at you.

“Hopefully we’ll meet him next time.”

You remain silent. You weren’t going to engage in yet another argument with her like she desired. You decided on picking up your fork and sinking your teeth into the steak.

“If he exists.”

You drop your fork harshly. It slams against the glass plate.

“Not again.” your older brother murmurs.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” you hiss at her.

“You supposedly have been dating someone for almost a year.” she shrugs her shoulders. “But we never see him.”

“Why would I bring him here?” you retort. “So you can continue to be a bitch?”

“Oh, I struck a nerve.” she giggles. “I’m not the one lying-”

“Lying?!” you snicker.

“Y/N has nothing to prove to any of us.” your younger brother defends with a roll of his eyes. “He does exist. I met him.”

“Oh, really?” your sister leans forward interested. “So did the both of you share details on your boyfriends?”

Your hands clench while your younger brother stiffens.

“That’s enough.” your older brother hisses, raising his hand in front of your sister. “You’re going too far.”

“What does she mean boyfriends?” your mother slurs and now you’re ready to pounce on your sister for her slick mouth.

“Nothing.” you, your younger and older brother say in unison. “I think we should just eat in silence.” your older brother grumbles.

“As do I.” your father quips.

“Your daughter,” your sister points to you. “is a liar. And your son,” she points to your younger brother besides you. “is gay.”

Your father stops eating while your older brother sighs.

“You can’t have anyone else be happy, can you?” you stand to your feet with a shake of your head. “What the fuck-”

“Y/N it’s okay.” your younger brother murmurs, but the soft tone indicates that it wasn’t okay in the slightest. Even if there was speculation on his sexuality, your mother was in denial and constantly asked him of girlfriends or flings that he was just end up lying about going on dates with the girls she’d set him up with. Luckily, said girls were kind enough to hold up the lie.

“Yes, Y/N. It’s okay.” your sister shrugs. “You can admit that you don’t have a boyfriend and we can all accept our baby brother for who he is.”

“Are you that miserable with life?” you ask. “Does that husband of yours not please you enough that you want to come here and fuck with everyone else lives? Or is it because he’s going broke?”

The table grows silent at the new revelancing. Your sister reddens with embarrassment, her hand clenching the glass of water in her hand.

“Is that true?” your mother slurs.

“Yes, it is.” you giggle, taking your seat. “Tell us how your dear old husband has filed for bankruptcy.”

Your older brother widens his eyes at you with a head shake. He was the one to tell you after he had heard mumblings from his own group of friends - the both of you laughed at the irony. Your sister had gloated that she married rich while already being rich - and now look where that got her.

“You sit around and try to make our lives hell because yours is.” you spit at your sister. “You fucked an old man for money just for him to end up broke.” you shake your head with another laugh. “I’m sure father would let you move back in. Just ask.”

Your sister stands, slamming her manicured hands against the table and before she can scream at you, she falls back.

The glass window directly behind you shatters. Particles of glass dance off your skin. The room erupts in screams and cries. Your eyes blink open and widen at the sight before you.

Your sister is bleeding, clutching her shoulder. Blood pools out from, coating her hands and staining her shirt.

Your older brother is the first to respond. He grabs a cloth and places it against the wound, a loud cry erupting from her throat.

“W-What the fuck?” your younger brother is in shock, unable to move from his seat. Your mother is crying and your father is patting his pockets for his phone. “We have to call the police-”

Another shot rings out, this time louder. You grasp your younger brother and fall to the ground, watching in horror as your father falls to his knees. He clenches his stomach, blood oozing out of him, as well.

Your eyes swell with tears, mind racing with confusion. You’re unsure what to do to help, completely frozen with fear. You hold your brother against you tightly, afraid that he would be the next one shot.

From beneath the table, your eyes catch dark leather boots. You're paralyzed with fear at the sight of two pairs of feet rushing forward. You hear another shot ring out, your older brother wincing. His body drops to the ground while he begins to bleed. The bleeding wound is on his shoulder similar to your sisters, but the next one is right between his eyes.

“Please! D-Do you want money?!” your mother cries, her arms wrapping around your deceased brother.

You are the next to scream. The glass table is flipped, shattering against the marble floor. Your brother holds onto you tighter, but only for a second. He’s being ripped away from you and now it’s your turn to plead.

“N-No! Take me! Just leave-”

A black gun is placed against your brother's head. His eyes are closed while soft tears are spilling out of his eyes. You’re afraid to move or speak for his sake.

The masked man is tall. He sports a completely black attire with an all white chilling mask that hides his eyes.

The masked man’s partner sends a shot to your mother and her crying stops, but you’re unable to look her way. The eyeless holes of the masked man before you paralyze you in fear.

“P-Please…” you begin to cry. Your father whimpers behind you while your sister is crying behind the masked man. Your older brother and mother are dead and you don’t want your younger brother to follow suit. “W-We have money…just don’t hurt him. W-What is it that you w-want?”

You gasp when the masked man slams the handle of his gun against your brother's head. He falls to the ground limp. “He isn’t dead.” the second masked man says from across the room, voice muffled. “Yet.”

“P-Please don’t kill us.” you begged, bowing lower to show your mercy. Your hands rest above your head and you feel the broken glass of the window pinching your skin.

You scream once you feel your hair being tugged. The masked man in front of you forces you to your feet. You don’t want to look the man in the face - the white emotionless mask frightened you. You’re unsure who these men are and what they truly wanted with you. You assumed money - your father being well known as wealthy and your family name was just as out there. But did they have to kill you all one by one to get money? You would have given them anything in the home - fine jewelry, expensive art pieces and furniture and more - if they allowed your family to be unharmed.

You stiffen when you feel the cold gun against your lips. The masked man taps it a few times. Your heart jumps out of your chest when you realize what he’s expecting of you. You open your mouth slowly, shuddering when you feel the gun slide between your lips.

The masked man turns to face your sister who’s watching with wide eyes. Her clothing is stained with her own blood and you’re unsure how long she’d last until she passed out due to her injuries.

The gun slides deeper inside your mouth. Your eyes close, breathing hitching. You’re unsure if he’s doing this to scare you - because it’s obviously working - or a way to defile you even further.

The gun is removed from your mouth. You hear footsteps begin to kick up. Your eyes blink open to find the second masked man grabbing your sister and hoisting her up. “W-What are you doing?!”

Your sister hisses at the harsh treatment as she’s being rushed out of the dining room. You want to follow her - to reach out and help her, but you can’t. The masked man is in front of you, dark eye sockets on you.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name being heard by the masked man causes you to shudder. You’re shocked - goosebumps roaming your body. Did the man behind the mask know you? Your family? You do not recognize the voice even if it is muffled behind the mask nor do you recognize the stature of his body.

“You know my name.” you murmur. You begin to think that maybe this is someone that was wronged by your family - a long list that would possibly take all night to go over in your mind. “D-Do I know your name?”

The masked man is silent for a moment, so much that you’re unsure if he heard you.

“Do-”

“I heard you.” the masked man interrupts. “No, you do not.”

You hands begin to tremble. That doesn’t tell you who he is, what he wants or any motives. You not knowing who is was didn’t mean that you didn’t know you and your family - or if he was ever wronged by them.

“I can tell you’re thinking so hard.” you stiffen when he brings up a gloved hand to touch your cheek. “You’re wondering why we’re doing this. Why am I here before you?”

The man is touching you so softly, his gloved thumb rubbing along your cheek. You want to sob at his actions..

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

Your breathing hitchens when his hand slides down to your neck and he takes a single step closer to you. Your mind is screaming at you, alarm bells are ringing.

“You’re afraid. Understandable.”

The gloved hand drops back to its side and he tilts his head.

“Who are you?” you whisper. As much as your heart beats for an answer, you’re sure that you’re afraid to find out. What if you saw his face and knew exactly who he was - then what? What would he do to you then upon knowing his face and name? “There must be something you want from me?”

The masked man moves slowly. He removes his gloves and drops them upon the floor effortlessly. He’s young - you can always tell the age of a person by looking at their hands. They appeared soft and young. Fingernails trimmed and cleaned - you snap your eyes away and into the eyeless sockets.

“I do want something from you.”

“Money?” you ask hopefully, even if in your heart you’re sure that if that's what he wanted, there would be a robbery instead of blatant murder.

“I have more than enough money. Especially in my profession.” you hear a tint of amusement in his muffled tone. “Down the hall to the right, there’s a bathroom, correct?”

Just who the hell was this man and how long had he been following you - and your family?

“Yes.”

“Lead the way.”

It’s a command. Your eyes lower to your younger brother’s unmoving body, surrounded by broken glass and splattered blood.

“He'll remain alive.” the masked man says. “You have my word.”

Somehow, his word didn’t mean much - but you decided that if you did as you were told that you, your sister and brother would remain alive. Just as long as you sacrifice yourself.

You sauntered down the quiet hallway to the nearest bathroom - a large room with high ceilings and a whole wall dedicated to a large mirror. You can feel the man close behind you. As you open the door for the both of you, he’s quick to close it behind him.

“Turn around.”

Another command. You do as you’re told, unsure what the masked man wants from you. Your beating heart has a clue.

As you turn, your eyes meet his - not the socketless ones of the mask. Dark brown eyes laying upon a smooth, young face. You feel hot with embarrassment when your eyes don’t blink - they continue to stare. His hair is dark and shiny, a single strain hanging on his forehead while the rest didn’t appear out of place in the slightest. His lips are pink and full, moisturized just as his skin.

You didn’t know who this man was but the sight of his catches you by surprise.

“My name’s Hoseok.”

Hoseok.

You didn’t know a Hoseok.

“Hoseok…”

Hoseok is a bit easier to read when his mask is off. His eyes widen only for a slight moment at you repeating his name.

“Please, Hoseok.” you’re frightened to the core. This man is a killer along with his partner. Your mind can only wonder what in the world he’s doing with your sister. “W-Whatever you want. I can give it. Just please don’t hurt my brother and sister.”

You hear Hoseok sigh. He shakes his head with a low tsk. “You are so naive, Y/N.” he places a hand upon your cheek once more. “So caring. But that’s what I love about you.”

Your eyebrows knit together.

“I’ve known you for over a year now.” Hoseok begins. “I watched as you went to work each day even if you’re worth millions. You lived in a condo in the city - smaller than what you’re accustomed to.”

Hoseok’s thumb outlines your lips.

“Every now and then you would visit your brother and spend the day with him. You would also hang out with your boyfriend when he wasn’t cheating.”

Your eyes blink a few times at his words. Cheating?

“Of course you didn’t know.” Hoseok hums. “But I do. He’s been cheating on you for months now, baby. Dye red hair with split ends. Name’s-”

“Bella.” you murmur, the short description as all you needed. “His-”

“Best friend.” Hoseok finishes.

You look away from Hoseok.

You want to feel sad about your boyfriend's cheating, but you are beginning to feel numb. In normal circumstances, you’d possibly cry at how naive you were - clueless. You should have seen this coming long ago by just how close Bella and he were, but you didn’t want to appear insecure bringing it up to him.

But again, you aren’t as sad as you want to be. You had lost three members of your family thus far and your sister was hurt while your brother knocked unconscious.

“You’re not like them.” Hoseok’s voice drags you back to reality. “You aren’t as horrible as them.”

“They didn’t deserve to die.” you quip.

“Your father has done some fucked up things in the past. Your brother following in his footsteps.” Hoseok twirls a strand of your hair between both his index and thumb. “Your mother was just a nuisance. I know how much she put you down for not being like her.”

Just how much did Hoseok know about you and your family?

“You and your brother are the only hope left.” Hoseok murmurs. “The only two that aren’t far gone.”

You shake your head slightly.

“Even your sister is far gone.”

“Please-”

“Ssshh.”

Hoseok’s finger lifts to your lips to hush you.

“Turn around.”

You feel Hoseok’s hands upon your shoulders as you face the mirror. His eyes watch yours through the reflection.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“So are you.” you murmur, the hot feeling coming back. You’re unsure what Hoseok’s true intentions were, but his admission told you that he knows more than enough. And you had already seen what he is capable of.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” Hoseok says. “You don’t have to say anything to flatter me.”

“I’m not.” you swallow. You happen to think Hoseok was an attractive person - if you would have met him under other circumstances, you would be swooning. It’s difficult to ignore the elephant in the room even if the man is attractive.

Hoseok offers a smile. You ponder just how someone who appears so innocent and nice could be a killer - you wonder what he and his partner truly was. Hitmen? Assassins?

Hoseok’s eyes never leave yours, not even as his hands lower to touch along your neck then to your collarbone.

“How did you…find me?” you’re unsure of the word to use.

“A client.”

You inhale.

“I’m sure you know what I am by now, baby. Hitman?”

You exhale. Your conscience was right. Someone had hired him to do this to your family.

“I was paid to kill your family.”

Hoseok’s words replay in your mind. All you can think about is how he managed to do so - your mother, father and brother were already gone. By Hoseok’s words, your sister will be next.

“Taehyung and I are not monsters. We killed those we saw fit.” You feel Hoseok’s body press against yours, radiating warmth. “We take on these jobs as hitmen, but we make sure those who are paid to kill are worth killing. Your brother and you…are not.”

You blink. It feels sick to feel satisfied that he had no intentions on harming you and your brother - as the rest of your family lay dead.

“We take money upfront to do the job. We kill the client if we feel as if the target does not deserve death.”

You swallow when Hoseok’s hands begin to lower. His hands halt upon your chest and right above your heart. He feels it thump.

“Are you scared of me, Y/N?” Hoseok questions.

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me.” you respond to him. Your head leans back against his chest, eyes never leaving him in the mirror.

“You have my word. You and your brother are safe.”

You gulp.

Your father was dead, as was your mother and brother. Your sister - if she was still alive - was going to be soon. You had nothing left to lose besides your own life and that of your brother. Hoseok has been following you for a year now and knew everything - there was no escaping him.

Maybe if you gave him what he wanted, you could keep your sister alive.

“Is she still alive?”

“Your sister? For now, yes.”

You nod your head.

“What do you want from me, Hoseok?” you had a clue. “What happens after all of this?”

You watch his expression change. He hasn’t thought about it that far as of yet, you note.

“I don’t want you to fear me.”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to leave me, either.”

You feel Hoseok press himself even tighter against you.

He inhaled deeply. There was no escaping Hoseok.

“I won’t leave you.” you murmur. “There isn’t anywhere for me to go. You’ve had eyes on me for a long time.”

Hoseok again smiles. He places a kiss against the back of your head and inhales the fresh scent of your hair. “I knew keeping you alive was a good choice, baby. You’re smart and kind. You actually care about people.” His words are sinister and they replay in your mind. You ponder when Hoseok actually thought about keeping you alive and what you’ve done that had his decision forming. You feel uneasy thinking about how he has been watching you this entire time and you never felt his presence. There was never a time in the last year that you felt eyes upon you - or if anyone was following you in the slightest.

In the end, there was no escaping Hoseok - so you wouldn’t even try.

“Do you want me, Hoseok?”

Hoseok is a dangerous man - him and his partner. Taehyung was his name; a name you didn’t recognize, either. He was hired to kill your family by an unknown person or organization - he followed you for over a year now and knows your routine. He became infatuated within that time. The reason you were truly unsure of, but you could use this to your advantage. Though you do not truly understand what Hoseok wants in the end of all of this - a romantic relationship or just sexual encounter - you were determined to do it. To stay alive through it all - maybe you could convince him that your sister was even worth saving.

You turn to face Hoseok, placing your hands against his chest. “Do you want me, Hoseok?” you repeat, your voice lowering to a murmur. Your hands rub up his chest to his shoulders. He’s solid, stiff shoulders jolting as if you sent a bolt of electricity through them.

“Y/N…?” Hoseok murmurs, his hand touching yours as it reaches his cheek. “...do you want me to kill your boyfriend?”

You try not to react to his question. Slowly, you shake your head.

“Do you still love him?”

You don’t want to anger Hoseok. In a way you did love him - you assumed the love was reciprocated. In hindsight, you should have known the love he had for someone he considered a friend would be stronger.

“It would gather suspicion if my brother, sister and I survived this and then he died, don’t you think?”

Hoseok hums. Your words don’t go unnoticed by him - you were trying to keep your sister alive with everything you had in you to offer.

“I suppose you are.”

It’s insane to think Hoseok is a hitman. You would consider such a beauty of a man to be literally anything else - a model or an actor of sorts. You wondered what his partner looked like and if he was just as beautiful.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Y/N.”

Your hands were becoming sweaty, nervous on where this was going to go with Hoseok.

“You said you aren’t afraid of me, right?”

You nod your head, but even Hoseok knew this was a lie. You stand before him and it would appear that you were fearless, but your eyes were glossy, having cried all the tears you could. You were shuddering with each breath you took - but you were a determined woman and this is one of the reasons he adored you. You were so selfless in a family full of selfish individuals.

“Okay.” Hoseok grasps the hand from his cheek and presses a firm kiss upon it. “Then there shouldn't be any secrets.”

You’re positive Hoseok can hear your heart quickening.

“I’ve watched you for so long. I’ve been in your home as you slept. While you showered.”

Hoseok’s eyes watch the shock go through your expression, even if you didn’t want to look it.

“I stayed and viewed the way you’d touch yourself at night. Your moans were so lovely, pure. A raw reaction from someone who thinks they’re alone. But you were almost never alone, Y/N. I always followed you.”

Hoseok’s free hand grabs your waist. He pulls you closer to him and it’s painfully obvious that he’s excited about recanting the times he’s watched you touch yourself.

“But as I watch, Y/N, I think how deep down you knew someone was there. You would always display yourself willingly for me, widen your legs in my direction and put on a show just for me.”

It’s then that you feel Hoseok’s hand glide down and it’s now gripping your ass.

His words cause you to feel hot - humiliated. The thought of you not being alone while you touched yourself is horrifying enough.

And even more horrifying that his admission causes you to clench your legs.

“I often speculate just how wet you’d be wrapped around my fingers. How you’d taste. Feel.”

Hoseok becomes more touchy, allowing your hand to fall from his cheek so he can bring you even closer to him - how was it possible? You had no idea.

The room begins to feel ever hotter, Hoseok radiating such warmth. His lips bury between your neck and he leaves open mouth kisses upon it.

“Would you give me a taste, Y/N?”

You were positive that you’d end up in Hell right alongside Hoseok. Your body shouldn’t be reacting this way to a man that has been hired to kill your family - especially when said man has admitted to stalking you for a good amount of time now. The bodies of your family lay dead and unconscious in the next room - who even knows what Taehyung is doing to your sister now.

“Y-Yes.”

Hoseok chuckles, a dark look in his eyes. He’s quick to push you deeper inside the bathroom and hoist your body so you’re sitting upon the sink. He’s quick to remove your pants, not being gentle in the slightest.

“Red’s a scandalous color.” Hoseok murmurs, a hand coming out to touch the wet patch right in the center of your panties. “You’re so wet, dripping all over the place. I’m sure I could slide right in now if I wanted to.”

Hoseok slides your panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your clit. You want to cover yourself at how intense his stare was, the hot feeling of embarrassment running rampant through you.

You gasp when Hoseok dives right, his tongue laying flat against your clit. It catches you by surprise even if it shouldn’t have. His tongue flicks your clit hungrily - he’s been waiting for this moment. The countless times he had watched you so closely as you touched yourself, he could only lick his lips and take in the moment.

Now, Hoseok could revel in the fact that he had you right where he wanted you.

Hoseok lifts his lips from your lips to spit upon your clit before diving back in. He suckles upon your clit, his hands pushing down onto your thighs.

You bite your lips to dead the moan threatening to release. Your thighs shake with the forbidden pleasure, your mind going blink. You cannot recall the last time you’ve been eaten out by a man - your (now ex) boyfriend didn’t exactly enjoy doing it.

Hoseok lifts once more, pushing your panties to the side further. His eyes dip up to meet your hooded ones, licking his lips from your sweet taste.

“How does it feel, Y/N?” Hoseok murmurs his question, hand slapping your clit. You jolt, gasping at the sudden action. “You’re dripping all over the place for me.”

Hoseok slaps your pussy a second time, then a third, then fourth. He doesn’t stop until you’re shuddering beneath him and even wetter than before. It’s sinister to be here beneath him - your sister in the next room bleeding out, brother unconscious and selfish family members deceased.

“You like what I do to you, don’t you, baby?” Hoseok chuckles, dimples showing and eyes sparkling with lust. He inches his index and middle finger inside of you, thumb pressed against your clit. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?”

Hoseok begins to thrust inside of you. It’s evident now that he was a dominant person - the kind that’s always in charge. He doesn’t give you any mercy, fiercely pumping.

Hoseok hovers upon you, his eyes bouncing between your dripping pussy to your face. He groans, the idea of ruining you shoots deep within him and down to his core.

“H-Hoseok, please-”

“Shut up.” Hoseok hisses, voice deepening. He removes his fingers from inside your shortly just to slap your clit once more. You scream out at the loss of pleasure and the sudden sting. Without much warning, he enters his fingers inside of you once more, continuing his hellish pace. “I don’t want to hear you make a sound, Y/N.” Hoseok hisses, leaning down to come face to face with you. “Understood?”

The dominant type was what Hoseok definitely was. At first glance, you would assume he was a nice person. His smile was bright and it reached his eyes, appearing an innocent everyday man. But he was hired to kill your family and now - after doing so - you allowed him between your legs.

You were destined to go to Hell, especially when you nod your head at Hoseok’s command.

You bite your lip and allow whatever moan to subside. Your eyes are fluttering shut, hips jutting. Your head leans back, pussy clenching around Hoseok’s fingers.

“I thought you were going to be a difficult catch.” Hoseok’s breath is hot against your face. “Thought I was going to have to force you to obey me.”

A moan releases from your throat unwillingly and you whimper at the act, knowing that you had gone against Hoseok once more.

Hoseok hisses, shaking his head. He removes his fingers and a slap rings across the bathroom. You open your eyes to look at him and Hoseok could only chuckle - such eyes filled with lust. You were truly a vixen, the perfect match made for him.

“Since a whore like you cannot listen.” your eyes watch Hoseok mess with the belt of his pants. You swallow, stomach churning in anticipation. “I’ll have to fuck the submission into you.”

Hoseok’s big, but you don’t have the chance nor time to marvel at the sight of him. He’s already forcing his way inside of you - but you’re so wet that it isn’t an issue entering.

Hoseok’s hands slap against your lips, roughly pushing you back and against the wall. His eyes, dark and filled with lust, bore into your own. He begins to thrust, pace fast and brutal.

“I though…fuck - that I’d have to force you to obey me.” Hoseok continues his speech. You can hear his clear as day, even with his grunts and the sound of wet skin slapping together.

“But you were a good little whore for me, Y/N. You did obey me.”

You could only swallow, breathing intensified.

“Just how,” Hoseok groans deeply, eyes blinking. You were so tight and wet - clenching around him lovingly. “J-Just how I knew you would.”

Hoseok releases his hand from your lips to clench both of your hips roughly. He continues his pace, eyes fixed on your pussy coating his cock.

You were going to cum, angered that you couldn’t scream out like you desired. Deep down, however disturbing it was, you enjoyed the control and dominance this man had over you. His hand that once fell over your mouth still feels warm, as if it was still there.

“You’re finally mine, Y/N. All mine.” Hoseok growls, thrusts sloppy. His mind flashes with the many ways he could claim you; control you. “Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to control.” Hoseok’s fingernails dig into your skin. “You’d like that, huh?”

Your head is nodding, breathing hitching. Your eyes squeeze close and it’s only when your cheeks feel wet do you realize you’re crying. Now you’re sure you’d be humiliated once the deed was done.

“You’re crying.” Hoseom chuckles. He leans down, tongue licking at your tear stained cheeks. “So pretty when you cry. So…so submissive for me.” Hoseok lips trail from your cheeks to your lips. He presses a firm kiss to your lips, hips slowing their pace, but they’re still deep and rough.

You’re cumming, creaming Hoseok’s cock like the submissive girl you were for him - tightening so much so that he can’t help but do the same. His mind flashes - he can’t wait until he has you in all the ways he wants. Tied up, begging for him. Maybe even he’d allow you to take control some days - he wanted it all.

“What is he doing to her?” your sister asks Taehyung, bullet wound wrapped. She leans against the wall of the kitchen. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, only glancing the girl's way and snickering. The mask lays on the ground and he’s checking his watch upon his wrist.

Taehyung himself was growing impatient, having accompanied Hoseok to this job. It was about three months prior that Hoseok had come to him about the job. He had stated that he followed a girl - you - for nearly a year at that point. He spoke of you fondly, called you pretty and stated that you were different from your sister and the rest of the family.

“Can you not hear me talking to you?” your sister hisses, clenching her fists. “I’m paying good fucking money-”

“You haven’t paid us fully yet.” Taehyung interrupts, voice deep and laced with annoyances. “Don’t think we haven’t done our own research.”

Your sister gulps.

Every hitmen had their own desired price, Hoseok splitting the large amount with him. Half was due up front and the other would be due after the deed is done - Taehyung knows well enough that your sister was broke. Her husband had gone bankrupt and seemingly all she had left was a wealthy last name with no money to show for it.

However, killing your entire family and you being the sole survivor would garner her a large sum of inheritance and fame. She once bragged that she could even write a book about the situation - being the sole survivor of a hit put out on her family. She even instructed them to make sure she was hurt in the process.

“I just want to make sure everything happens smoothly.” your sister murmurs, eyes glancing away.

“Putting a hit on your entire family isn’t exactly something that can go smoothly.”

Your sister whips her head around to Taehyung, but her eyes meet yours. You appeared disheveled, hair a mess and eyes puffy. “Y/N-”

“You did this?” you murmured to her, Hoseok behind you. Taehyung, another beautiful man just as Hoseok, but you had no time to dwell, stood against the nearest wall.

“Why isn’t she dead?” your sister avoids your eyes and screams directly to Hoseok. Her voice cracks. “I-I..we had an agreement.”

“I may be a hitman, but I still have morals.” Hoseok responds. “If the people you want dead do not deserve death, then who am I to give it?”

Your sister shakes her head. She inhales deeply. “That’s not what we agreed on.”

You swallow, throat tight. It begins to ache and your vision turns blurry. Your heart aches just as your throat. The hit that was put out against your family was not one from a wronged employee, or someone that you barely knew. It came from inside the home.

You and your sister had your own differences, but you would have never thought life would become like this.

“I thought you were dying.” you blinked away, voice dangerously low. “I was willing…” you scoff. It didn’t matter what you were willing to do to help your sister because in the end, you were never intended to get this far. If it was any other hitman besides Hoseok, you would have surely been dead. “...I gave myself to the hitman you hired in hopes he’d keep you alive.”

Your sister doesn’t meet your eyes - she refuses to.

The thought of your younger brother being dead crosses your mind and fist clenches.

“I want you to have the final decision if she lives or dies.”

Hoseok’s voice booms behind you. For a second, it was as if time stood still. Your eyes bore into your sister, and only now did she meet your eyes.

“W-What?” your sister's voice drops and she attempts to step closer, but it’s Taehyung that raises his gun does she stop.

Your sister catches the way Hoseok’s hands land upon your shoulders, gently rubbing. She shakes her head.

You don’t speak at first, eyes looking straight at your sister. It was her turn to cry, whimpering softly. This wasn’t part of her plan - she never intended on any survivors but her. You’re unsure how she planned for everything to come together - would she grieve you and your family? If so, would it be a genuine sadness or a fabricated one?

“My brother,” you say, head only turning slightly towards Hoseok. “would not be harmed?”

“You have my word.” Hoseok repeats the same sentence as he did in the bathroom. “You and him would always be safe.”

You inhale.

You never would have thought you’d be in a situation such as this - but how could you forgive her? Can you just let her go and come together a month from now at another family dinner? The thought alone was comical - what would stop her from just trying to kill you herself?

“How would my brother and I not be caught in this mess?”

Your sister clasps her hand over her mouth, holding in a whimper.

“Leave it to me, baby.” Hoseok squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You take your eyes off of your sister and turn fully to Hoseok. He offers you a smile - a kind and genuine one. His eyes were warm and for a moment, you actually felt safe. As insane as it was, you believed his words.

“Kill her.” you say to him. “I have to go check on my brother.”

You already told yourself you were going to Hell for what you’ve allowed Hoseok to do to you in the bathroom, but you solidified it as you strolled out of the kitchen, ignoring the cries of your sister followed by a loud gunshot.

#test your morality #bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #bangtan smut #btswritersclub #hoseok yandere #hitman hoseok #hoseok x reader #explicit-tae #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #moral dilemma #bts yandere #hoseok smut #halloween masterlist #trivia-yandere halloween masterlist

796 notes · View notes

obsessedwithtoomanythings · 1 year

Text

Keep Your Eyes Open

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, female anatomy, reader is called she, lots of talk of guns, but no gunplay (I mean, it’s on the table and it’s in her hand, but it’s never explicitly used for the sexual stuff), dirty talk, crush confessions, Leon asks her out then fucks her.

Words: 4K

A/N: This is my first smut in forever. Cheers to Leon S. Kennedy for bringing back that smut inspiration! Inspired by this post! Thanks to @angelltheninth for letting me write it!

“Listen, you know I consider you a friend… but-” Hunnigan starts, eyes filled with concern as she looks over the piece of paper littered with holes. Let’s just say more of my shots ended up in the wall behind the target than the actual target.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been going every day, Ingrid.” My defense is pointless, and we both know that.

“Your firearm recertification is in 3 days. If your accuracy doesn’t get better by then, you won’t be allowed to carry a gun. Do you understand what that means?” She asks as if I haven’t been losing sleep over the issue.

“I know.” It means I’ll be the only agent in this fucking building who isn’t carrying a gun. “I’ll become ‘the girl who can’t carry a gun’ faster than you can say ‘fuck off’.”

A scowl comes from the agent in front of me. “Language,” she reminds. “Maybe you should ask another agent to help?”

“And let the whole building know I’m about 11 shots away from failing my recertification? Pass. I’ll just go practice some more,” I scoff, before turning on my heel to step toward the door.

“Just think about it! I know a lot of agents who aren’t dicks and who are more than willing to help!” She shouts, but I’m not listening anymore. I step out of Ingrid’s office into the cool hallway, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click. Taking a steadying breath, my feet begin to carry me toward the place I’ve been seeing in my nightmares lately. The shooting range.

“Hey, rookie!” I hear a voice say, halting me in my tracks before I was able to close much distance between me and the stairs. I turn my head toward the voice. Leon Kennedy.

“What’s up, Agent Kennedy?” It feels formal to call him that, but while we’re in this building, it feels wrong to call him by his first name, given he is technically my superior.

“Agent Kennedy? Feels a little formal,” he says with a teasing tone, and I chuckle at him voicing my thoughts.

“Well, we are at work,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Leon and I have become an unlikely pair of friends. The best agent in practically the entire country and the agent who is about to fail her firearm recertification. ‘Maybe he’d be willing to help me?’ The thought is dismissed as quickly as it appeared. ‘And make him think you’re incompetent? Pass.’

“True. Still feels weird though, Agent.”

“Wow!” I gasp in feigned surprise. “I’m not ‘rookie’ anymore?” A small smile makes its way across his lips as he chuckles.

“You’re definitely still ‘rookie’, just felt like being nice.” His comment is followed by a brief roll of my eyes.

“Okay but seriously? What’s up? I have some stuff I have to do, unfortunately,” I sigh, anxiety filling me again.

“Well, I wanted to see what you were up to.” The smile is still there. Any idiot with eyes can see how attractive Leon is. Bright baby blues, cut jawline, nose that anyone would be lucky to sit on. I have definitely had more than my fair share of daydreams starring the agent in front of me.

“I was headed down to the shooting range. I have my recertification in 3 days.” I pray he’ll opt to find something else to do.

“Oh, that shit’s a cakewalk.” Yeah, for you.

“I really want to practice a bit more. I get nervous before stuff like this.” Admitting this is not an easy feat, my cheeks dusting a light pink in embarrassment.

“Okay,” he says, and for a moment, I think he’ll depart with a ‘good luck’ and a wave. Why the hell would I be so lucky? “I’ll come with. I’ve taken that test a few times so I’ll be able to reassure you that you’ll pass with flying colors.” My eyes widen significantly, and the nerves suddenly take over my tongue.

“N-no!” I stutter, much louder than I intended. His eyebrows furrow over in confusion at the sudden outburst. “I-I just assume you’ve got better things to do.” Smooth.

“Not really. I was hoping to spend some time with you, so it’s no big deal.” Kill me now. He moves toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist to turn me and walk toward the range. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

This is going worse than I could have ever imagined. The target has maybe 3 holes in it and I’ve unloaded a whole clip of 15 shots.

“Well, it’s better than the last clip,” he chuckles, eyes still locked on my practically unscathed piece of paper. The shots didn’t even hit anything vital. I drop my head to the countertop in front of me in defeat.

“I may as well just hand over my gun right now,” I mutter into the hard surface below my forehead. Leon’s hand rests on my back comfortingly before he speaks.

“No, come on. I’ll help you,” he says, bringing the target closer to switch it out for a new one. I turn my head toward him with raised eyebrows, mostly in a ‘how can you possibly fix this?’, my temple resting against the cool surface now. “I noticed a couple of things you can fix that’ll help.” A sigh, forehead back on the counter. Leon pats my back again. “Seriously. Come on.” I rise up again, cheeks red from embarrassment as he pushes the target back to the required distance. Not that I think I’d do any better if it was closer.

“Leon, it’s pointless.”

“No, it’s not. Raise the gun.” I roll my eyes and do as he instructed. “Okay, first off, you’re locking your elbows. Loosen up.” He says, tapping a finger in the crook of my elbow. A chill runs down my spine at the contact. ‘Wow, it’s been too long since I got laid.’ I drop my elbows slightly, noting that it definitely feels awkward.

“This feels weird,” I mutter. Leon smirks.

“I’m sure it does if you’ve been firing with your elbows like that. Loosening them helps with controlling movement caused by the recoil.” He explains, and I’m grateful he’s actually telling me reasons, as it’ll make it easier to remember. “Do you fire with your feet like that?” I glance down at my position, my feet across from each other, shoulder width apart.

“Yeah?” I say, forming it as a question.

“Bring your dominant foot forward. It’ll steady you more,” He says, his tone definitely airing more on the professional side.

“Sir, yes, sir.” The words are mumbled with a light giggle at the end, and a small smile raises the corner of Leon’s lips.

“Okay try firing now.”

I squeeze the trigger slowly, the jolt surprises me which causes my eyes to close for a split second, and to steady myself, I accidentally move my feet back into their original position. The shot lands in the wall. Again. The disappointment on my face must be tangible from a mile away.

“Okay, I think I can fix this actually,” he says, and I sigh in defeat.

“Yeah I’m sure you can, super cop.”

Suddenly, as if the world is working against me, his much larger frame is pressed against my backside. Feeling his chest rise against my back and his hips grazing my ass, I breathe in a quick gasp. Completely enveloped in his scent, hard lines of muscle and heat practically radiating from him, it’s a miracle I don’t melt into a puddle right here on the concrete. His hands find my ear protection, removing the makeshift headphones from my ears, much to my confusion.

“The problem is,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and I swear he can feel the shiver that runs down my spine, pooling in my panties. “You’re scared of it.”

“W-what?” I stutter, completely affected by his presence.

“You’re scared of the gun. The recoil scares you, and so does the sound of the shot,” he explains, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’ll find the sound isn’t nearly as loud as you think.” His arms come up, fingers grazing along my skin which causes goosebumps to rise across my arms. He rests his hands right below my elbows, the warmth practically seeping into my bones. “Let me take the recoil. Just focus on keeping your eyes open.” His words send a wave of heat through my spine and I try and fail to not shift against him. His leg shifts forward, forcing my dominant leg into the position he recommended earlier, which presses his hips tighter against me. I almost topple over from the overwhelming sensation of heat from him mixed with his intoxicating scent filling my senses, and for a moment, my vision blurs and I squeeze my eyes shut to clear the sight. Like flipping a switch, his fingers graze my chin, lightly pressing against the edges of my jaw to get my attention.

“Leon, I can’t-”

“I believe I asked you to keep these open, sweetheart.” The agent’s voice is rough in against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations from his words rumble through his chest against my back. It feels like I peel my eyes back open as they beg to remain closed, and I attempt to get my focus on the target in front of me instead of the man behind me. “Now, squeeze the trigger.”

As I do, his hips move forward against me, and I release a gasp. Focusing on keeping my eyes open. The shot rings out, not nearly as loud as I assumed without the ear protection on. Exactly like Leon said. It makes contact with the paper, inches from the paper’s bullseye. My jaw drops at the sight. I actually hit the target.

“Good girl,” he mutters, arms dropping to rest against my waist tenderly. “Told you. You were focusing on it too much.” I feel my arms relax, pointing the barrel of the gun toward the counter as I attempt to turn around to face him, but his frame is like a brick wall.

“Leon,” I begin before another intake of air comes from my chest as Leon’s lips land on the soft skin of my neck. The reaction is immediate, my hips canting back toward him as I set the gun down.

“Nuh uh, baby. Pick that back up and finish unloading the whole clip,” he breathes into the column of my throat. “Want you to get used to this stance so you’re ready for your exam.” The light kisses quickly dissolve into small nips and bites, a moan tearing from my lips as my head lolls back, resting on his shoulder. He stops immediately.

“Leon wait-”

“I told you to finish firing the clip. It’s only 14 more shots. I think you can handle it.” A breath breaks from my chest as I lean forward, arms coming back up into the position Leon had put me in, although his hands remain on my hips this time. The gun goes off again with a bang once, twice, three times, landing in similar spots as the first shot, although they are definitely getting closer to the edge of acceptable. They are hitting the target though. As I squeeze the fourth shot, the man behind me pushes his hips forward again. “Stop thinking, sweetheart.”

“You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just asked me to dinner.” The words come out much more breathy than intended, and I feel like I’m waving a neon sign that says ‘I want you to fuck me’. He chuckles lowly against me, his breath tickling my ear once again.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take that,” he admits.

“But pushing your hips into me isn’t more forward than that?” I tease. Fifth shot. Only 9 more. He shrugs.

“I came up behind you to gauge the reaction before I did that though, didn’t I?”

“And what did my reaction tell you, Agent Kennedy?” My words are much softer now as if talking louder would shatter the mood of the room, which is alight with tension.

“That you want me to fuck you silly.” Sixth shot. “Did I read that right, rookie?”

Seventh shot. I nod gently, trying not to seem eager, despite the fact that my panties are practically ruined by this point, heat gathering in my lower belly and twisting.

“Leon, can we just-” His fingers skim over the waistline of my skirt, just barely dipping below it.

“No. Not until I know you’ll pass that recertification.” He’s gone back to nipping at my neck until he finds that patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. A moan leaves my lips unbidden, and I can practically feel his smirk against my skin. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Eighth shot. More than halfway done. His hand drops down further into my skirt until it’s grazing across the damp spot on my panties and I feel more than hear the low groan that he releases. “Fuck, baby.” My arms go lax as his fingers draw a single circle over my clit through the delicate lace before he moves to remove his hand altogether.

“Leon, no,” I protest as he presses his lips against my ear, intentionally using a low rumbling tone.

“Finish. Firing.” The command springs arms back up into position.

Ninth shot. Tenth shot. Eleventh shot.

“Doing so good, baby,” The praise goes straight through me, a wave of arousal leaking through the lace. Hands dropping back down to my clit, Leon pushes my panties to the side easily, swirling a finger through the wetness pooling there before bringing it up to press cruelly against my nerve endings. “Is all this for me, sweetheart?” Twelfth shot. I nod, lips pressed tightly together to muffle the squeaks and sounds attempting to leave my throat from his attention. Thirteenth shot. One more.

As I squeeze the trigger on the final shot, Leon’s fingers press into me harshly, hitting that sweet spongy part inside unintentionally and it causes a jolt in my limbs. The shot hits the wall with a pop. I hear a brief ‘tsk-tsk’ in my ear before he speaks.

“Reload.”

“But I-”

“I said, reload. You’re gonna do all fifteen again.” Dread takes over and I feel tears pool in my eyes in frustration, and Leon coos in my ear at the sight. “Oh, poor baby. You can do this.”

“Leon, please, I can’t. I need-” I gasp, setting down the gun on the counter being careful not to flag either of us. (cause gun safety is a thing).

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” Cocky asshole.

“You.” The word is nothing but a plea.

“Aw, baby. How about I give you what you need, and then you fire off those fifteen shots? That sound like something you can do for me, pretty girl?” I nod eagerly against his shoulder before his hand is between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to the chilly countertop.

“What about the door?” I ask, breathless and red in the face.

“I locked it when we came in here,” he mumbles as he grips the hem of my skirt and brings it up until he can see the damp lace covering me. Did he plan this? The question surfaces but before it can leave my mouth, my panties hit the floor around my ankles. “Fuck, I wanna taste you,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, but I groan in protest.

“Please just fuck me, Leon,” I practically beg, impatience leaking from my pores at this point.

“I don’t know babe, I’m kinda hungry,” he says, and I don’t need to turn around to know his signature smirk is plastered on his face.

“I will let you later, I promise. I need you right now. Inside.” His chest presses to my back, bringing his mouth close enough to hear him as he speaks.

“Later? You saying you want more than just this?” The clinking of his belt is audible over my heavy breathing because of course, I’m the only one out of breath. I nod. “I wanna hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I like you,” I start, arms splayed out flat over the top of the counter, fingers searching for purchase.

“Maybe we should get dinner after this then?” He asks, still smiling. I nod.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter and upon hearing this, Leon laughs. Not a deep chuckle, not a teasing sound, a real laugh. An almost embarrassed laugh. Hands finding my waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Took my time with it, didn’t I?” He asks, and I can hear the nerves in his tone. He’s embarrassed. Like, really truly embarrassed.

“Yeah, you sure di-” The words are cut off as he presses the head against my entrance, dipping the tip in for the briefest of seconds before pulling out and repeating the process. It feels like hours of this torture, his teasing thrusts and slight grazes over my clit before he finally, finally, slides in to the hilt, bottoming out in one stroke. We both release groans at the sensation of my walls molding to accommodate his length, twitching, and spasming as I tighten unconsciously.

“Holy shit, pretty girl, I wasn’t expecting you to be this tight,” he growls into my spine, hunched over my frame as he collects himself. When he does, he leans back, hands moving from my hips to grasp my shoulders, bringing my front away from the surface til I’m practically upright, his cock still nestled snuggly in my heat.

“What are you-”

“Now, reload the gun.” His tone sends a wave of slick down around his length, and he rumbles a groan against my collarbone.

“What-”

“I told you that you were gonna fire off those fifteen shots.” My hands shake as I grasp the glock in my hands, reloading and then trying and failing to return to my stance, so I opt to just position my arms correctly. “Good girl.”

My finger in place, I take a deep steadying breath squeezing. Leon pulls his hips back and slams back home as the shot rings out, and I stop a scream from ripping free as my hands fly back to the counter.

“Lee, you can’t just do that.” The words come out as more of a moan than actual words, the syllables slurring together like a girl who’s had one too many drinks.

“Yet you still hit the target,” he says proudly. I look up and notice that there are fifteen holes in the paper. Sixteen total shots were taken and only one missed. Shit if I had known this is how to get good at shooting, I would have asked sooner. “Come on. You got fourteen more, sweetheart.”

The other shots follow the same routine as the first.

Shot.

Thrust.

Praise.

By the time I’m on the last three shots, my whole body feels like it’s on fire, every inch covered in sweat from his punishing thrusts, tears dripping from my eyes.

“You are doing so good, baby. Three more.” He sounds as wrecked as I feel, voice gravelly against my pulse. His hands grip beneath my elbows again, pressing them back into the correct form. “You are so close.”

The bullet hits the paper with an audible pop. His cock slams back into me, tip hitting my cervix hard enough that I’m pretty sure it’ll be bruised. Broken moans fall from my dry lips, mouth feeling akin to sandpaper.

“Good job, baby. Two more.”

“Please just come for me Leon, I can’t anymore,” My arms droop, barely able to hold the weight of the gun that I’ve grown used to by this point.

“Come on, you can do this. It’s just two more shots. You are doing so well,” he reassures before sinking his teeth into my skin, leaving a plethora of bruises and marks across the tender flesh.

“What if I miss?” I ask, anxiety poking through, mind locked on how he stopped last time.

“I won’t stop this time. You’ve more than made up for the shot you missed earlier.” I sigh in relief. Forcing my arms back up, I try to steady myself before Leon’s fingers find my clit and I squeal, completely losing my aim due to the tight circles he’s rubbing. “Take the shot, baby.”

I fire, bullet catching the edge of the bullseye and I feel a swell of pride before Leon presses a deep thrust accompanied by a swirl on my clit, and his name spills from my lips as a plea.

“Please come for me, please.”

“Tell you what, if you get a bullseye, then I’ll cream this little pussy, how’s that sound, baby?” The pace of his fingers doesn’t change, and I can really only nod, mind barely able to remember why we were in here in the first place.

Taking aim. Deep breath. Squeeze.

The bullet lands dead in the middle of the red target. I practically drop the gun from my fingers, relief overtaking my senses.

“Atta girl,” Leon groans, pressing my frame onto the counter as he picks up speed to a fast pace, leaning down to crowd against me. My fingers reach up behind me, bent at the elbows, to cling to his hair that grazes against my temple as my eyes squeeze shut. His name is a broken sound coming from my lips as the coil in my gut tightens with each twirl of his fingers and each pass of his tip against my sweet spot. “Open your eyes when you come for me, rookie.”

Most of his words are just a jumble as the coil snaps and a scream rips from my already sore throat, but I can make out a ‘good girl’ and ‘creaming my cock so good, gorgeous’ here and there through the haze of my orgasm. It takes a few more thrusts before Leon groans and curses, lips pressed to my spine as he spills himself inside my still-spasming hole.

It takes a few moments for us to move again, deep breaths the only audible sound in the silent room. He’s the first to move (him and his damn stamina), sitting up to stand before slowly pulling his length out, watching as his seed trickles out slowly and groaning at the sight. Leon reaches down, pulling my panties back up and adjusting them into place tenderly, mindful of the soreness he had no doubt was blooming. With a small tug and some slight wobbling on my end, Leon helps me into a standing position facing him now, small of my back barely resting against the edge of the counter as his hands hold me steady.

“You alright?” He asks, and I giggle and smile in response, leaning my face forward into his shoulder. He chuckles to himself, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I mean it, you okay?”

“Mhm. I’m good. You owe me dinner though.”

“Of course, need me to carry you?” I nod through a wave of sleepiness.

“Wait,” I say, hands on his chest as he looks at me, blue eyes shining with concern. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, shyness returning full force, and he laughs again. In favor of answering, he leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. His lips are dry, as evidence of our exertion. We pull back from the kiss with dumb smiles decorating our faces, and he pulls my skirt down to cover my panties, planting another quick kiss on my mouth.

“So where do you want to go to eat?”

I step out into the hallway, flat shoes making far less noise than my usual heels. Leon looks at me expectantly.

“So?” I skip up to him, lips finding his as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Pulling back, I shoot him a smile before speaking.

“Guess who just passed her firearm recertification with flying colors?” I tease.

“Nice! See? I told you, cakewalk.”

Tags: @house-of-kolchek

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

2K notes · View notes

btsugarush · 1 year

Text

GANGSTA | myg - 002

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni

word count: 3K

author’s note: sorry if you asked to be on the taglist and didn’t make it. i’ve reached over 50 and couldn’t add anymore people. i’ll add more of you in the comments.

“I’m glad you’re okay after all of that,” Jungkook says on the other end of your phone; you had just spilled about the chaotic situation at Makoto as it was still weighing heavily on your mind. You couldn’t shake what Jimin had said about that Yoongi guy killing someone, though it could have just been a rumor. If he had actually taken someone’s life there would be no way they would allow him to walk the streets. He’d be too much of a flight risk.

“You should really be careful in the future. I know you like to stand up for people that can’t stand up for themselves, but Yoongi is bad news. There’s no telling what he would’ve done to you on the wrong day.”

“So you know him too?” You quiz. It seemed as though everyone knew who this guy was besides you. Maybe you don’t get out enough. Or maybe you were just good at staying away from trouble– until this afternoon at least. “I know of him, but not personally. He came to the shop once like five months ago with the same tall guy you were talking about. He told my coworker Si-Woo to step outside, and the next thing you know he's pistol-whipping him nearly to death. Rumor around the shop was that Si-Woo sold drugs for Yoongi, and owed him a lot of money.”

“Really?” Your mouth drops in shock. “What did Si-Woo say about it?”

“He never talked about it, ended up quitting the next day, and told us ‘not to get the police involved because it wouldn’t be of any help and it was all just a misunderstanding’.” He quoted. “Well, three days later Si-Woo’s body was found hacked to pieces and stuffed in a suitcase behind an alley on Gongdan lane.”

You heard about that case on the news some time ago, but had no clue that Jungkook knew the victim on an intimate level. It honestly made you shiver a bit. Imagine being the one to discover the body, and how gruesome the sight must have been. Stuff like that was common in slum areas though. Crime was especially high in Gongdan lane of all places, which is why you made sure to never venture in that area. “You think Yoongi had something to do with his murder?”

Jungkook scoffed. “The guy was viciously pistol-whipping him three days before his body was identified. I know he had something to do with it, but none of us were willing to risk going to the cops, so we just moved on like it didn’t happen.” Jungkook pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “You know… sometimes I think that maybe we could’ve saved his life if we did report the incident. Sometimes I still look at his station and feel like he’s there, tattooing.” He sighs heavily, like it was a great weight lifted from his shoulders to even tell you.

“You did what you felt was necessary. As fucked up as it may seem, you had to think about what was best for you.” You try your best to comfort him as he seemed to hold on to a lot of guilt regarding Si-Woo’s death, and reminiscing didn’t help. To have the man who could have potentially murdered your friend roaming free to terrorize all of Daegu couldn’t be a great feeling. You felt for him.

“I know. It’s just fucked to know he went through such a fucked up death. I don’t even want to imagine how scared he must’ve been,” you could hear clanking on the other end, as though he was biting down on his lip piercing. “I don’t even like the thought of knowing you tangled with them. He seems the type to hold grudges, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d lose my shit and go after him myself.”

You smile softly. “And I just know you’d kick his ass, my tough Kookie.” You both laugh at the nickname, which is one of many you had with the word ‘cookie’ in it. You could be so cheesy sometimes, but Jungkook loved everything about it. “You don’t have to worry though, apparently he likes me so maybe I’m in the clear?” You say unsuringly, still not understanding what he meant by it. It was very abrupt and cryptic. “Well whatever he meant, he’s out of luck because you’re spoken for.”

“As if he’d ever had a chance to begin with, I don’t think I’d mesh well with a criminal,” You chuckled. “I’m more into sweet, sensitive guys with tattoos and piercings.”

“Yeah? I think I know someone like that.” You could tell that he’s cheesing on the other end, which made you cheese. Everything always felt so natural with Jungkook. Him being your best friend in high school really played hand in hand with that. He was no different from a lover than he was a best friend. You two were absolutely the same and you loved it.

“You should probably get some sleep now, Angel. You don’t want to go to work exhausted, and I don’t wanna be blamed for you oversleeping again.” You simply roll your eyes in a playful manner, but agree nonetheless. You couldn’t chance being up so late, Mr. Kim was very strict about being on time.

“I guess you’re right,” you pout. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I get off work.”

“Okay, Angel. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kookie cake.” You pull your phone from your ear, ending the call before you get up from your bed to switch off your bedroom lights. You crawl back onto the mattress, pulling your blanket over your body. Picking your phone back up again, you swipe through your apps until you locate the clock app. You set your alarm to wake you up at 12:00 PM on the dot. Just as you were about to place your phone down on your nightstand, something overcame you and you got the urge to search Yoongi’s name on Google.

When you type in his name, you are shocked to see so many results come up effortlessly. Several different mugshots from several different instances, all dating from when he was a teenager to one that seemed recent. You click on the one that looks most recent, letting it redirect you to the Daegu booking website.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 30

BOOKING DETAIL

Status: Released

Building: Public Safety Building

Area: Maledorm

Booking number: 575857

Booking date: 3/26/2023 11:56:00 pm

ARRESTS

Arrest number: 680071205

Arrest date: 3/26/2023 10:06:00 pm

Arresting agency: Daegu Police Department

Agency case number: 25-18056

ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON

ATTEMPTED FIRST-DEGREE MURDER

POSSESSION WITH INTENT TO SELL

You read over the arrests in shock, completely dumbfounded by how a man of his caliber could be released from jail and not behind bars rotting for the rest of his life. He practically lived in jail anyway, why not just keep him there? You eye his mugshot, his intense stare giving you the chills. You didn’t need to wonder how the officer taking the photo must’ve felt considering you too have felt those daggers looking into the depths of your soul.

You pull your sight away from the photo, swiping away the page. You didn’t want to spend any more time on Yoongi. What happened at Makoto is behind you now. You just wanted to forget about the situation, and never run into Yoongi– or Joon for that matter, again. You plug your phone to your charger, sitting the device on your nightstand before you drift off to sleep.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” Mr. Kim looks surprised as you step into the kitchen, taking an apron from the hook on the wall. “Why wouldn’t I show up?” You quirk a brow, tying the black fabric around your waist. “Because I thought you would’ve been too scared to show your face after going toe to toe with the devil’s minions the other day.”

You click your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t believe people were still on that. Just as you walked in you overheard a customer whispering ‘she’s still alive?’ to her friend. It’s absurd at this point. “I think everyone is blowing what happened yesterday way out of proportion.” You shake your head, grabbing a notepad and pen from the pencil holder.

“I’d like to say we are, kid, but you got lucky. That Yoongi is no joke to be played with. The guy is a menace. Some people say the only reason he’s not in jail is because he has affiliations within the police unit, and I wouldn’t doubt if it’s true. Our system is corrupt.” The older man sighs. ‘Oh great, here he goes with politics and corruption again…’ you thought. You had better get out on the floor before you’re caught in a whirlwind of it.

You leave him to discuss the topic with himself as you step out onto the floor, and start taking customer orders. “Hey, you’re that crazy girl from yesterday.” A man says as you approach his table. You frown, already knowing what he was referring to, so you avoid it at all cost. “What can I get you?” You redirect the conversation.

“Oh! Uhhh,” he picks up the menu from his table, skimming through it. “I’ll have the Jajangmyeon.” He answers quickly. You scribble down his order. “Anything to drink?” You ask. “Ginseng tea, thank you.” He places the menu back on the table. You nod, taking down his drink. “Okay, I’ll be right back with that tea.” You smile kindly before heading back to the kitchen. You rip the orders from the notepad, clipping them to the ticket holder.

“Hey, kid. We’ve got a delivery order for dumplings.” Mr. Kim informs you as you’re preparing tea for the customer. The older gentleman approaches you, the order already made and secured in a brown bag. You take the bag from him, looking at the order ticket attached to it.

As you read over the address on the ticket, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. ‘2357 Gongdan Lane’. “Um… Mr. Kim, this location is in the slums of Daegu.” You look at him with concern. “I know.” The man simply nods, taking the tickets you set from the holder. “Yeah, well, I can’t go to Gongdan lane. It’s dangerous, especially for me as a woman.”

“Look kid, I’m sorry. If Jimin was here I’d have him go but he doesn’t work on Saturdays and you’re my only worker.”

“Exactly. I’m the only worker, you need me to be at the shop taking orders.” You knew that wasn’t going to go over as it was a slow day, and there were hardly any customers in the shop to begin with. “I can handle the customers and cook the ramen until you get back.”

You couldn’t believe this. Just as you had prided yourself in never stepping foot in Gongdan, here was this old dirty bastard making you go. On top of that, the restaurant didn’t even own a company car for deliveries so you had to ride a bike. You read over the ticket again, noticing that there wasn’t even a name on the order. “There’s no name on the order, this could be a trick that ends with me getting robbed for free food.”

“All this time wasted on talking about it could be used on getting the delivery done. Stop complaining and do what you’re paid to do. The faster you get it done, the faster you can come back.”

You wanted to stomp your foot like a child and continue to protest, but you couldn’t risk your job by not listening so you did the only sensible thing you could do. Your job. You grab a plastic bag, shoving the brown one inside of it before leaving through the back exit in the kitchen. You spot the red delivery bike lying on the ground, and pick it up, looping the plastic bag around the bike handle.

As you mount the bicycle, you pull out your phone to use your GPS. The ride was about 12 minutes away. If you ride fast you could undoubtedly make it at least an 8 minute ride. You kick back the breaks and set off on your journey. During the ride as you make it into the slum area, you could truly see the separation from Sangsu-dong to Gongdan lane. The sidewalks were cracked and unpaved, the buildings looked more rundown, and homeless people laid out in sleeping bags.

You got an uneasy feeling as you noticed a group of men smoking weed on a corner and intensely watching you go by. You probably stood out like a sore thumb, riding through Daegu’s slummiest on a red bike. You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes forward as you paid them no mind. As you continue going, you notice the streets become more isolated. Your GPS directs you to turn, which you follow only to come upon a big warehouse that looked abandoned. ‘You’ve arrived’, your GPS says. You furrow your brows, confusion written over your face.

“Stupid thing must’ve sent me to the wrong location.” You grab the bag of dumplings from the bike handle, circling around the warehouse just in case you were mistaken. You find a door on the other end, cameras surrounding it like it was a government building. You inspect the door, seeing that there was a red button of some sort on it.

You scope the perimeter, making sure no one was trying to sneak attack you. The whole thing seemed completely sketchy. You take a deep breath before pressing down on the button, a loud buzz coming from it. You take a step back, waiting for someone to come open the door. You stood there for about two minutes, not wanting to wait around any longer. You knew this was a scam. You should’ve just gone home and pretended like you delivered the food. It would’ve saved you the trouble. As you turn to walk back to the bike, the door suddenly opens with a loud creaking sound.

You direct your attention back to the door, locking eyes with an individual that you dreaded to ever see again. “Oh my god… i-it’s you…” you stutter in shock, seeing Yoongi stand in the doorway with a smirk plastered on his face. “Wonder Woman, we meet again.”

You’re silent, not really saying a word as you feel too stunned to speak. “You got something for me, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to the bag in your hand. You snap from your fearful trance, remembering why you were there in the first place. “Uh… yeah. Here’s your order.” You stretch out your arm to hand him the bag, not wanting to come any closer. The raven reaches forward, his hand brushing yours as he takes the bag from you. You quickly turn away, rushing back over to your bike.

“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday.” He says, following behind you. “I already know who you are.” You mumble as you mount the red two wheeler. “Really? You didn’t seem to know who I was yesterday. If you did, you wouldn’t have shot your pretty mouth off like that,”

He grabs the handles of your bike, preventing you from leaving. “You look scared. Guess my reputation precedes me.” He says almost too proudly. “Not in a way that a decent human being should want it to, but I guess decency isn’t what you’re aiming for.” you say slickly, which causes the raven to smile. “There goes that smart mouth again,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, giving you the same predatory stare from yesterday. “Normally I wouldn’t tolerate anyone getting slick at the mouth with me, but from you it’s kind of a turn on.”

You scowl, ignoring his sexual advance. “Can you let go of my bike? I need to get back to work.”

“How about you let me drive you?” he offers, but you quickly decline. You’d be an idiot to get in the car with a proclaimed murderer. “I’ll take my chances on the bike, thank you.” The raven lets go of the handles, taking a step back to allow you to be on your way. “Be my guest, sweetheart.”

You kick back the break, not wanting to waste any more of your time in Gongdan speaking to this thug. You back away from him, turning the bike to ride down the path you came. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.” He calls out. You come to an abrupt stop, looking back at the raven. How did he know your name? “I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You didn’t need to. I have my sources and connections, Princess. Whatever I need or want, I get.”

You cringe at the nickname ‘princess’. Jungkook doesn’t even call you that, with all the cheesy nicknames he does use. Him knowing your name suddenly made you question how coincidental this whole encounter was. You were starting to wonder how much about you he knew. As if he read your mind, he starts to read you like an autobiography. “You were born in Busan and raised right here in Daegu, you’re an ex nursing student, an only child, both your parents passed away in a tragic car accident, your best friend is Sang Mina, and your boyfriend is… Jeon Jungkook? Am I right?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as he spoke information that only people close to you would know. You felt sick, creeped out even, but you tried not to display that on your face. “So, I guess you know my work schedule then. You set this little encounter up knowing that I was the only worker today, didn’t you?” the raven simply shrugged like he couldn’t answer whether that was true or not, but you knew that it was. “I don’t know what your deal is, but just stay away from me, okay?”

Yoongi sneered, as he turned on his heels, heading back to the door from once he came. The raven makes sure he gets the last word though.

“I can’t make you any promises, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever I want, I get.”

Taglist

@l0stindigo @minyoongimylove @mamidescarada @slutforleeminho @bubbles2300 @rosquilleta @justletmehavethenamemarsomfg @pineappleburger @secfir @mytokkiboyfriend @zeelalalalala @kenpachisimp @snoozeagustd @borahaerhy @officialholyagua @kooslilhoe @agustdsslutt @wittyreader @moonchild-qaads @littlestarstinyseven @jojowantstocry @whipwhoops @multiasf @mxshikoo @passionandsuga @justdancehoba @kooksbunnnn @primadonnasdream @ashslytheringoddess @yoongislatinagff @itzz-me-duh @roguesthetic @captaincarmel416 @strxwbloody @catchmybreath94 @yunkissis @miamorcitovante @daniarafid @junisage @cynicalbitch666 @junslay @be0mluver @minvu @bibsluvsjk @shycreationdreamland @l2ovesick @ejaeee @jiminssmallpinkyy @bangtan4everr @wobblewobble822

2K notes · View notes

gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go.

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure.

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in.

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them.

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured.

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff.

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation.

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so.

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife.

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #leon kennedy #afab reader #gigabyte writes #there's no escape

1K notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 11 months

Note

so excited for next raider joel i am literally foaming at the mouth

Company

2.2k / dark raider!joel x dark!f!reader x ofc

raider master

gif by @serenaxpedro

“I’ll do it,” you say, unsure what that even means. Joel looks surprised and impressed. “You’ll do it, then,” he repeats quietly.

Skip ahead to Raider: Close if you're not into the warnings.

WARNINGS: Striking through extra detailed spoilery warnings but wanna be thorough. These don't all happen to reader. Angst, jealousy, dark reader!, FFM threesome kind of, oral m & f receiving, spanking/pussy slapping, noncon gunplay/penetration, unsafe P in V sex (not btwn Joel and OFC), dubcon via captivity, degradation, cum eating, threat of/allusions to cheating kind of. joel makes reader noncon ofc, f on f oral PLUS stuff already in play like being chained up.

A/N: Ask 1, Ask 2. TBH I had trouble getting on board with the idea of adding another girl, but eventually a twisted version i could live with came together in my head. Still, I bet some people will not like it. Please don't read if you could be triggered or upset. 🧡 I did not describe the OFC, so please HC her however makes you happy.

When Joel gets back, his arms are the first thing you notice. He’s wearing a body holster with a pistol over his mesh tank top. The body holster makes his shoulder muscles look even more imposing. The second thing you notice is that he’s not alone. He’s dragging another girl by her elbow. She looks like she’s been crying, but she’s not now. She’s angry. Joel doesn’t look at you when he comes in. He slams the door behind him and hangs up his gun. He throws her down on the other bed, then cages her with his body. He holds her chin and and says, “Don’t fuckin’ move.” She spits in his face.

He takes a deep breath and cracks his neck without his hands. ”Been nothin’ but nice to ya,” he says. “That ends now.”

Shamefully, your first thought is, what does he mean by ‘nice to her’? Was he the same as he is with you? Did he save her from a worse fate? Did he stroke her cheek and tell her it was going to be alright? Did tell her he was going to take her with him, protect her from far worse men? How many times has he done this? You hate to think you might not be special.

Joel unbuttons his pants and looks at the girl menacingly. “Coulda made this enjoyable for ya,” he says regretfully. “Too bad.”

Your stomach turns and your heart pounds. Is this all because you kissed him? Is he punishing you for your affection? It’s not fair. He’s the one who kissed you first in the middle of the night. Your eyes sting with tears. You can’t sit here and let this happen.

“What are you doing?” you cry.

“What am I doing?” he laughs. He pauses without unzipping his pants. Finally, he looks at you as he palms himself. Your eyes follow his hand and you’re relieved to see he’s not fully hard yet.

“Don’t,” you plead. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

He unzips his tight jeans and takes his semi-hard cock out. He asks you, “Where should I put it?” with his pelvis still pointed toward the other bed.

“Do you have to put it anywhere?” you whimper. The girl looks at you hopefully like you really have a say. Like you might be trying to help her.

“Do I have to,” he grumbles. You run through the options in your head. He could put it in her mouth, that’s not too bad. A mouth is just a mouth, right? There’s no way she would do a good job on purpose. But hopefully she wouldn’t bite him, either.

Joel approaches you and spits in his hand. As he begins to stroke himself with the spit, you say, “Let me.” He holds his cock for you and you try to suck him as good as you can, but he just wants the saliva. He won’t let you make him come. Your eyes well up.

“Shhhh,” he says and cups your cheek as he takes his cock away. He sighs, then nods back toward the rest of the stash house. “You think they want just any girl? They want what’s mine.” He glances over at the girl then back at you. He lowers his voice. “She could save your life.” As sweet as that is, it doesn’t make you feel much better about him putting his cock in another woman.

“Do you really have to?” you plead.

“Where do you want me to put it?” he asks again.

“In me,” you beg. He studies your face.

He looks up at the ceiling contemplatively. “Well either I’m doin’ it, or you’re doin’ it,” he offers.

“I’ll do it,” you say, unsure what that even means. You just know it has to be better than watching or hearing him fuck another girl. If you have to finger her or even give her head, so be it.

Joel looks surprised and impressed. “You’ll do it, then,” he repeats quietly. He unchains you from the radiator and takes the pistol out of his body holster. He holds it by the barrel and hands it to you.

Your face goes cold.

“No,” the girl whimpers, sitting in the corner of the cot with her knees hugged into her chest.

“You heard her,” Joel says. “She’s doin’ it. Right, sweet pea?”

Your hand shakes as you grip the gun. Joel motions for you to go to the other bed.

“You’re sick,” the girl whimpers at Joel. “Shoot him!” she demands of you. “What are you waiting for?? SHOOT HIM!”

Instead, you stand at the end of the cot. “Get back here,” you say weakly, gun still shaking in your hand. “And turn over.”

She shakes her head. You cock the gun.

“Damn,” Joel whispers. She still doesn’t move. She cries.

Joel loses patience and grabs her by the thighs, jerking her to the end of the bed. He pulls her dress up over her ass, clenches his jaw, and spanks her. Then he stands between you and the bed. He spits on his fingers and turns to face you. He keeps his knuckles facing you as he reaches back and slaps her pussy without looking at her. She yelps. He keeps his hand there and rubs her clit while he stares at you with his hard dick in his other hand.

“Go on,” he tells you. “You can do it, sweet pea.”

“You’re both sick,” she whimpers.

You steady the gun in both hands, avoiding the trigger, and bring the muzzle to her wet cunt. She shrieks at the cold ring of metal. Then you grab her hip for leverage and use your dominant hand to carefully push the barrel into her, gently maneuvering it so it doesn’t catch. She groans “No.”

Joel strokes your cheek and looks at you affectionately. Then he gets behind you, with both of you facing the bed. He puts his hands on your hips and presses his hard-on into your dress.

“Go on,” Joel urges and his cock hardens as he pushes it against you.

You begin to slide the gun in and out of her.

Joel brings his mouth to your head. “Good girl,” he whispers and puts his large hands on your hips. He raises your dress, exposing your ass. He pulls down your panties, then puts a hand on the small of your back. You spread your feet more, so relieved and grateful he’s not fucking the other girl. He flattens his fingers and rubs your clit until you’re wet enough. It doesn’t take long.

You’ve slowed down with the pistol, focusing more on the feeling of his hand between your legs. Joel pauses. “Don’t stop,” Joel cautions. “Or I’ll do it myself, and not with the gun.” You start again. He notches the head of his cock at your entrance and waits. You begin railing her steadily with the barrel of the gun. “Good, sweet pea,” he murmurs.

He pushes his tip inside you and you gasp at the stretch, temporarily pausing the rhythm of the gun. Then he puts one hand on your pelvis for leverage and holds a breast with the other. He slams his cock into you, jolting you up and forward, with the momentum slamming the gun harshly into her cunt. She whimpers.

“Sorry,” you whisper to her and try to steady your hand as Joel fucks you. But the last thing you would do is ask him to stop or ease up.

Joel drives his length into you steadily. Your face tenses and your temples feel weak. You’re still jealous and your mind drifts to whether he’s looking at you or the other girl. Or is he just watching you fuck her with his gun. You know he’s an awful man. Face it, it turns him on.

You put it out of your mind and focus on the feeling of being filled by him. His fingers pressing into your skin as his cock impales you, strong but gentle, like him. You can’t help but moan as he fills you up with his flesh. His cock completes you just right. You need him to be all yours.

He switches hands, using his other hand for leverage as he cups your opposite breast. He buries his mouth in your neck and that makes you feel better, your brow softens. He bites you and it feels close enough to a kiss that your heart swells. He sucks your skin, and he moans at the feeling of your nipple hardening into the palm of his hand. He massages your breast and you begin to twitch around his cock. He moans into your neck.

“Sweet pea,” he murmurs. “You feel so good.” Your heart flutters at his words and your lower abdomen buzzes with warmth. “Whore like that could never. No one else could.” With that validation, you fuck her harder with the gun. “That’s it, baby,” Joel whispers, slamming his cruel cock into you. “Just like that.” Your arm gets tired and you switch hands. It’s so tempting to put down the gun, but you don’t want to find out whether he’d really fuck her. You don’t want to disappoint him either, and you don’t want him to stop fucking you.

Joel’s hands slither around your body, and his cock pounds into you harder. “You’re doin’ great, pretty girl.” You feel yourself on the edge of climax. He slams into you with a grunt. “This pussy’s all mine,” he pants. “gonna stay that way.” You lean back into his chest and enjoy the feeling of his body wrapped around yours while you’re wrapped around his cock. He begins to stroke your clit and you moan. He breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust.

He pulls out before either of you come. You sigh at the loss but his fingers gather slick from your dripping cunt then return to your clit and he outdoes himself. He puts his mouth to your ear. “Go ‘head, baby,” and his low whisper makes you see stars.

You moan and tremble and fall into her, plunging the gun deeper.

“Pretty when ya come,” he murmurs and rubs your back while you finish. Then he grabs your ass affectionately and steps to your side; You flinch, your ass is even more sore today.

He slowly pumps his cock and kneels onto the cot with one knee. He takes your hand and makes you take the gun out. She collapses onto the dirty mattress.

“What’d I do wrong?” you ask him.

“You did great, sweet pea. You did perfect,” he says as he gets up on the cot and it creaks under his full weight.

She tries to squirm away and he stops her with a hand on her ass. He’s facing her side and looking at you as he pumps himself. He straddles one of her legs and you whimper. He points his cock at her pussy, then he looks at you again as he strokes himself and comes on her ass. It trickles down her crack to her cunt. You don’t want his cum between her legs, it tugs at your tear ducts, but you’re comforted by his eye contact with you when he came.

He gets off the cot, tucks his dick away, then comfortingly squeezes your shoulder and watches you watch his cum trickle down. “You want it so bad, take it,” he says. He crosses his arms and nods toward her.

It feels like a command. You reach out your hand.

“Nuh-uh. With your mouth, sweet pea.”

You obediently bend at the hips and lean over the cot. Joel pries her legs open for you. You plant your mouth between her legs and lick from her cunt, while trying to strain your eyes to meet Joel’s for approval. “Yeah, get it all, baby.” You drag your tongue up her crack.

You swallow it and he holds out his arms for you. He helps you down from the cot and takes you back over to yours. “You’re gonna stay here for a li’l bit, sweet pea. Keep her company.”

You sniffle. “Do I have to?”

“Yeah, baby. I’ll come back for you later.” He kisses you on the head and makes sure you’re comfortable before he chains you back.

After Joel leaves, you and the other girl are both silent for a while. Then she tries to get through to you, tries to convince you that the two of you can outsmart him together. When pleading doesn’t work, she tries tough love. “I get it,” she says. “You think he cares about you. But he doesn’t. You think he’s faithful to you, just because he owns you.”

“He does care.”

“Well I don’t see your name on his chest. And his dick sure didn’t taste faithful today.”

Any sympathy you had for her evaporates with those words. Even if she’s lying, even if she’s trying to play you.

“Pathetic,” she scoffs. “You don’t even want to be free, do you?”

You’re silent for a minute, then get an idea. “You’re right, I don’t. But if you really want to, I can tell you how.”

You know the guard won’t stay at the door all night. You know the best time and route to get out of the house. If she gets away, good for her. If she gets caught by one of Joel’s men, oh well.

Thank you so, so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys. You will have your man to yourself next time.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @/lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst

if i've left you off please DM me. You can also follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications and you can follow @toxicrecs for my fic recs

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @zliteraturehoe @neobanguniverse @quietlyignoringyou

#joel miller x reader #dark!Joel Miller #possessive!joel miller #joel miller smut #raider!Joel Miller #joel miller/you #toxicanonymity ☠️#tw: dubcon #raider!joel #raider!joel miller

861 notes · View notes

marikosenwrites · 3 months

Text

📓✧˖°.bungo stray dogs smut scenarios and hcs

sen: my first smut fic lmao idk what and how i do but i'm gonna TRY MY BEST feed back is VERY MUCH appreciated i originally planned to do purely fic no hcs but i decided against that ^v^ tell me if you want the word count because i'm unsure if i should put it or not

characters: ada!dazai osamu, edogawa ranpo, chuuya nakahara

warnings: smut, mdni, im still putting ooc here, binding, biting (i'm still thinking tell me if smth needs to be added), rough sex (?), oral sex, use of y/n

(starts under the cut!)

‧₊˚⋅📃✎ᝰ..𖥔 ݁ dazai osamu

୨୧ loves binding you with random things that are flexible near him, like a tie or his bandages and things like that

୨୧ dazai just tangles his hand in your hair and like weaves through the strands and he doesn't want to pull his hand out so just pulls your hair and stuff

୨୧ if you ask him to be gentle, he compiles immediately and starts slowing down his relentless thrusts

୨୧ likes preparing you first (using his skilled fingers)

୨୧ when you're all wet he just invites himself

୨୧ pm!dazai would have done gunplay occasionally

scenario:

"bella- shit, you feel so, so, good, baby, yeah- god," dazai moans, his pace not slowing down, but becoming faster, which was what you hadn't expected.

a few whimpers and moans escape your lips, turning the taller on more, "'s-'samu, s-shit, slow down," you whimper some more as dazai hoists a leg on to his shoulder, allowing him to reach deeper places into your hole.

you scream, only to be stopped by two fingers going into your mouth. "shush, bella, yosano-san will find out. you certainly don't want that, do you?"

you shook your head in response, tears rapidly flowing down and reaching the crumpled sheets. although you cried, it was because of both the pain and the pleasure that your boyfriend was giving you.

"osamu..." you mumble as he slowed down his pace to an actually bearable one. "you're too harsh on me."

"oh? is that so?" he grinned and started to fasten his pace once again. "hmm?"

"o-osamu-! fuck-" as your pretty mewing and moans reached his ears, he grabbed a string of bandage on the nightstand next to you and tied your hands with it. "-osamu?"

"mm, you look more delightful than ever like this, bella." the man smirked.

"shall the show officially begin, now?"

‧₊˚⋅📃✎ᝰ..𖥔 ݁ edogawa ranpo

୨୧ into foodplay is the first thing i'll say

୨୧ loves sucking on tits too (literally his favorite thing to do what am i on about)

୨୧ loves sex after a tired day at work (like MINOURA or new people insulting him and stuff) (by insulting i mean saying that he isn't a good enough detective)

୨୧ sex between the both of you always starts with a make out session and then (and then) BOOM you strip and the good part starts

୨୧ he is a lazy bottom for real but when he's mad/frustrated oh boy you bouta see some stars

୨୧ loves when you top him

scenario:

quite a while had passed since you were bouncing on his on his cock, your moans and his combining into a harmony that was unique on the world, and only happens once a week or so.

ranpo had come home from a bad day, a frustrating one. you had always tended to his needs when it came to to tired days. and the same applies for you.

"mm...you look so nice bouncing like that f'me, sugar," the raven-head grins as he aids you with his hand.

you moan prettily, as you say, "ranpo- ngh-"

his moans get louder as he goes closer to reaching his peak. a while more after, you come with him closely following you in the motion. "well, sugar," his chest heaves up and down. "did you enjoy it?"

"m-mhm," you nod, unable to speak too much.

"well," he flips you around, now him on top of you as he puts the lollipop he was sucking in your mouth.

"let's begin round two."

‧₊˚⋅📃✎ᝰ..𖥔 ݁ nakahara chuuya

୨୧ not into gunplay, just because he's in the mafia, doesn't mean he has to be into gunplay right?

୨୧ is really soft with you once you warm up and stuff

୨୧ doesn't really have kinks

୨୧ had this one time he used his ability to pin you down

୨୧ active bottom? maybe. likes being in control more, though

୨୧ loves giving oral

scenario:

"doll, y/n, you're taking me so good, fuck-" chuuya groans in pleasure as your throat contracts and takes his length fully.

"ngh-" you couldn't really speak, considering...his dick was down your whole throat.

the red-head threw his head back as his eyes shut close, all while waves of pleasure overwhelmed his whole body and took over him.

your gaze went up, and observed chuuya. it was as if he had no more self-restraint at all. his gloved hand was tangled in your h/c hair, as he subconsciously massaged your scalp.

your groans met chuuya's sensitive ears and the sounds only turn him on more.

"sweetheart- ngh, fuck, s'good-" he felt some weird feeling gather at the bottom at his spine. was it his orgasm coming? perhaps. but in that moment, nothing mattered. in this world, you are his only pillar. you are his life. you are his everything.

one last moan and he came in your mouth, and less than a few seconds later, you also came. he pulled out as he watched his cum drip from his tip, and you swallowing the bodily fluid your hot session had produced.

"you were so good, doll." chuuya tenderly wiped a few beads of sweat off your forehead.

"i-" you swallowed your saliva, "it felt...good. maybe we should try again some other time, chuu."

"'s that so?" he smiled.

"we should end the night here. we're tired, after all."

©all banners, dividers, and stories are made by marikosenwrites and the pictures in it are from pinterest. i own none of the bungo stray dogs/bungou stray dogs/文豪ストレイドッグス characters mentioned here. all rights reserved, please do not steal.

mdni banner taken from @cafekitsune! (their work is much appreciated)

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #bsd smut #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #mdni #sen's works #i learnt gradient text

324 notes · View notes

call-sign-shark · 5 months

Text

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Running from your past doesn’t work anymore now that you’ve been directly involved in the Vendetta. Between violence, threats and schemes, you understand that you will only retrieve your peaceful haven with Arthur if you get out of this war with blood under your nails. featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 7.5k

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, SMUT +18, hint at gunplay, cockwarming, piv, non-protected , obsessive love, extreme co-dependent relationship. They are sincerely deranged, sorry about that. No proofreading, we die like men.

Notes:

✞ This is the last quiet chapter of Act II, shit will start to get real in the next part. Also, the smut is just a part of the chapter, not the entire thing.

✞ This is chapter 14 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The crackling symphony of burning wood whispered to the stillness, each pop and hiss forming the melody of a sorrowful farewell to John Shelby. Amidst the flickering glow you emerged, your white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around your shoulders to the small of your back. The firelight waltzed upon your features, bringing up the mesmerizing interplay of diamond dust and frost that composed you.

How many more?

The question flashed in your thoughts, leaving a trail of caustic soda that scorched your skull from the inside. How many more of your loved ones should you see burn, their flesh eaten by a voracious fire, until God decided He had enough fun tormenting you? Two faint dimples appeared on your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, the cold winter wind blowing at the black veils of your long and seductive black dress that floated elegantly behind you like the sinister drapes of the Reaper's cloak. In utter silence, Arthur lowkey shifted his focus from the vardo to you with concern and, taking notice of the destructive sparkle in your eyes, pulled you closer. The sensation might have been comforting but your body didn’t answer to his affection, remaining limp and disconnected. To be completely honest, you were feeling so physically and emotionally cold that you would have believed you were made of frost if his coat, which was resting over your shoulders, and his comforting hand, that was on your lower back, weren't there to offer you a bit of warmth.

As the scent of Arthur's reassuring cologne kept you anchored to reality, you finally woke up from your gluey negativity and instinctively nestled against your husband, who placed a discreet and tender kiss on the corner of your lips. The familiar ticking of his facial hairs on your skin sent a wave of comfort through your soul and reminded you that, despite everything that had been going on between the two of you lately, he had been, still was, and will always be your only saving grace. You wondered if, maybe, it was time for you to go back home. Not that his betrayal had been forgotten or forgiven, but you needed him more than ever. For a shit ton of reasons.

“You’re frozen, angel. You sure you wanna stay hm?” He whispered, the tender gravel in his voice clearing your morbid contemplation of the burning vardo, which brought to your mind the sickening memories of your mother and little sister burning at the stake. A long exhale escaped from your fleshy lips as you tried to keep the demons of your past on a leash — and ignore a sudden wave of nausea.

“I’m not going anywhere. If John is burning I might as well freeze.” Your reply was a bit blunter than intended, but Arthur got it. The way you watched the flames climb higher and higher left no doubt about the devastating anger raging inside. They will pay, you silently swore to John, convinced he could hear you from where he was. If bringing him back was out of your abilities, at least you could avenge him by bringing upon every single man who plotted his death a demise worse than death. Just like Thomas Shelby, they would soon know how much pain you could inflict with your tiny and delicate hands, the holiness of your appearance being nothing more than a facade to mask the methodical killer you were. To hell with the promise of not killing again, having blood on your hands seemed to be the price to pay for Arthur and his love. While you lost yourself in the meanders of your thoughts, the cacophonic detonations of gunshots roared in the quiet meadow.

You had barely heard them when, with movements nimble and quick, you pushed Arthur to the ground and stood still to protect him in a reflex you couldn’t fight. The booming sounds might have been loud, they didn’t made you flinch. Quite the contrary, your aquamarine eyes stared at the horizon in search of the slightest threat, just in case the shots fired hadn’t come from the Gold. For a very short while you had been the only one standing, all the Shelby clan on the ground with hands covering their head. Even Tommy, who had schemed the attack, played the safety card and remained covered just the time to make sure the shootings came from their side.

"For fuck's sake, Heaven." Arthur barked at you as he stood up on his long legs, ignoring Tommy in the background who was keeping everyone under his control by yelling. The lanky gangster's hand grabbed your fragile wrist firmly and pulled you closer to him again, steel blue eyes glowing with disapproval at your reckless behavior.

"That was Thomas’ plan right?” You simply replied, your reliable source of information being Aberama and Bonnie themselves -- it was a part of the many perks of living with them in the nearby woods.

“Come on, Angel! A plan ain't going to be always working ay. It could have been the Ital—“ The oldest Shelby brother, with his thick brows furrowed, could not finish his sentence for you hushed him by cupping his face with your freezing little hands. Falling silent, the wolf turned into a lamb as you gently pressed his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

"Chéri." You started, the pink tip of your tongue moistening your enchanting lips. Each of your movements seemed to bewitch him, to the extent that he almost forgot why he had been that irked, the inferno of his rage instantly cooling down, "I am fine see?” Despite the softness of your voice, he could sense a bit of impatience in your steady tone. Without leaving any time for questions or protests, you laid a small kiss on his cold lips, "We are fine." The melody of your voice was merely a whisper that vanished in the howling wind when your winter lips met his a second time for a deeper kiss. Soft and glossy flesh against rough one. A wild storm of happiness coursed through Arthur at the sensation of this long-awaited mark of affection tingling on his skin, and electrifying his heart. A rapture so strong that the world blurred around him for a moment — he would have probably slipped his tongue in your mouth if the moment wasn't inappropriate. When you pulled back from him, your lips curled in a faint but sincere smile before you squished his scruffy cheeks and released his face from your cold grip. After three years together, it was only at this very moment that Arthur understood that he wasn’t the true guardian and fellow protector of the couple. You were.

Fiercer. Crazier. And certainly far more dangerous.

"Put us out there on purpose... To use John's funeral fire as a fucking beacon!" Aunt Polly's outraged and trembling voice erupted from behind, her words stabbing Tommy like red-hot daggers. If they hurt, he didn’t let it show though. Forced to part from you before his brother and aunt went for each other’s throat, Arthur intervened.

"We were never in any danger, Polly."

"You set a trap. You set a trap with us as fucking bait." She blurted out, standing from her chair and walking to Tommy with steps so furious you were pretty sure she was going to plow into him. Indignation was radiating off her, her dark eyes wishing they had the power to kill. If it had been the case little King Shelby would have been already lying in a pool of his own blood, "Who's dead?!"

After his younger brother had tried to explain to the old harpy that the victims were two Italians, Arthur went on, "We got word to them about the funeral, the where, the when… Told them where to stand for the best shot."

"And Aberama Gold will do the rest." Tommy completed his brother's sentence as if he was an extension of himself — which was the case, you reckoned, when he wasn't busy criticizing you for breathing. From then, the voices only escalated, trying to overcome one another and win the argument by screaming louder than the other until someone eventually gave up. Which was a miracle that would never happen since we were talking about Tommy and Polly. Both of them were two equally stubborn mutts fighting for the same bone and how this argument ended had been predictable: The fierce aunt left, Hell shaking under her heels.

Now was the perfect opportunity to talk.

"Arthur," Your divine voice hailing him, resounding in the meadow like a haunting siren’s song, its unsettling melody sending shivers down Ada's spine. She glanced at you and, for a quick second, the memory of you covered with blood flashed in her mind. Years had passed since you murdered Father’s Hughes accomplice with a pair of scissors but she still couldn't forget what happened back then. She wouldn’t admit it but her trust in you had never been the same from this moment.

Snatched from his thoughts, Arthur turned around, frowning. The family argument had soured his mood.

"Hm?"

"Now I wanna leave." You stated, your seraphic tone as sharp as the razor blades in your man’s cap. This hostility wasn’t aimed at him though, but at Tommy for you had pronounced these four words while glaring at him, indescribable hatred burning in your frozen iris. You might have been aware of the plan, it didn’t mean you agreed with it: the idea of using John’s funeral still infuriated you but your mourning soul hadn’t the strength to fight it. "I'm going home.” Arthur's heart missed a beat, afraid of seeing you disappear again in the depths of the woods. It had been one hell of a harsh week without you and while he — hardly — understood that you needed space, his patience was growing thin, worn out by jealousy and overwhelming dependence. After all, if Aberama was a thief, why wouldn’t he steal his most precious treasure? Or worse, he’s son. Younger, healthier and so much more handsome than him, he thought with gritted teeth and hateful eyes.

"Oh yeah? " Coming closer, Arthur tried his best not to let his murderous jealousy talk and, instead, took a long black key from the pocket of his dark duffle coat "Home ain't with the Gold. Home's—"

"57 Watery Lane. I go there, lock the door and wait for my husband. S'that what you wanted to say?" You suggested, one eyebrow raised and your pale eyes staring at him like two fathomless and cursed jewels. Arthur swallowed nervously, the intense eye contact feeling like an eternity. Besides immediate regrets, the reason for his silence was that he was convinced he messed up again, judging by your sudden cold demeanor. So, afraid you’d lash out at him for his sudden jealousy, all he did was nod and try to keep his composure in front of everyone to pretend he was the one in charge. But you knew him too well not to recognize the sadness in his beautiful but vacant steel-blue eyes. You knew exactly what was going on in his head: he was expecting you to reject him in front of everyone, just like Linda used to do. “Alright” You articulated, and yet your reaction was the strict opposite of what he thought you’d do. Bringing your hand to his, you gave it a gentle squeeze before taking the key, "That’s the home I was talking about, love." You added, your glossy lips curling in a faint but oh-so-reassuring smile that made him swoon with indescribable fascination. Punctuating your sentence with a little wink, you finally turned your heels and left the meadow, your walk as elegant and confident as a fearsome lioness coming back from the hunt.

A predatory and frightful confidence that disappeared as soon as you reached your house. You had barely heard the sound of the door closing when, sick in the stomach, you rushed to the toilets and dropped on your knees to throw up.

"Fuck..." The curse escaped from your trembling lips as you quickly wiped them with a towel, tears beading at the corner of your aquamarine eyes. Polly was right: you did know when to pick your moment. As strong as you were, you had trouble coping with the news of your unexpected pregnancy. So much trouble that you couldn’t rejoice and that lack of enthusiasm only added a layer of guilt to your restless mind. “Fuck!” You snarled, teeth bared. Fuck you, them, all, and everything.

The sound of your platform boots' sharp heels echoed in the sanitized corridors of the hospital as you headed towards Michael's bedroom, your hips elegantly swinging to the rhythm of the silent savage drums of your heart. Tommy had called another lengthy and boring meeting to discuss both the Shelby Company Limited's new installments and the Vendetta, and as well as you dreaded his presence you had to be a part of it now that you were a Shelby. Moreover, the whole mess got even more problematic since Luca Changretta had managed to find a way to break into the Shelby factory and directly talk to his turquoise-eyed opponent for the sole pleasure of seeing a sparkle of panic in his eyes when he threatened to kill the rest of his family.

Surprising as it may sound considering your deep resentment for Tommy's long speeches and the man himself, you arrived pretty early. Not for him, but for Polly Gray. By coming earlier, you knew you'd have a bit of time to talk privately with her about the baby, for she had been the one discovering your secret pregnancy. “Hey Pol’!" You cheered, a wicker basket filled with pastries dangling at your wrist, "I've brought some croissants and éclairs. Thought it could help put up with today's meeting." The bright smile you bore soon vanished from your plumped lips when your winter eyes met with the dark silhouette of your brother-in-law, standing in front of you with his calloused hands in his pockets and his cold gaze staring at your angelic complexions with an unfathomable look. Turning into ice again, your small hand immediately reached for the door handle.

"Stay. We have to talk." He stated, his tone cool and composed. As much as he wanted his sentence not to sound like an order, he ultimately failed. As he talked, all the muscles in your body tense and you felt already irked by his presence.

"Don't." You snarled, your crystalline eyes squinting when they shot him a lethal glare, "Don't fucking come any closer." The sour and threatening expression on your face had been enough to stop Tommy. He was now clenching his perfectly carved jaw. Admittedly, he had never particularly cared about your personal space, invading it on every occasion he could just to push you to your limits and make you feel cornered, but since he had a taste of the ghastly and inhumane gift you had he'd rather be cautious.

"Alright," He said, pinching the bridge of his nose before rolling his eyes and moistening his lips in a surprisingly effusive pout. "No need to be that aggressive eh. Please have a sit." He instructed then, indicating a chair with a brief gesture of the hand.

"I ain't gonna sit. Polly tricked me.” You gritted through your teeth, spiteful at the thought of her betrayal. Your voice echoed through the room like sharp shards of frost falling from a winter sky. "You both knew that I didn't want to be left alone in a room with you anymore and still you schemed this twisted little plan." The cadence of your speech, though measured, carried an Arctic chill that made Tommy shiver. Even with the short distance that separated you, he could almost feel the ice you were made of burning his skin through the many layers of his expensive three-piece suit. In fact, you might be calm but Tommy could still feel the rumble of the storm hidden in that soft and enchanting lilt of yours.

"No one tricked you, and yes, indeed, I knew it. That's why Polly will be here with us. She's coming in any minute. Feel better now? Can you fucking sit?" Your only reply was a mocking snort that was quick to stir anger in Tommy's heart despite the placid expression etched on his face. But no matter how fine and cold the marble he was carved from was, you could see the tumultuous current beneath it. Maybe that was one of the main reasons why he hated you: no matter how hard he tried, you always managed to get under his skin and make him falter.

Silent fell in the hospital room, the two of you staring stonily at each other as you both attempted to decipher the opponent's intentions. "Seriously," Tommy was the first to move, coming nearer despite your warning — part of him did it only to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid of you. As he approached, your sharp sense heard the faint sound of his heart beating slightly quicker than usual and his breath struggling to keep quiet. Closer he came, until he stood only inches away from you, the warmth of his body brushing your skin without even touching it, and the musky scents of his cologne ticking your nostrils. " I meant it you know ay. I meant it when I said we have to end this war between us," You remained motionless, eyes staring at him, "Shut the door on it". In the hushed ambiance of the bedroom, he started to move around you with a gait that mirrored the stealthy elegance of a beast navigating its territory. His steps were a silent predatory waltz, a calculated and deliberate one that could have been dizzying if he wasn't walking around you this slowly, "At least temporarily." The air seemed to ripple with a subtle tension as he circled you like a panther, hiding his fear of you behind an aura of primal confidence, "I'm sure we could both benefit from it, ain't that the truth." You slowly exhaled as he talked, realizing you've been holding your breath for a while.

"What about backing off me and shutting your mouth until Polly comes?" You whispered, your aquamarine eyes carefully following every step he took. Admittedly, there was an undeniable magnetism in the way he moved, almost too smoothly and captivating to be human. In a primal reflex, your lips curled and you showed your pearly teeth. Beneath the shared expanse of your untamed wilderness, a silent battle waged within, as his large and strong hand delicately found rest upon your arm. The skin-to-skin contact sent an unpleasant thrill through your body. Tommy was like a big cat facing another one, testing the waters and carefully studying the line he shouldn't cross for you to snap. All in all, it was a contest whose goal was not to be the first to shy away. His fingers ghosted over your arms, trailing down your skin with an unsettling tenderness. Unwilling to cause another scandal or murder him, you gathered all your willpower not to react even when he leaned above you, looking down at your seraphic traits with curiosity gleaming in his turquoise eyes, "How did it feel when we kissed?" His words, like tempestuous whispers, stirred a sudden symphony of panic and indignation within. "Because you've... Felt."

"I did." You finally admitted, tearing through the silence you've been walling yourself in. All the ice melted in a few seconds, and your face relaxed a little bit. Two hopeful details that ignited both Tommy's gaze and ego -- of course you did, he thought.

"Look at me." His voice turned a bit softer as you slowly raised your gaze to his face.

"Do you really need me to say it out loud, Tom?" As you inched dangerously closer to him, he heard the ambient sounds of the crowded hospital fade into a distant murmur

"I do." The drumming of his heart fastened as a faint smile toyed on your lips. The proximity of your mouth, bewitchingly close yet not quite touching, was killing him. Let alone the brush of your skin under his fingertips and the shared warmth of your breaths mingling in the same intimate airspace. How beautiful you would be together. How fierce. How... Unstoppable. That was all he could think of.

"Disgust." It fell from your mouth with the softness of a chainsaw blade cutting through his guts. Tommy's eyes widened, his ego crashing on the ground and shattering like a broken mirror. He didn't react at first, confused by your harsh words, which contrasted with your angelic smile, "I felt disgusted." You tilted your head to the side, your face turning into winter again, "Now you better move from the way if you don’t want me to crush your lungs."

Tommy was about to back off in terror when he saw you moving your fingers in that peculiar way he was too familiar with.

"Sorry for being late." Polly's voice erupted in the room, saving you from spending another minute alone with Tommy. God blessed her.

"Let me help you with that." He finally said, trying his best to keep his composure at the realization that he would never be able to predict you. Never be able to control nor to own you. His fingers closed on the basket’s handle, right above your reddened wrist, and they lifted it to relieve your frail arm from the pain before he quickly stepped away from you.

"Alright, glad to see the two of you didn't butcher each other in my absence. What a wonderful improvement."

"An improvement that is." Tommy replied, pressing his palms against the table now that he had put the basket on its wooden surface.

" I was talking with the doctor about Michael's health. We have a very short time left: he's almost done with him, and both Ada and Lizzie are coming. Heaven, dear, what about Arthur?" Polly inquired, her black eyes meeting yours.

"He's still in his office at the Shelby factory. But I must admit I thought that it would be only you and me." You stated resentfully.

"I know, love and I'm sorry about it but you wouldn't have come if I told you that Tommy was here." Her cold and sly hand gently squeezed your arm in a gentle gesture, so soft and full of motherly love that you couldn't really blame her anymore. Taking a quick look at the clock on the wall, you sighed and took place on a chair just like Polly did.

"Hurry up. Tell me what's about."

"Ain't going to keep you waiting,” Tom started and went straight to the point, motivated by the desire to see you leave this room as soon as possible, “ I want you to meet Luca Changretta."

"Thomas!" You exclaimed.

"No. You listen to me now," The gangster replied, pointing at you with his index finger, "As you know I've encountered him in the meeting room of the Shelby Company factory. We came to an agreement that stipulates that women and children shouldn't be included in the Vendetta. With that, we can guarantee a certain safety for you, Polly, Ada, Finn, and the kids."

"How... Quaint." You stated, pursing your lips in a bratty pout, "And what's the link between your deal and me potentially meeting the man who wants to see my husband dead?"

"Considering this, one of the women of this family can approach him. The idea was that Polly could meet with him and ask him to spare the family, especially Michael. In return, she would lure me into a specific place and at a specific time so that this bastard can set an ambush and kill me." As Tommy explained the original plan, you side-eyed Polly who nodded at each sentence in an attempt to reassure you.

"The problem is Luca knows the strong bond I have with my nephews. Even if I use the role of the mother ready to do everything to save her son, I fear it won't be enough to convince him. But you..." She left her sentence hanging, Tommy's raspy voice completing it. Shelbys, you swore. Sometimes you wondered if they had some telepathic shit going on between them.

"You despise me as much as Luca does but still bore the name Shelby. You'd be perfect." His gaze almost burnt you.

"Makes sense." You replied, fingers playing nervously with your dress' fabric under the table as you swallowed all the information just heard. Against all odds, his idea was impressively clever — Tommy might have a plethora of flaws but stupidity wasn’t one of them.

"Polly will help you arrange a meeting with him in a club. You talk with him, explain how you do this to save your husband, and if he asks more questions proceed with talking about our relationship." Now that they had finished revealing their plan, Tommy and his aunt were both staring at you, impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Well, I've heard enough." You simply said, getting up from your chair and making your way to the bedroom's door under the two pairs of confused eyes. Once you reached it, you grabbed the handle and watched them from above your shoulder, an amused but sharp grin dancing on your lips. "When Apocalypse comes, it seems like even Thomas Shelby wants the Devil on his team." You teased, entertained by the situation. No matter his neutral demeanor, he needed you. And that was a satisfying feeling. "That's fine with me." Your quick agreement was certainly not something Tommy and Polly expected, judging by the way they looked at you, and then at each other to make sure they heard well. But as illogical as it seemed, the reasons behind your will to get involved in the Vendetta were a matter of course: You were sick of playing the nice and fragile wife who nervously waited for her husband. You didn't come all the way back to Birmingham to be a quiet and patient little thing. You came to make them all shatter and shake at your fingertips. All you wished was to protect your man and show the world that they better fear Arthur Shelby's wife as much as him if it isn't more.

Polly followed on your heels when you opened the door, grabbing your arm and leading you outside.

"The hell you're doing?" You inquired, surprised by her sudden strength.

"One last thing. I need you to keep Arthur busy and to make him come too late for the meeting." The fierce aunt's grip closed a bit firmer around your wrist, making you wince.

"Why that ay? He has every right to attend it. He's the vice president deputy of that company as well as the oldest brother." If there was one thing Polly expected, it was you defending your husband tooth and nail. And yet she had many tricks in her sleeve.

"We don't want him to pull the trigger anymore. It's time for him to delegate and stay out of the battlefield. We didn't climb the social ladder this high to keep dirtying our hands."

Polly's speech made you blink, astonished one could scheme behind a family member's back. "Hey, that's freaking unfair for Art. You have to discuss the matter with him, it's his job we're talking. Ouch!" You whimpered when she squeezed you harder, her eyes begging you to listen.

"Think about the baby! It will need its father! We don't want him in danger any longer so please, please keep him busy just like we, women, know how to do. It's the modern approach, White Devil."

"Modern approach. Of course.”

"Oh, Angel." Arthur said, his gravel voice underlined with a light surprise when he saw you entering his office. He was putting on his long black coat, ready to leave for the family meeting. As soon as his piercing blue eyes landed on your delicate frame he walked towards you, "Why you here? You alright? " He immediately inquired, his protective nature had grown far bigger since you'd joined him in this cursed city. The soft glow of affection shone in your eyes as you looked at him, your glossy and plump lips greeting him with a bestowed smile so sweet and radiant with love that the hurricane of worries in Arthur's skull hushed down.

"Everything's alright!" You hung your coat on a hook.

"Ain't it good news, ay." He cheered despite being in a hurry, before putting his large and rough hands on your forearms with an adorable bluntness so specific to him and rubbing them to warm your skin up, "Well look, lovely to see you but I'm late for a meeting."

"Just five minutes." You asked, coming closer until your breasts flattened against his chest, "Five teeny-tiny minutes, please?" The way your eyebrows raised and your mouth pouted enlightened your angelic face with an irresistible bratty look that never failed to get him on his knees. Arthur quickly moistened his lips while weighing the pros and cons, but it didn't take long for him to make up his mind. Especially when gazing upon that woman-child face of yours.

"Alright, alright." His raspy voice blurted out. Arthur brought his fingers in your hair to slip one of your long white locks behind your ear with an indescribable tenderness. "Needy little thing already missed her husband eh?" He cooed with amusement, his strict facial traits melting as he talked to you, tamed by your presence.

"I did.” You purred with a quick but oh-so-sincere smile, “But I also need to talk to you. Sit, please?” You suggested, the amusement of your tone brightening up his dull day. Joining motion to speech, you gently pushed him back with your two index fingers pressed on his chest. Arthur followed your movements, a bewitched smirk etched on his mouth. Just like your own reflection, each time you took a step forth he took one back until the back of his knees bumped against the desk chair. Enthralled and with lust-dilated pupils, his eyes spoke a love that transcended words. Arthur’s body finally dropped on the chair, and if he was already focused on nothing else but you, the whole universe faded into utter insignificance when you sat on his lap, straddling him. The contact between your two hips ignited a vivid desire within, which spread through his bones like wildfire and got a satisfied “hum” from him.

“What it is ye want to say?” Arthur asked, the hoarseness of his voice carrying a softness no one suspected him to hide. Despite everything you’ve been through lately, including the indescribable disappointment due to his drug relapse, you had allowed your relationship to slowly heal. You had been crystal clear, now the ball was in his court. Arthur was obviously still on trial, well aware that he needed to outperform himself to gain your precious trust back but at least you came home right after John’s funeral, and that was all that mattered.

A very short but comfortable silence floated over the room at his question, your reply taking the form of your fingers losing themselves in his slicked-back hair, massaging his head.

“Are you really in a rush?” Your voice, a delicate dance of enchantment and teasing, wove through the air and left Arthur even more captivated than he already was while you relished on every little adorable of his face — his myriad freckles were surely one of your favorite features of him. Finally, a long exhale escaped from your nostrils. How much you would have loved to stay locked up here with him forever, just you, him, and the baby, far away from this cruel world… “Peu importe ce qui se passe tu sais que je serai toujours à tes côtés, n'est-ce pas?” (translation: No matter what happens you know I'll always stand by your side, don't you?)

"I know." He replied in English. The sensation of your fingertips applying the perfect pressure on his head combined with your haunting French got him definitely wrapped around your finger. The lanky gangster was at the very edge of purring, his eyes half-closed and his piercing and intoxicated iris looking at you through his dark lashes.

As he enjoyed your massage, Arthur made the most of your proximity and let his palms wander on your dainty body, unable to keep them off you. In truth, it was nearly impossible for him not to become all handsy when you were around, no matter the where and the when. His rough hands roamed all over your being, invading every part of you. He was everywhere, softly kneading your small breasts, then trailing down your ribs to finally end his exploration on your hips he seized more firmly, almost bruising them in the process “I must say ya one hell of a cruel witch, love. You come here all hot and bratty.” He cooed, the gravel in his voice rumbling. It was so low, so powerful that it didn’t even sound like a voice but a feeling. His peculiar tone was an inextinguishable fire that enveloped your body, scorched your core, and wrapped your tired mind in a comforting haze. “Makes me feel bad to leave without taking care of ya like a good husband would do, right here on me desk…” You replied with an adorable giggle and Arthur slightly bucked his hips to press himself more against you, just for the sole pleasure of feeling his body colliding with yours. It’s not enough, he thought. It was never enough. There was always too much fabric, too much space, too much of everything between you except when he was buried deep inside of your core, both of you making one as you were meant to be. Another wave of excitement coursed through you, and you had to fight against the irresistible haze he stirred within. Delicate as a feather, you put your two tiny hands on his cheeks and raised his face for your eyes to meet — flaring steel sinking in lethal frost. “But tell me, what's that important hm?”

“First you have to promise me to stay calm. Will you?” You asked, batting your eyelashes like an untamable child about to tell her dad she had just destroyed the expensive family vase. The kind of look that drove Arthur crazy. Sometimes he still found himself astounded by how your face could go from terrifyingly cold to adorably childish. Saying that your words didn’t awaken a bit of worry inside of him would be a lie, but one sole glace at your angelic traits was enough to keep his rage leashed.

“Gonna try me best for ya, hm.” His dark blue irises were enraptured by the movements of your lips each time you spoke — your words were blurring, and his attention was turning into obsession: He missed you. Body, heart, and soul. “Hev…” He sighed in delight as your small hands abandoned his face to strip him from his vest, unbutton his shirt, and then paw at his chest.

“You won’t interrupt?” You mused, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and mouthing against his warm skin. Your thumbs were now tracing circles on his chest, smoothing his hairs.

“Told ya, angel. Your Arthur will try to be a good boy.”

“Well… I went to the hospital to keep company to Polly. I thought we would discuss trivial things but then she asked me to keep you busy.” You finally admitted, “She and Thomas wanted you to miss today’s meeting.” As painful words melt with the delightful sensations of your caresses, the sky in Arthur’s eyes darkened with black and stormy clouds. His body stiffened under yours.

“What the fuck that’s s’posed to mean?” He growled, anger already boiling in his veins like a dangerous geyser about to burst. Fortunately enough, your calming presence helped him contain his violent temper — such was your almost supernatural effect on him. Different and yet so similar, Arthur Shelby was made of destructive fire that burnt the people around him as much as him. And yet, his fire never really intended to hurt: quite the contrary, it sought to stay warm and inviting, like a low fire dancing in a hearth. When it blazed out of control, even he couldn't prevent the damage done. You, on the other hand, were made of water. Just like a dangerously cold ocean, you were terrifying, infinite, and relentless, your calm prone to silent but always deadly tempests. “Why the fuck would they do that?!” He cursed louder this time. Feeling your man’s temper wearing thin, you gave a gentle lick on his neck to snatch his attention from his corrosive emotions. Your flat tongue trailed up his sharp jaw to his earlobe — the wet and hot caress on his skin sent thrills of arousal all over him and allowed his mind to focus on something more pleasant than this cruel betrayal.

“Because they want you to stop pulling the trigger.” You explained as quietly as you could, gently rubbing your cheek against his like a cat looking for both affection and attention. It seemed to do the trick: his face was still distorted with latent rage, the thick vein in his temple pumping, but at least he wasn’t turning the office over with his fists nor was he yelling so, overall, it was still a win. “Modern approach they call it.” You added, using Polly's exact words to the difference that you peppered his lips with small pecs, talking between each pair of smooches to make the pill easier to swallow, “You become a general and Aberama takes care of Changretta… That’s their plan.”

Breathing loudly through his nose, the gangster pressed his lips together until they formed a very thin line, “Modern approach ay?” Anger coiled like a snake amids the hurricane of his resentment, its hiss echoing through Arthur’s skull. “They just wanna take me job away.” He stated, more for himself than anyone else, still digesting the news. “And they want to use ya against me? Bloody pricks.” Overpowered by an immense feeling of injustice, Arthur didn’t realize that he was digging his fingers in your thighs a bit more painfully than intended, but his roughness only fanned the flames of your own wickedness. Your skillful fingers explored him, nails brushing his ribs, then palms caressing his slim abs as if seeking to defuse the ticking bomb he was.

“I wanted to tell you everything because nothing in this fucking world will make me stand against you... I may agree with the idea of keeping you safe from harm but not at the expense of your trust.” You confessed, finally pulling your face from his neck and wrapping him in a relieving hug with your frail arms. If he hadn’t kept his eyes open, he would have sworn that it wasn’t your arms that were surrounding him but two soft and protective feathery wings. His rough hands, which hadn't moved, spread your thighs further to feel your warmth through the thin fabric of your lace thong. Fireworks exploded in you at the hard bulge that was pressing between your legs, making you bite your fleshy lip. Arthur finally let out a long sigh and shook his head, wanting the only thing that could wash away the rage that was eating him up — one of his hands left your flesh only for his fingers to slip between your parted thighs and shift your undergarment to the side.

"C'm'here," He ordered, his breathing increasingly louder and faster.

"Love, you should really go to this meeting." You advised, shivering at the feeling of his long fingers fondling your slit.

"To hell with their meeting, they don't even want me here eh. Need ye right now." With skillful movements, he unzipped his fly and lowered his trousers just enough to free his half-hardened cock and slid it between your sensitive folds, the pleasure and anticipation crashing against you like a rogue wave against the shore. "I feel me bloody mind drift again... And I know I'mma butcher someone if yer lovely lil' cunt doesn't keep me warm." The ghost of a little smirk danced on his lips, mustache lifting on the right side of his mouth when he noticed that his words had the effect he wished for: More of your wetness trickled along his shaft and you had started to grind against him, low key moaning. “I don't fucking know what I'll do without ya..." Without waiting another minute, the gangster lined up with your begging entrance and slowly pushed his swollen tip inside.

"Yes, f-fuck them." You sighed, your nails digging into his back and your legs quivering at the overwhelming feeling of him stretching you. Usually, Arthur wasn't the patient kind and, as it was the case at this very moment, all he wanted to slam his far-too-big cock in you in one forceful thrust to have you whimper and wiggle above him, and yet, he wished to keep it languid for now. It wasn't a rough fuck he wanted, at least for now, but sexual and emotional comfort. The first sweet fantasy that plagued his mind wasn't to cum, but rather to enjoy the blissful and addictive sensation of his thick length opening your throbbing walls inch by inch and filling you entirely.

"There, I know ye can take it all." He gently bumped your cheek with his nose while his smirk turned into a sharp-toothed grin pitching half between the remnant of his anger and satisfaction.

“S’too big…” You stuttered, eyes shut and the telltale of a blush painting across your doll face. With toes curling in your high heels and your arms around his neck, you rolled your eyes in the back of your head as he pushed further. It never seemed to end, and yet it always ended up fitting despite your size difference.

“Bloody Hell, how are ya so tight after years of me ruining ya?" His words were spoken with animal growls — The truth was he had always loved the fact you were too small for him in every sense of the term. Despite the pain, a frail whimper escaped from your mouth, soon accompanied by your legs naturally parting more, instinctively submitting to him and his needs. With a meaner thrust, Arthur had no other choice but to force the way one last time to fill you completely, and when it was finally done, he let out a loud moan at the way your tight walls hugged him. "Shh, shh, that's okay." His strong hands seized your hips stronger to keep you from wiggling and pulling them back in reflex, "A good girl ye are hmm?" You nodded. It was only when his length hit your deepest spot that Arthur stopped, buried inside of you, hard and unmoving, your bodies entirely connected. Another whine escaped from your mouth, a little protesting sound that drove him mad with lust and almost made him forget that his initial desire was just to keep you sitting nice and quiet on his cock. “C’mon love, t’wasnt that hard. Ye should be used to it.” The only reply he got was you rolling your hips to adjust to his size for a comfortable cockwarming session — the most effective thing you had found to tame his wicked tantrums or his adrenaline-fueled passions. The first time had been hell for him, who seemed to be unable not to pound you once he penetrated you — and yet he had learned to love every little thing of it: The intimacy, the constant but manageable pleasure, the cock-drunk and appeased look on your face…

"Missed you, Art'...'" You breathed and hummed, barely rolling your hips but still slightly moving on his cock to enjoy it massaging your velvety walls, "Aren't you angry anymore?" You asked a bit too sheepishly to be true, laying a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Nah, not anymore 'cause yer a nice angel for your husband,” He grabbed your ass firmly, long fingers adorned with cold rings spreading on your cheeks to have a wider grip “Making him find peace between your legs ay?” The stretch had become comfortable by now, and you were both fully enjoying each other, him completely high by your warmth and wetness. “Making him pray God with your holy pussy.”

“God…” You sighed, throwing your head back, feeling perfectly full — maybe a bit too much even though pain blurred with exquisite ecstasy. “B-But think about it, Arthur. What about letting Aberama do the job? We would stay locked up in the house and do nothing but fuck until the whole Vendetta is over and we go back home?” You suggested, flush burning your porcelain cheeks and giving them a rosy color. The melody of your words — along with how good he felt deep inside of you —snatched a low moan from him. Yet, as much as he yearned for your offer, his conscience needed blood.

“Got no choice, love.” His two hands left your body shortly to grab each side of your lace dress and take it out, throwing the garment somewhere in his office to have you exposed and vulnerable while he was still fully dressed. Once naked, he cupped your small breasts and started kneading them with blunt caresses that made you squeal: you were already sensitive due to your hidden pregnancy. “John wants me to do it.”

"Fuck!" You cursed when he moved along with you, your hips dancing together and intensifying the burning arousal that was saturating your senses. Soon, splitting you open and having you moaning on his cock wasn't enough anymore. His arms suddenly wrapped you possessively, pulling your two bodies even closer. So close the cold gold of his cross necklace on your skin sent thrills of pleasure down your spine. "He wouldn't want you to risk your life."

“It was me who shot the old man.” Arthur’s mouth, eager to find yours, crashed against your lips in a kiss so passionate that it took your breath away. One of them rough hands stroked your back in an overwhelming cocktail of caresses and scratches, waltzing on every inch of your skin while the other pinched one of your nipples. A second kiss captured your mouth, his tongue making its way into your parted lips to seek yours, not minding the thin trickle of saliva at the corner of them. “John is dead because of me,” He breathed between two savage kisses, “And I’m gonna make it right.” His voice was merely a low whisper combined with ragged breaths and low, gravelly moans.

"S'that was you want?" You managed to ask, losing your fingers in his hair and your mind in a fog of carnal delight. Forehead pressed against forehead, you reopened your frozen eyes and dived into his, words becoming more and more useless as a tornado of raw emotions and sincerity swirled in the blue of his iris: His need to avenge John was visceral and you understood that his mind wouldn't be able to find rest if he couldn't kill Luca Changretta, hence putting an end to the vicious cycle of vengeance. And you definitely hadn't the heart to deny him this unhealthy yet efficient way of exorcising both his guilt and his baby brother's death. “So be it.” You finally granted, endless love shining in your eyes. After all, if there was something you could understand it was vengeance. Torturing and butchering five men didn’t bring your family back, but the pleasure of watching life slipping away from them had nonetheless helped you put up with that excruciating wound, "But when you’ll kill that bastard put two bullets through his head. One for you, and one for me.” You concluded, shifting your body slightly to take the gun that was on his desk before wrapping his neck with your two arms again. And then the mask of the lamb fell, shattering on the ground and revealing the wolf you were. A wolf that was smiling and moaning, its thumb softly caressing the weapon’s metal.

"I'll do that, little one." A smile beamed on his face as you allowed him to carry on his personal vendetta — or as he felt the sensation of the gun resting against his back, his joy finding a delicious echo in his body. The circular movements of his hips turned into deep and full-length thrusts that had you throwing your head back and chanting his name.

“Mr. Shelby! “

“I’m fookin’ busy!” Arthur’s booming voice roared in the office as he slammed the door right at the man’s face. The access to the room might have been forbidden to him, but the cacophony of savage fucking and the noise of the office’s blinds being shaken left no doubt on what was happening. He finally gave up, well aware that nothing would make his boss come. It was only when he told him that two intruders had been spotted in the factory that Arthur stormed out of the room, disheveled, shirt quickly buttoned u,p and with a hammer in one hand. A bloodbath was coming and since nothing could be done to prevent it, Ben went back to work and tried to ignore the upcoming mess. With a bit of luck, they would manage to put down the rabid beast Arthur Shelby was. Soon after his departure, the white-haired girl left, snuggled up in her white fur coat and walking as elegantly as always, even if she was slightly staggering on her heels after what the gangster did to her.

“Poor girl.” Barney — another worker recently hired — stated, glancing at you as you passed by. “She’s nice. Y’know she brings us treats and pastries sometimes… What a shame that young lady had been forced to elope with this bastard.”

“Poor girl?” Ben replied to his colleague, almost choking. “Forced wedding? You’re really new here, mate. Can’t believe the doll blinded you. Something’s off with her. And forced wedding… All you have to do is pay attention to the way they look at each other and then you’ll understand. And it will frighten you.”

“Ya really talking about sweet lamb Heaven?”

Ben scoffed, “A lamb… When your eyes meet Heaven Shelby’s nobody can’t tell if she wanna braid your hair or eat your heart. Lamb she’s not. Don’t get fooled by the dresses and heels, she’s not playing doll. She only makes violence look better.”

Barney became silent at his friend’s sordid statement, the far away sound of Arthur yelling, bones breaking and agonizing screams resounded in the depths of the factory along with the machines’ roars. Amidst the smells of hot metal, sweat, and paint, lingered the spring-like fragrances of your perfume, which confused him even more.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

#Arthur Shelby #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby smut #Arthur Shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #John Shelby #Polly Gray

268 notes · View notes

essenteez · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 || c h o i s a n 1 8 +

"Fucking her was an ambrosia for his sick ego, a feast for all his demons."

"Say I'm a god." The man demanded, threat hanging in his tone like his all existence depended on it. You looked at him, overwhelmed by the unbearable teasing he kept sending upon you with his two digits deep inside you. "Say it."

🔪 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : Known to the underworld as Reaper, San wouldn't let a change to play god to slide. If the money was good, he'd made sure the job was done. Elimination of a top level politician wasn't groundbreaking but the job #76 was different – really special, having San’s inner demons to thrive. Who would've known the woman he had been fucking for months was a wife of the man he was assigned to kill?

🔪 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : San x fem!reader

🔪 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut, action, criminal, psychological

🔪 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : m*rder, blo*d, explicit language, gunplay, knife play, cutting, blo*d tasting, oral (both receiving), choking, double fingering (f!receiving), edging, overstimulation, tying down, mdom, pet names, slut/whore calling, face riding (m!receiving), rough sex, mentions of breeding, mind games, m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t !!

🔪 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 11k

The sun began setting in vivid colors, painting the heavy cirrocumulus clouds bright red in the early autumn sky. No wonder the panorama had the whole city in awe. The view was indeed breathtaking, almost overwhelming, causing almost every pedestrian to stop and admire, then eventually eternalizing the scenery with their phone cameras.

However, there was one person that seemed to be completely immune to the capturing sights.

Not one of the passersby were paying attention to the ordinary looking man that occupied a little fragment of pavement aside, next to a small but busy cafe in the east part of Manhattan. He stood there, dressed in black from head to toe, with his back against the building's brick wall. One hand submerged in his pocket, the other rolled a half smoked cigarette between his slim fingers.

The man looked like everyone else on the street, irrelevant.

And that was what he intended.

Blending into the crowd and becoming completely invisible weren't much of an effort to him; one of only two lessons that Choi San actually appreciated being taught during his time spent in the military. The other one was of course how to obliterate his own humanity. Both those valuable lessons now allowed him to wipe his ass with money.

A pair of sharp eyes flashed with threatening unpleasantness from under the black cap that was hiding San’s face. The urge to silence two loud love birds across the street was colossal.

His jaw clenched, teeth gritting with annoyance. His neck veins popped from raising irritation with their obnoxious behavior as they were taking hundreds of basic pictures of each other in the incredible lighting.

He couldn't help but stroke the gunmetal, hidden deep in his pocket as the killer's instincts were heavily tempted.

Again he was forced to focus on gathering all the thoughts he had to prioritize. No suspicious movements should be made. He glared at a nearby skyscraper, basking in the blinding sun.

The bloody star burned more with every minute. To some, that display of nature was just a sign of colder weather the next day. Those more superstitious individuals were lowering the draws while cursing the red ball on the horizon, considering it an omen of the innocent blood being spilled tonight.

San couldn't care less of any of that; weather foreshadowing or some stupid beliefs. For him, today's light of the sunset was nothing but pure luck, its help in hiding the red dot sight, which would make his job ten times easier.

"Fucking clowns." He spat out, when squeaky excited voices of the couple echoed again between tall buildings, almost disturbing his state of concentration.

However, it was not enough to make his hawk-like vision not register a sudden, weak movement on the roof of the building before him.

A pleased smirk appeared on his dangerously handsome face, giving its sharp features all the cocky colors.

"Hello there."

Only an indistinct glimpse of one black figure grazed San’s eyes, but that was exactly what he had been waiting for.

Immediately his calculative mind showed him the whole map of that part of Manhattan, with the whole military security unit scattered on every roof and filling every hole and blind spot that could potentially cause danger.

His sight turned from an annoyingly over enthusiastic couple to the big round building that was located a few blocks away from his position.

The Conference Building Center.

Today, that building was a main focus of many eyes, also those watching from dark, hidden spots. The round impressive center was completely covered with glass, reflecting all the surroundings. Windows, another luck.

No matter the circumstances, San had never failed to hunt the target. Everything that the police knew was what he let them find. There was no possibility that Reaper would ever get caught. That was why in missions like that one, where media and government were involved, he had to be extra attentive, appreciating those lucky conditions.

His fox eyes observed every movement of journalists gathered before the main entrance of CBC. He recognized the last preparation they were making as cameras were turned on one after another and the presenters started fixing their clothes and microphones.

The fun had begun.

First, the snipers arriving on the roofs to secure the territory, then the slight chaos, unfolding among the media teams and just now the representative welcoming team set on their positions to greet the big fish. It was all simple signals that San's target was about to arrive at the spot of his final moments.

He took two last puffs before the cigarette ended up beneath his shoe. It was time to move.

San had already chosen and prepared his hide site a few days ago, right before the conference was announced to the public and the military did their own scan of the place.

Despite the spot being pretty far from the CBC, it was surely occupied by one of the military pawns. San however considered it as the best thing in that difficult situation; they never paid attention to the less significant places, putting all the pressure on “the eyes” right around the main scene.

San didn’t need to be as close as he could to the target. Having them in a straight line wasn’t necessary either. Only thing required in Reaper’s death ritual was to have the duck in sight.

The spot he picked was just one of the medium sized condominium buildings, part of the older city's architecture. The stairway couldn’t be openly secured by the military since people living there had to have a free and non stressful access to their apartments. Nevertheless, it had to be watched from another, unobstructive position. San had to eliminate every obstacle that could disrupt his mission.

Arriving at the location, he kneeled down to quickly untie his shoe and take his time while tying it back. His attention was caught by two men, laughing at each other in the alley, right beside a big green dumpster situated four meters away from the stairway. For a sight of a normal human being, they looked like a couple of friends, maybe neighbors that got outside for an evening talk and smoke.

But not for San.

He noticed their well hidden attentiveness to every move and noise, their dominating hand never leaving the area of the big coats’ pockets. There was no mistake, that job would harvest more victims.

A distant sound of multiple sirens went off, catching the attention of San and definitely every “eye”.

The target number 76 was about to arrive in the CBC.

Watching how suddenly those two men began to move closer to the main street and leave their positions, San couldn’t help but snort in disbelief at their recklessness.

"Morons.”

Duty and mission over curiosity – distraction had no right to win. But there they were, giving death an invitation.

Either they were not expecting any bad events to happen or HQ failed to see they hired two idiots to guard a top politician. That was San's chance to clear the path like a child's play. He was indeed lucky today.

Leaving his shoelaces, he crossed the street with a normal paced, peaceful jog, along with many other people, trying to cross it before a column of cars would block the pass.

Ordinarily San disappeared behind a building next to his hide spot and his two prey. Walking the block around, his eyes quickly made sure that his method of escape was on the spot. After getting through the alley, he peeked from a corner to see a view that he already knew would welcome him.

Everyone’s back turned to him, every face watched as a row of black shiny cars, carrying a whole unit of bodyguards and the main star of the evening, the Governor.

Despite standing in the back of the crowd, the two curious guardians tried to catch a glimpse of a beloved politician, not sensing their own doom unraveling behind their backs as a black figure was closing the distance between them.

The sirens were getting louder, drowning out every other noise of the city, as well as San’s decisive and heavy steps in the dark alley.

The stairway was left unsupervised, which let him slide inside with no problem. All he had to do now was wait. He wished he could eliminate the couple right there but unfortunately, there was an important procedure that San couldn’t walk around. He needed these two idiots alive for a longer minute.

He decided to use this time to dress appropriately for the job. Using the chaos outside, San leisurely climbed up the stairs. The hiding place behind an old electrical box was untouched, exactly how he left it. Pulling a backpack from behind it, he quickly dressed in its content.

Black cargo jacket replaced the long puffer coat he wore previously. His cap disappeared, revealing his sharp features and short black hair he wore the same since he left the military. Plastic protectors embraced his knees and elbows.

Before putting on the black gloves, San reached out for his phone to check the hour but an unread message caught his attention.

$$lut>> Mandarin Oriental, apartment 5, hope you'll be there around 6pm. Y/n.

Unconsciously he inhaled sharply, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. For a second his straight face gave in to a combination of sinister excitement and roguish mania, decorating his exquisite features.

There was no way he would miss that meeting with you. Not when it was the biggest reason why that mission was the most satisfying job he had ever been paid to do. Just the thought of it was making him tremble in sick excitement.

His 76th job was more than just a "kill and disappear" mission. It was a perfect chance for San's crooked nature to show itself with all the dark sides to it. A great opportunity to unleash all his demons at once and let them thrive all they desired.

The moment he got the target file, he couldn't believe his own eyes. It wasn't the governor title or getting involved in political fights that was the reason for San's disbelief.

What were the odds that he was paid to kill a man whose wife was the best cumdumbster he had ever had put his cock inside?

Having this information on his mind while going through weeks of preparation and scheming, his wild and unlimited imagination only added more fuel to the fire.

That was why it was the only time he had texted you first, asking to prepare the place of the meeting and sabotaging you into daydreaming about how desperate he was for your body.

San knew you wouldn't waste your husband's nearest absence to let your dirtiest secret fuck you again. Not after all those times he made you turn into a brainless slut with his skills. He knew you wanted more and more with every meeting, making you basically addicted to the sin.

Exactly, you wouldn't waste any opportunity. Therefore what was a better chance for proving again your unfaithfulness to your husband than him being away, busy speaking to the citizens about his political successes and goals?

As the car with the governor lined up with the building San was in, the loudest resonation of the sirens filled the whole street. The sirens in San’s mind went off as well, while picturing all the obscene things he was going to do to you right after making you a widow.

"The Governor arrived at the CBC." A high volume voice blowing from the radios snapped San from his ominous state that your message brought upon him.

He carefully leaned over the barriers to look down and see that the two imbycles came back on their positions. Everything was going along with his plan.

"Outside sectors first, check in!”

The command was directed at all the buildings the furthest from the main building, including San's hide spot.

He had no more time to waste. Stuffing the backpack with his previous outfit and accessories, he pushed it back behind the electrical box. With fast but quiet steps and his back to the wall, he began walking down the stairs, while putting a silencer on the gun with rolling movements.

He halted on the lowest mezzanine, standing on the last step with his legs slightly astride. The gun hung in his grip, free hand wrapping around his wrist. With his head high, he was waiting for the rest of things to go his way.

"Guardian Apollo, Olymp 5 secured. I don't see any suspicious movements. Over."

The blurry voice on the radio got to San's sensitive ears. Remembering the map and the amount of the sectors there can be, the report must've come from the sniper on the roof above his head.

Olymp certainly meant the upper positions. Very poetic. What an effort. Now he was expecting two men downstairs to do their last stand.

"Eenie, meenie, miny-" San hummed playfully, mocking the dramatic situation the unit was heading to. He patiently stroked the trigger as he was warming it up for the action.

It took a second for him to hear what he expected the two corpses to be.

"Achilles, Hercules, Hades 5 secured. Over."

San couldn't help but smile wide, exposing the white, sharp teeth, the deadly glow lighting up his gaze.

"Moe."

The heroes' namesakes, now foolishly relaxed, still managed to notice a black figure stepping on the last set of stairs. They had a chance to look in their doom's eyes before two quick, muted bullets ended up in their skulls.

As expected, no one heard or saw anything as people kept shouting support while moving towards the center to create a crowd of love for their politician friend.

No eye caught the moment of two heavy bodies falling back on the wet concrete that was instantly stained with crimson colors.

San had less than a minute to hide the dead. Thankfully with the strength he possessed that was more than enough. He ran down the stairs and grabbing by the back of their collars, he seamlessly dragged two corpses towards the dumpster and one by one, threw them inside of it. Before the trash bags covered the crime, he took the radios off the guards and lowered the volume to the maximum on both devices. The radios continued to blow up with next sectors check in's, which would catch the unwanted attention.

The job on the ground was done. No need to rush when it came to Olymp cleansing. He climbed to the top floor in peace, causally passing by an older woman who was taking her dog for a walk. The black labrador seemed uneasy when San entered his space. Maybe because of the blood scent on his gloves or the bad intention he was carrying up the building. The man only mischievously smiled at the growling pup that immediately got yelled at by his owner.

He finally faced the door he was about to go through. Oiling the hinges and the knob during the spot preparation a few days ago now was a life saver, letting the Reaper slide out on the roof without the smallest obstacle.

San slowly closed the door behind him and waited a moment, before kneeling down and looking over a wall at the next problem he had to deal with. Somehow San had to manage to get rid of Apollo who was guarding the southern part of the rooftop behind the entrance, without being noticed.

Apollo was laying down in a full sniper position, inspecting the surrounding buildings and streets through the rifle's scope. His back was facing San.

The idea of letting him see the face of a man that was about to become his killer was tempting. But Apollo wasn't anything like San's previous targets. Maybe he wasn't the smartest but he was a soldier that might've gone through the same training. If he went through the same training, he could've actually become a troublesome obstacle.

Without any second thoughts, a hitman pointed the gun at the back of the sniper's helmetless head, presaging a fatal shot. The bullet cut the air with a muted, sharp bull whip sound. Upper part of Apollo's body dropped on the ground, lifeless heavy arms pulling the rifle down with them.

The black figure responsible for shortening the life of the god of sun wannabe, soon crawled up to the body to not be seen by other "eyes". San had to make sure that the shot was final. There was no possibility it wasn't. Still, it made him feel more secure.

He rolled Apollo on the side and pulled the rifle from underneath him. Just as San reached for his jacket to start putting out his own weapon's pieces, he noticed another piece of luck today. There was no need for him to assemble his own rifle, since the dead guardian used the same model. The version was older but it still would get the job done.

"Thanks, man. You know, I always feel bad for killing my own kind."

While looking into his victim's opened but lifeless eyes, he reached for something in his pocket. Then playfully slapping Apollo's cold cheek, he left the mark of the Reaper on it.

"Pity."

San had no time to grieve over that man and his unlucky fate. Pushing the corpse further to the side, he took Apollo's spot before adjusting the rifle back on the stand. It had been a while since he had such comfortable conditions during the assassination. Last time probably during military missions.

"Best day ever." He laughed, both in excitement and sinister at today's fortune of his.

Despite dark blue clouds slowly covering the sky from the east, the sky beyond the horizon still burned, making the town bask in red. The bloody light poured inside the CBC through the glass walls, illuminating everything and everyone inside.

Small tides of adrenaline began to tease his senses. The path was finally clean for the main target's execution, ordered by his political opponents.

Watching the scene through the scope, San made sure that the conference was taking place at the main hall, due to the big crowd of his supporters, party members and media. As planned, the hitman had the governor at the golden plate as he stood on the pedestal while speaking to the people with admirable charisma.

Poor man.

Not only was he about to draw his last breath, his wife was going to scream his killer's name in ecstasy some time after.

With the sun behind San's back, it glared out the red dot sight completely from all the angles but not his. With his hawk eyes and calculative mind supported by experience, he was at the top of his field. He knew how to use his surroundings and conditions, even those not good looking to help him succeed.

Now that he was relaxed, San couldn't stop you from roaming around his head with all the positions he was going to have you in and the surprise he had prepared for his favorite doll. The pricking sensation between his legs at these sinful thoughts as well as the growing adrenaline made his whole body tense up.

"Calm down, San." He whispered, grinning at himself. "You'll get yours soon."

It was time to end the clownfest in that part of Manhattan, before he could move to another. With no obstacle, the red laser marked the politician's side of the head. Everyone else, unlucky blinded by the sun, continued to celebrate his words with shiny eyes and wide smiles on their faces.

San also couldn't help a smile, creeping on his lips. The feeling of unearthly satisfaction tingled his sick ego. He always felt incredibly powerful, holding the right to take or spare lives. He felt like god.

No, he was a god.

"Don't take it personal, Kim Hongjoong. The fact I hold full ownership of your wife's pretty holes has nothing to do with the job." At first his words seemed to be honest, only to turn into a plain mockery. "But damn, it did make it hella more exciting."

The shot was clear, the bullet shattered the widow in pieces to stop right in the target's brain. The governor's body dropped dead behind the rostrum. The blue carpet on the stage, absorbing the growing paddle of blood began turning purple.

Manhattan's eagle, as he was called by his supporters, fell.

San used every second of total shock among the crowd before the panic exploded and the federals would begin searching the sectors. The chaos as well as the lack of idea where the shot came from were the moments that allowed San to escape without a problem.

Leaving the stairway he gulped with big steps, San couldn't help but nonchalantly pat the green dumpster containing new additions to his long list of victims. He indeed left a trail of bodies today.

With a hurry, he walked up to his black Kawaki Ninja that was waiting for him a block away. The hitman went back to looking ordinary, blending into the crowd as a simple biker. San watched the police and ambulances rushing towards the CBC as he was putting the helmet on.

"I'm leaving the mess to you." he whispered, mockingly saluting towards the pacing cars.

Switching his phone online, a message from unknown as well as a bank notification arrived immediately, both related to one another.

Unknown》》 The whole payment has been sent onto your bank account. Good job, Reaper.

The amount of zeros put a smirk on his face underneath the helmet. The job there was done. Now it was time for the second part. He could entirely indulge in his own sweet mission of ruining you.

He closed the eye shield, hiding the devilish expression. His instincts growled along with the bike as he began reviving the engine.

"Aw, Y/n." He laughed quietly, the bike rolled onto the street, joining the traffic. "You're one unlucky bitch."

5.54 pm.

Choi was never late. He also hated when you were late. Many times you were met with an empty room when you did not get there on time. Following the schedule was apparently very important for your lover. That was why you knew his frame would be standing in the hotel room’s door in the next 6 minutes. You still had some time to make yourself look even more irresistible.

As instructed, you turned your phone off before leaving the house as well as you took a taxi to arrive at the hotel. Wig and dark glasses you wore while traveling there, now laid messy on the bed. Necessary measures when you’re a high politician’s wife. You would be totally fucked if the news of your lack of morality came to the light. Not that you personally had a problem, cheating on your husband. Marriage with Hongjoong was a pure business. Elite families union. Still, you wouldn’t only ruin your husband’s career, which you would definitely pay for, but you’d also close all the door to your own future political career.

However, the risk held so much thrill. This sick kind of frisson you were always drawn to. It was addictive. No, you were already addicted.

Trying to fix your hair, you could feel your nerves and excitement alternately raising your heart rate at the thought of what was happening. Your husband was somewhere out there, preaching about freedom and positive changes for the future, surrounded by hundreads and listened by thousands, while you stood here in a hotel room, looking at your refletion in the mirror and waiting for your lover, like a sex slave for her master.

A series of chills run down your spine. Both from your corrupted mind and the click of the opening door. Your eyes subconsciously landed on your phone screen.

6pm.

With no need to rush, as a professional you walked out the bedroom to the saloon. Immediately, your gaze went to a black figure filling the entire door frame with his insanely broad shoulders. The helmet hung in his left hand.

“Like clockwork.” You commented with a shaky voice, watching him up and down like a starving vampire.

Instead of saying something, Choi’s face lit up with an indescribable smile, however the look in his eyes was darker than ever. You stood far away from him but you still could see that indefinable glow in his expression.

“You look…different.” You noticed.

“I’m feeling different.” He replied with an amused but also deep tone.

“It’s positive, I hope.”

You couldn’t deny that Choi was still a mystery to you. And something told you he would always be. No, you didn’t mind. Both of you needed physicality from one another. Nothing more.

The twisted way you two knew nothing about each other, except for every inch of your bodies was the biggest thrill that in your case bordered with slight obsession. Seemingly, it could be his case too as he was the one who called you this time.

The helmet landed on the floor with a muted thud that made you somewhat flinch.

“You’re about to see for yourself.” He grinned, closing the doors behind him and taking a few heavy steps forward. “Personally, I think you’re gonna love every second of it, beautiful.”

“I also have something special for you.” You teased, feeling proud of your new lingerie set you bought just for him.

“I can’t wait.” He purred with a raspy voice.

You watched him as his teeth bite on the gloves finger tips, one by one and slid it off his hands. It was too dark for you to see the dried up blood on the black leather. Then his jacket came undone and shared the same fate as the gloves and the helmet.

“You’re not gonna help me undress?” He snickered at your stillness that clashed with your loud, fastening breathing.

You clapped to activate the illumination system. The saloon lighted up, showing his sharp details to your hungry eyes.

His black t-shirt was completely soaked. Pants of the same color enhanced his massive thighs. Tiny waist embraced by leather belt with an attached keychain to it, showing something similar to a skull and a snake embracing it. His naked arm muscles shone with sweat. Short front strings of hair were stuck to his high and glistening with sweat forehead.

The view took your breath away which failed to escape his attentive eyes.

“And?”

You gulped loudly, swallowing the urge to fall on your knees right there on the spot.

“Shower first.” You ventured, turning around and going back into the bedroom. “I’m not letting you touch me befo-”

Steal arms surrounded you from behind like vines, limiting your movements to the minimum. You couldn’t help but scream, which was muted with his hand over your mouth.

A growl rung in your ear, “Yes you are.”

Holding you deadlocked in his embrace, with his lips glued to your ear, Choi swayed you both slowly towards the bed.

“What’s the point of shower if I’m gonna drip in sweat in a few minutes again. And you along with me, beautiful.” He taunted, sending electrifying waves down your body that contributed to the heavy flooding of your new underwear. “Let’s be eco friendly.”

Your knees touched the edge of a king sized bed when Choi let you go to take care of your white, hotel robe. But even then, you didn’t mean to move. You let him slide the robe from your shoulder, indulging in the curses leaving his lips as your body in the skimpy, black lingerie was exposed to his eyes.

You were embarrassingly weak for that man. The harsher he was with you the better. Because of him calling you first, you become swollen-headed, which made you think you could dictate the rules tonight. What a dumb bitch you were.

Slow movements of hands followed your lines and curves as if you were some Michael Angelo’s masterpiece. Through the bra you still could feel how warm his big hands were. The intense massage of your breast made your head fall backward onto his shoulder. His loud breaths burn your exposed neck and soothe it with kisses and licks.

You desperately needed that mouth and tongue of his somewhere else. Immediately.

“C–Choi…” You called him among the whimpers.

“You’re usually more shameless than requests.” He chuckled.

You understood the digression. Instinctively, you rubbed your ass against his hard rock erection.

“I-I need your tongue all over….” You moaned seductively and when your hand found his, it guided him between your trembling legs. "...her.”

“Filthy slut.” He giggled but you picked up the gulp of his at the wetness his fingers sunk in.

Choi gave your craving pussy a few lazy strokes to gain loud whines from you, before grabbing your hips to make you face him.

You had no time to think as his hand locked on your throat and cold eyes pierced through you.

"You do deserve that wish to come true as a reward for being such a good cumslut for me after all these months. But it's not like you didn't profit from it either." He grinned.

It would have some cuteness to it if not for the ice in his gaze as well as his unforgivable hand around your neck.

"And I don't do things for free."

You flinched as he suddenly attacked your lips with his. However, he kissed you painfully slowly, teased you with the brushes of his tongue as his plan was to make you go insane with lust. Little did you know it was a silence before the storm.

You tried to initiate a more passionate kiss but in response to your attempt, Choi pushed you onto the bed that squeaked at you landing.

He got rid of the wet t-shirt, revealing his sculpture-like body. His muscles were even more defined now then they were when you met previously. You moaned quietly at the ravishing sight.

Choi was perfect, a walking irresistible sin.

With one knee he climbed onto the bed and placing his hands on the sides of your head, he hovered over you.

He smirked at your shameless glares at his lips. You surely imagined them all over you. Choi however wasn't done with kissing you.

This time he wasn't torturing you with a slow pace. He surprised you with his hunger and aggressiveness. The wetness of the kiss went hand in hand with the pool between your thighs. Moaning into his mouth, you tried to pull him onto you. You wanted his skin rubbing against yours.

His hand reached for a pillow above your head to prepare the stage for the act he had in mind but a black object caught his attention. The man broke the kiss and reached for it.

"Is that yours?"

It took a second for you to stop worshiping his muscles and for your senses to come back. The realization hit you suddenly and you froze. Now you knew what he saw and what he was asking about.

Oh no.

A gun hung around his finger. Your gun.

"Y-yes." You stuttered. "That's for precaution."

"You planned to kill me if I fucked you the wrong way?" He growled with widened eyes, making the gun rock back and forth above your face.

"No. I always have it. It's just a habit." You explained, telling him nothing but the truth.

He didn't know who you were and you couldn't tell him. Being married to a man with many enemies forced you to wear the weapon with you. Especially when you went somewhere without bodyguards.

Choi seemed to not be listening to you as he stood up and started wandering around the room. His quick eyes studied the gun from all its sides.

"Walther CCP M2 380." He said coldly. "Admirable."

You felt somewhat unsafe, seeing a man you basically didn't know with a gun while being upset. The fact he knew the model from one look was even more concerning.

"I sleep with it under my pillow everyday. That's just a habit." You continued to convince him.

"I understand."

He didn't sound like he did. Choi turned to you with a smile, heavily hued with danger. His free hand grabbed a chair and dragged it in front of you.

"You named it?" He asked as he was playing some game.

The man sat down on the chair with the gun now correctly placed in his hand. And what was worse, pointed at you.

"No." You replied with a worried voice. "It's just a gun."

"How about Apollo?" His rhetorical question was followed by a mischievous laughter. "It's Apollo from now on."

He didn't load it but it was unhelpful for you to feel better.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, your faces aligned. "What are you gonna do?"

"Get up." He commanded.

You had no choice but to do what he said.

"Come here." Another command.

Approaching him as close as you could, you now domed over him but you felt nowhere near empowered. You flinged at the coldness of the gunmetal on your womanhood.

"W-what are you doing?"

"It's more about what you are gonna do, beautiful."

The gun pressed even harder, now brushing your clit. A series of brutal chills possessed your body. Despite the situation, your treacherous cunt throbbed in excitement.

"Ride it."

Your eyes widened with surprise. So he wasn't mad, he simply chose to use the occasion for a foreplay. That indeed suited him.

"That seems pretty unsafe." As much as you wanted to do it, a peace of caution decided to come through your corrupted mind.

"It's not loaded." He chuckled at the sudden change in your voice. You didn't seem to be so scared anymore. "If you don't ride Apollo and make him sticky with your cum, you're not getting the real gun tonight. And I promise you…"

With this he solidly grabbed his clothes cock.

"This one is loaded.'

You allowed him to push the weapon between your legs completely. The feeling of thrill filled you up again. You looked down at Choi's dark eyes that watched you intensely.

As he wasn't saying anything, you slowly began moving your hips back and front. You felt how the slight rugged surface of the metal only added more friction.

"Ahh.." you inhaled sharply as the gun moved on its own since his holder decided to fasten the process.

You watched Choi sitting there, leaning backward on the chair like he was a master of anything. At the first sight he looked relaxed and amused. However, his jaw muscle tensing up with each of your moans gave him away. He barely controlled himself as you stood there between his legs with his hand mercilessly pushing the gun, spreading your swollen folds.

The feeling was overpowering. The flood of pleasure made you lean forward, supporting yourself on the chair's frame.

"Fuuuuck. It feels so good."

You looked at him with hazy eyes. He was smiling widely before stopping his movements.

"Fuck yourself on it." His eyes glowed while looking up at you.

You didn't have to be told twice. The need for release was enormous and you were so close. The wetness completely soaked your underwear and started leaking down your thighs.

You rode the gun as fast as you could to reach the highest pleasure. The thought alone that it was a dangerous weapon that fucked you was enough to double the excitement. The heat waves hit you one after another.

"Cum on it." He ordered, seeing you holding onto the last string of control.

The gun got caged between your cramping thighs. Your knees went weak from all the convulsing attacking your body. The release birthed some beautiful sounds from your throat. Apparently so sweet and satisfying, it broke him.

He abruptly got up, pulling you close by your waist to him as his other hand, tightening around the gun, was brutally working between your trembling legs.

The slick and uneven metal surface rubbed you in all the right places after he put more pressure on your dripping pussy.

"Fuuuuuck, Choi!"

You were coming hard, looking into his cold and maniacally needy eyes as he walked, or more like dragged you backward. He dropped you back on the bed as soon as your high disappointingly weakend.

"Damn." He clacked, watching the surface of the weapon, completely wet. "I'm surely gonna miss it."

His words didn't get to your ears. Your mind was anywhere but there with you.

It wasn't the end of dangerous weapons for you. Apollo fell somewhere on the floor to be replaced with its equally deadly friend. A sudden click of the opening knife brought you back from cloud nine. You tried to glance at Choi but next you knew you had the cold blade at your neck as well as a whole man hovering over you.

"You–"

"Maybe after I'm done with you, you'll regret not using that gun on me." He hissed while slowly drawing a trace from your trachea to the carotid.

You didn't dare to move, feeling the sharp object moving down your sternum. The tightness of the bra disappeared. He seamlessly released your breasts. The knife was very sharp, too sharp.

Only when the man let out a satisfying adlip at the view, you felt the stinging pain.

"Blood suits you, Y/n." He smiled at you, his lips getting close to your wound.

His long tongue felt hot against your skin. Even in a dimmed light you noticed your blood marking his muscle as it collected all the droplets from a small cut.

"Mhmm.." your lover hummed as if he was tasting the most delicious thing.

That action should've absolutely creeped you out. But the result was completely different. Familiar vibrations returned between your thighs, making you unconsciously move them, attempting to rub onto him. Your breath became loud, faster. You wanted more of that madness.

Nothing escaped his attention. Without a word, he licked the wound, occasionally sucking and grabbing your erect nipples between his teeth.

"More.." You whined quietly.

The muted laugh that left his throat woke the worst behavior in you.

"Yes, you're right. Let's cut some more, shall we?" He trailed off, his fast eyes wandering down, "How about…here?"

The blade cut through the lace of your underwear like butter, uncovering the wet truth.

"Bingo."

With the top part of the knife, Choi began painting abstractions on their sensitive womb. He watched you closely, feeding on your cute whimpers. Your eyes getting more drunk, your actions becoming more desperate and lewd. It was activating the devil in him and all the accompanying demons in.

San felt undefeated, controlling life and death, people and whole cities. No rules, no morals. He embodied freedom. Walking by the club, then buying it along with people working there. Murdering a politician, then senselessly fucking his wife. He could do everything he wanted, he got everything he desired and no one could stand on his way. He was…Yes, yes he was. And he was about to make you admit it.

A whip sound cut the air. The knife ended up in the wall. You had no chance to react or ask what happened as two fingers entered you immediately.

You grabbed his wrist at the sudden invasion.

"Aah fu-"

His free hand embraced your neck and pinned your head to the bed.

"Say I'm a god." The man demanded, thread hanging in his tone like his all existence depended on it.

You looked at him, overwhelmed by the unbearable teasing he kept sending upon you with his two digits deep inside you. He curled them up, uncontrollably had you jolting your hips upwards but his unforgiving hand pinned you back on the mattress.

"Say it."

The man's face darkened in its expression, eyes beamed with something unknown to you, something that made you gulp at the first glance but the lust and hunger for danger was stronger, quickly killing all the doubts in the bud.

"You're a god." You breathed out, "You're…my god."

The grasp on your neck tightened, making you squirm in need. Choi smiled as if you gave him fulfillment, cheeks adorned with dimples did not match his mad eyes.

You trembled at the fingers sliding out of you. All you could do was lay with bated breath and watch as he rested wet digits on his stuck out tongue and then sucking your juices off.

"You cunt already worshipping me." Choi laughed.

Next he sat down and with one, quick and effortless move he turned you over. Spreading your legs, he buried his handsome face between them. His tongue immediately went busy mercilessly lapping on your dripping folds.

"Fuck." You moaned, gripping tight onto the sheets.

With loud grunts, he was devouring you as if he intended to suck the soul out of your being. Slurping on your essence, abusing your sensitive clit with the tip of his organ of taste, he had you mumbling nonsense.

To have a better access to your soaking folds, he put his arms around your ass and made your back bend downward with his hands interlocked on your waist.

"Fuuuck!" You whined between heavy breaths when this position let him reach for your clit. You heard those crazy sinful sounds his mouth produced in contact with your flooded pussy.

Smoothly transitioning to a new tactic, San gave you a few long, full licks, tongue relaxed and flat, that traced from your pussy up to your ass. He kneeled before your exposed bottom.

"Did I ever tell you your slutty holes have been my favorite?" He hummed.

The man didn't wait for the answer. You weren't even able to give it to him. He aggressively spat on your spreaded cheeks, lubricating your holes with his thumb.

"Show me they still are fitted for that title."

Two fingers return to penetrating you but this time it was different.

You gasped loudly as Choi did not share his plans with you.

The walls of your cunt welcomed his middle finger, while your ass engulfed the index finger.

You screamed in pleasure of being fucked in both holes. The tempo was crazy, bringing you to the edge at a fast pace. His long tools on torture attacked your sweet spot from all the directions. Your sight began getting blurry. The drool oozed from your mouth. You were about to cum hard again.

If that wasn't enough, Choi let his other hand wander underneath you to take care of your lonely bud with merciless circle motions.

"Fuuck fuck fuck I'm cumming!"

As if you said something wrong, his hands suddenly left your trembling body.

"What-"

"I don't do things for free, remember?"

Choi ignored your disappointed surprise. Unmoved by your whines, he turned you on your back again.

Your senses were dulled but your whole body was working at full speed, every nerve awaked. You felt like erupting.

He didn't seem to care as he was busy unbuckling his belt and getting rid of his black cargo pants and heavy boots.

You gasped at the full view of his naked frame. The glistening cock proudly throbbed, teasing you with the pleasure you felt dizzy thinking of.

In complete silence he grabbed your ankles and pulled you close to him. Positioning you to kneel, he stood up on the bed, with you between his legs.

It was unknown to you why he went for this position. For him, his chase for power and ultimate control manifested itself in that. The higher he could get, no matter the situation, he would go for it.

His dick aligned with your face. You were confused at first but then you understood his needs. You licked your lips at what you would be tasting next.

"Take him as you want to be taken, beautiful. I only take fair deals." He said, shamelessly grabbing his pride and directing it towards your mouth.

And you did. You attacked him with all your power, forcing him to support himself on the upper wooden frame of the bed that was screwed to the ceiling.

"Yeah, just like that. Good girl." He praised you, trying his best to not betray his state.

With the help of your palm, you took him whole, sucking the life out of his tip that was turning more and more purple from the tension.

After a minute of blowing him off like there is no tomorrow, he firmly grasped your messy hair to your head to keep it in place. He fucked your mouth like a starving beast, throwing spirited curses in the air.

You felt yourself dripping on the sheets. Reaching back, you couldn't remember ever being this wet before you met Choi. The need for his dick, no matter how he was going give it to you turned you in a dumb, brained washed whore. And you loved it with every inch of your body and every corner of the darkest parts of your mind.

He laughed in an approaching ecstasy.

"That motherfucking throat of yours was made to take dicks- Ahh shit, yes!"

He put on speed, ruthlessly hitting the wall of your throat. You couldn't control your breathing anymore and began sweating. Tears fell down your heated cheeks. Thick drool from the corner of your lips. You began choking.

"Shit shit shit!"

The overpowering pleasure made his knees go weak. He held your head and fell down along with you, pulling his cock out of mouth at the landing.

"Fuck, you almost made me cum, you little slut." He laughed maniacally while looking at your fucked up face.

You had problems focusing. Trying to calm down your breathing made your throat hurt even more. However you still smiled at him, lying there between his thighs, with his quivering cock above you. Him cursing you out made you proud that you took him like a champ. It only whetted your appetite.

He tilted his head at the side with an act of worry on his face. That little asshole.

"Aww my poor baby." He pouted and began wiping the drool and teras of your chin and face. "Worked so hard to get my cock inside you, didn't you? Yes you did."

The sweet face faded as fast as it appeared and gave its place to the real lunatic.

"Imma quench my thirst first. I know you're drowning down there." With this, he slapped your thighs apart and dived right into the act of eating you out like a gluttonous addict.

San seemed to overly enjoy your taste and how wet you were from all the teasing and edging. Sounds that came out of his mouth were proof of that. His dramatic grunting, moaning, groaning added vibrations to the already rough pleasure your cunt was graced with.

With his tongue, hard and tensed he made circles around your clit like a hungry vulture.

"Please, don't sto-op. Just like that." You whined with a husky voice.

The man kindly, almost suspiciously decided to listen to your begging as he continued. He seemed to be leading you towards the needed release and you hoped he would finally allow you to take it.

Sudden invasion of his fingers made you grab his short black hair, as a silent plea to not stop.

Rubbing onto your sweet spot, he began sucking on your sensitive bud. Despite his mouth being busy, you still could hear his muted laugh. San had your body and soul under his total control, just like he liked it.

You sensed the warmth starting to spread from between your thighs up your belly and chest. You could feel the ecstasy would be crushing in a second now. Every nerve in your body was ready to pass the pleasure further.

"Ah I'm cumming hard." You announced it with a high pitched whine.

At your words, his lips and fingers left your shaking body. You screamed in anger. You really felt like crying like a child denied the things it wants.

It was all a game for him. You were just a toy, a doll ready to act the way he wanted. He didn't care about your pleading and state.

"Noo! Choi, no please don't stop! Please! I want to cum. I need to…" You begged, annoyed at him and desperate for him. Unconsciously you tried to bring his face back to your puffy folds but he was stronger, not only physically but also mentally. He could get you to do anything.

"But this is so much fun, beautiful? Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my face. Pathetic. " He grinned at your hips moving. His plumb lips and chin were glistening from all your wetness.

Winking at you, he sent his hand under your thighs and grabbed your waist. Like a bag of sand, he rolled you both over. You found yourself kneeling with his insanely handsome face underneath you.

"Ride my fucking mouth like I knew you dream of every night. You better flood my tongue with your cum, you hear me?" He growled at you with a threat. "I'm having this cunt drowning me."

You looked at him with gratitude.

"Yes, sir."

With a devilish smile, Choi stuck his tongue out and accepted your pink velvet like it was created to fit only the shape of his lips.

The pathetic desperation had you immediately go to work. Will slow movements your rode his face back and forth. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. You stared at two voids, full of the unknown, but not the unknown you want to explore, but the one you run away from. His eyes devoured you as if he was putting some curse on your mind to worship him in all his might. And you had no choice but to let him.

After a few trials to find a perfect spot and pace, you found yourself with his tongue deep inside you where he moved it vigorously in your pulsating walls and your clit hitting against his nose.

"It feels so good, aah."

He slapped and hashly squeezed your ass to command you to go faster. You were supposed to ride his mouth like a desperate slut you were.

Your hips fastened. The euphoria, due to being previously denied, was coming quickly. You were ready to welcome it with open arms and you were not going to let Choi stop it.

Caging him between your thighs, you fell forward, supporting yourself with your hands. You closed your eyes shut, all that mattered at that moment were your body needs.

His tongue penetrated your corners, never giving in. The man allowed you to do anything, he wanted to feel you crushing only with a minimal effort. Choi had your juices dripping down his chin and neck. He couldn't help himself, and when you came undone, screaming and trembling on your entire body, he grabbed your hips and pinned you deeper into his face – mouth now clinged to your convulsing pussy, sucking all the cum like a nourishing nectar.

"Choi, fuuuck!"

"More." He groaned, detaching from you, "More!"

You had no capacity to stop him and you let him throw you on your back again. With blurry eyes you saw him picking up something from the floor.

It looked like the bra and panties that he previously cut.

Using their stretchy fabric he quickly tied each of your knees to the bed frame behind you. Now you were laying there, extremely astride, which wasn't a problem with you being flexible. He had your womanhood on a shameless display. You were too distracted by the slow fade of the powerful orgasm to protest.

The man climbed onto you, looked in your eyes and smiled, biting his lips.

"Good girl." He cooed, caressing your cheek. You tried to catch a breath and Choi saw this as an opportunity to slide his thumb inside your opened mouth. Obeying, you sucked on it. "Fuck. I feel like my balls are about to explode. Congratulations."

He raised himself up and watched the scene he prepared. You waited there, sanity hanging on the thinnest of threats. Whole covered in sweat, drool and with exposed holes, all for him to demolish.

You woke up a little at your pussy being slapped by his hard rock cock.

"Choi..." you whispered.

But there was no time for conversation. He slid inside and it was the only time he did it slowly and carefully. After adjusting to your tightness with a few pushes, the pace dangerously increased.

"You're on a pill, aren't you?"

"Y–yes." you replied while gripping on the sheets from your walls being unmercifully stretched. He was thick, incredibly thick.

His face suddenly appeared before you, his body weight pinning you to the bed.

"Tsk, shame." Fingers wrapping around your neck, "It'd low-key be fun to see your belly round with my bastard and then struggling to hide the fact it's not a governor's kid."

It was your first mistake. Melting over his huge dick fucking you, instead of listening to the last words. San knew you wouldn't register it. He had you stupid, brainwashed.

"Wouldn't it?" He demanded to fuel his satisfaction.

You were not able to answer, not with him rubbing you in all the right spots. The heat crawled up your back and cheeks. You were on fire.

"I-"

He slid out to reposition but you had no chance to even whine in disappointment as he abruptly came back inside.

"WOULDN'T IT!?" He growled out.

Now he, supported on his hands and feet, pounded into you with the help of his entire weight. His pelvis raised and fell with even pace but ruthless intentions.

"Yes, it would. Yes, it would. YES, IT WOULD."

You held onto his forearms, accepting all the thrusts.

"You're gonna take every drop. All the load! Like the Real. Cum. Dump. Ster. You. Are." He spat aggressively and every sylab meant one powerful pound, making the hotel bed screech underneath his power.

"Yes, sir!" You cried out from potent pleasure.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the voice stuck in your chords. The breathing became harder, almost impossible. Your face distorted from unimaginable bliss. You didn't feel the pain from your ties sunk into your skin, causing the nasty marks. All your senses accepted was the stone, veiny dick, making a point that San owned you entirely.

He stopped moving, realizing you were close. He buried himself as deep in you as he could, held it for a two second and then abruptly left your interior. Repeating this act a few times had you convulsing in madness.

You came, crying out his fake name which put a smile on his perfect, sinful face. He began riding your high with a contented expression until it suddenly gave its place to surprise.

He was coming.

"Fuck." He hissed.

His orgasm arrived faster than he planned. Your pussy cramped around him, drastically sucking him in. Grabbing you neck with both hands, he returned to fucking you like a maniac, chasing his high.

You were tired but you could feel yourself cumming again. You were too sensitive, the pace and his muscular hands on your neck was enough to stimulate you.

"I'm cumming again!" You whined, fully crying now. It was too much, but it felt so good.

"Milk my fucking dick out! Take it all." He managed to sound harsh before his voice broke along with his movements getting sloppier.

You both came, sending moans and grunts each other's way. Hot load exploded inside you, flooding your walls and all their corners.

San slid out of you only after making sure every last drop that left his balls ended in you.

You closed your eyes and let your drained, tensed body sink into the soft bed. Worrying about a big amount of sperm leaking out of you or how you would bring your senses back and more importantly walk, you left it all for later. You needed to rest, catch a breath.

You didn't notice how quickly San got up until you heard him laugh. Chills run down your spine and you look at him confused, terrified. The laugh wasn't normal for someone who just had the best sex in their life. It belonged to someone who just won a deadly deal, who just made a fool out of somebody else.

"What are you doing?" You asked, seeing him picking up his clothes and boots.

He didn't grace you with his eyes and attention until he wasn't fully dressed up.

"It may sadden you, beautiful. It surely saddens me but…" He chuckled and ripping the knife off the wall, he hid it in his pocket. "This is farewell."

Your heart sank. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before finally shouting, "What are you talking about?!"

"Simple. I got what I wanted. I don't enjoy you anymore." He smirked and you felt like ripping his face off.

You attempted to untie yourself but the knots were precisely tied, like the military style. And mercilessly cut into the skin around your knees.

"You must be joking-"

Choi silenced you by climbing the bed with his face suddenly being close to yours.

And the knife at your throat.

The man smiled, with his eyes wide open and you finally saw the truth. You saw the devil, but you were so convinced it was just an act. Trembling on your body intensified. It wasn't roleplay. All of that, from the first meeting up till now, it was not a play.

Choi used you. All this time when you thought you walked on firm ground, you were actually walking on the thinnest ice.

You never claimed you knew him well. But you did think you knew him enough to trust him with that little secret he was also part of.

He was a total stranger. The man might've been a serial killer. A fucking cannibal. You knew nothing. Did he really threaten you with those weapons? What if you did something wrong, would he kill you? He could've killed you. What did you get yourself into?

Seeing the unpleasant enlightenment in your eyes, he leaned even closer and pecked your shaking lips like the most gentle lover. You let him, as you were absolutely frozen.

"Once you release yourself from this, I advise you to check your phone, watch the news. I'm pretty sure the whole country is looking for you right now, ma'am." He limited his volume to the whisper, "I want you to know…it was me."

With this, he lowered himself on you, kept looking in your eyes, he pecked your abused, still exposed core.

"I wish you a good life, Mrs. Kim."

And he left, not turning back at your screaming and shouting.

You were cold as someone poured a bucket of icy water on you. Frost filled your veins. Every ounce of excitement, mood from just a few minutes ago vanished. You were now crying. Not from the overpowering euphoria like before but from pure fear. Crushing fear.

He knew. Choi, if that was even his name, he knew who you were. The question was – since when? For how long he had been playing with you?

Fighting a panic attack, you somehow managed to release yourself from the harmful ties. The tightness and rough edges made the skin under your knees bleed.

You climbed off the bed, almost falling on the floor due to how sore you were. Everything hurt; from your head to toes.

The room lit up when you got to the switch. You rustle your phone out of your purse and turn it on. You were gulping back sobs.

The unanswered calls flooded the screen. From your bodyguards, your parents and members of your husband's party as well as workers of his office.

"I'm pretty sure the whole country is looking for you right now, ma'am."

Your heart dropped to your feet.

The TV remote, resting at the coffee table caught your attention as if it was calling your name. Everything in your body was telling you to not watch the news. That it will crush you. You had all the worst scenarios running wild in your mind; sextapes released, scandals and rumors. This psychopath could do everything. Your true, but unacceptable to public nature could not be your little dirty secret anymore. You know that no matter what it was he had done, you were ruined.

There was no way out. You would have to face it sooner or later. At first the screen showed you a sitcom with the audience laughing at dialogues between two comedians. You felt like you were the object of their taunts. Pressing the button that led you to the next channel, you already felt your life ended with it. You wished it would've prepared you for the darkness you got thrown into.

THE GOVERNOR OF MANHATTAN SHOT AT THE CBC.

ASIDE FROM THE GOVERNOR, THERE WERE THREE MORE VICTIMS – AGENTS THAT PATROLLED THE AREA.

FBI CONFIRMS THE KILLER WAS A WELL TRAINED SNIPER. TERRORIST ATTACK?

Your legs failed to hold you up. Falling on your knees, every part of your body went limp. Head was about to explode from a sudden migraine as if too much information flooding your mind attempted to melt your skull. You felt like a nest of scorpions exploded inside you, stinging all the organs you needed to live.

"Shot?" You repeated the news, it was the only thing you could do right now – asking questions into the empty sphere, "Hongjoong's…dead?"

The tears had finally fallen from your hollow eyes. What was happening? Is it some sort of prank, a stupid joke? You could feel your sanity slipping away at an alarming speed.

FBI QUICKLY DISCOVERED THE BUILDING FROM WHICH THE HITMAN GAVE A SHOT. ON THE SPOT THEY FOUND A STICKER, GLUED TO THE VICTIM'S CHEEK. THE STICKER SHOWS A SKULL WITH A SNAKE. IT'S BEING INVESTIGATED AS A POSSIBLE MARK OF THE KILLER.

Skull and a snake? A scene flashed before your eyes. You had seen it somewhere. Yes, you definitely did. You saw it today.

"I want you to know…it was me."

You felt nauseous and even though you tried to control it, you vomited on the white carpet, already stained with blood. Trying to push away the truth was impossible. Choi told you to meet him up in secret, then he killed your husband. Next he came to fuck you, knowing exactly who you were and that you were unaware of what was happening outside the hotel. He played you like a fool, ruined your life. He stripped you of dignity, shame and life. He killed your husband. Took your future away from you and your family.

You began laughing. Just like Choi before leaving you in this hell. You were done. What was there left for you?

"Nothing." You answered yourself.

Subconsciously, your eyes wandered to the gun laying half a meter away from you. You crawled to it. Grabbing it unphased, you slowly loaded the weapon.

"Nothing." You repeated with an empty heart.

The gunmetal felt cold under your chin. You couldn't believe how easily you contributed to the destruction of your own life that you so carefully planned.

Your mind was filled with the faces of your friends and family, as well as Hongjoong's. Now the tears you shed were for both of you. Maybe if you gave him a chance when he asked for it, you wouldn't be here today.

You smiled, remembering his beautiful smile, his warmth and began putting pressure on the trigger.

THERE IS NO CONTACT WITH THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE, KIM Y/N. DID SHE ALSO BECAME A VICTIM OF THE KILLER? WAS HE WORKING ALONE?

You quickly put the gun down as your thoughts changed the flow.

You saw all the loopholes in his rash plan. Dots begged to be linked. The news header wasn't far from the truth. You were a victim of the killer. He may have left you alive for some reason but he did use your vulnerability. Choi hurt you and threatened you. He injured you. He also admitted to the murder. He wore the same keychain as the sticker that the FBI found. You looked down at your body. Additionally, you were covered and filled with his DNA.

The light appeared in the dark tunnel.

A sudden buzzing of your phone tamed the brainstorm unfolding in your mind.

The secretary of your husband's office kept trying to reach you. After all Krystal was also your friend. No wonder she still tried to reach you when all the hope was gone for others.

You slid the green button.

"Oh my God, Y/n! Where are you!?" Her voice blew up from the speaker. "Are you ok!?"

It was time to begin the act of the century. Everything was allowed to bring hell upon this psychopath.

"He said he had dirt on Hongjoong. That if I met with him alone and gave him money, he would leave us alone." You sobbed into the phone. "He took the money. He…hurt me, Krys."

"Jesus Christ, Y/n?! Where are you?" Her tone was even more panicked.

"Mandarin Oriental, apartment 5. Please, come quickly. He left but he can come back." You mumbled in fear because the possibility of your words happening wasn't that unbelievable.

"I'm on my way! Call the hotel service now and tell them everything. Tell them to call the police. Do you hear me? You can't be alone!"

You mumbled something in response and put the phone down.

After ending the call, you indeed got worried he might've come back after realizing his terrible mistake. You immediately darted toward one of the nightstands, as much as your strength and injured legs allowed you to and grabbed the phone. The service was soon to be there.

His words rang in your ears suddenly. Choi told you to call him a god. Idiot got too comfortable in his ego.

He was a product of seven deadly sins. Prideful in thinking he was invincible, untouchable. Led by wrath, lust and gluttony, he wanted all the power and control over life, death as well as all mysteries of your body and when he tasted it, he couldn't get enough. You witnessed how jealousy blinded him that he could never be what his sick mind desired. He could never be like a god. Gods don't make stupid mistakes, don't miscalculate. And at last; the cherry on top, he was too lazy to clean after himself.

"We will meet again." You taunted, putting on the robe to hide your bruised and cut body, an important piece of evidence.

You calmly sat back down on the messed up bed while wiping your cheeks from all the tears and smudged make up. You felt horrible but you didn't plan to be alone in misery. If you were meant to fall, you would take Choi down with you. He was about to meet his doom and the doom wore your name.

"Aw, Choi. You're one unlucky son of a bitch."

@nateezfics as you asked ❤️

3K notes · View notes

redr0sewrites · 12 days

Note

(Tumblr kicked me out in the middle of me writing this ask I'm so sorry if you receive this twice 😭)

I JUST READ YOUR STRIKER HEADCANONS AND IM DROOLING RN

I think he likes it when you make him fight for it sometimes. He likes the power struggle. Wrestle with him in bed, make him hold you down, make him tie your wrists together to keep you from flipping him over. If he wants to dom you, make him earn it.

Also? Heavy on the gunplay. It's never loaded of course and you have a safeword should you ever need it, but seeing that little twinge of fear in your eyes when you realize you can't keep fighting him, he won, you're powerless, AND he has a gun pressed against your temple? Delicious. Makes him feel strong.

Could I maybe request something like this?

yes oh my god this is literally what i was thinking when i made those hcs NONNIE U READ MY MIND ♥️

🥀Cw: smut, a bit of fluff, established relationship/consent, reader is gn but there is one use of m'am/sir, powerplay, scratching, biting, gun kink, overall filth

🥀minors dni

you collapse against the bed as striker pins you down, beating you easily in yet another wrestling match. the mattress dips from your combined weight, and striker used the opportunity to lean down, whispering against your neck. the combination of thefeeling of his breath ticking your sensitive skin and his raspy voice makes you shjver. "aww, how sweet," striker coos, mockingly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "did ya really think y'could beat me, poppet?" you squirm beneath him, his hips planted firmly above you with his thighs caging you in place. you buck your hips upwards, eliciting a hiss from striker as you grind against his prominent buldge. his tail rattles slightly, curling up around your thigh as, with one hand, he grabs you wrists and pins them down above your head.

"fucking brat," striker spat, using his free hand to grab your face, forcing you to look at him. his cowboy hat tipped forward, falling of his head as he leaned down to kiss you messily. you giggle when the hat falls to the side, but the giggle soon melts into a moan as striker grinds down against you. "fuck, doll, look what you do t'me.." striker murmurs against your lips, and you let him slip his tongue into the cavern of your mouth as the hand on your face travels down to your neck.

suddenly, with all your might, you push up against him, attempting to flip him over onto his back. striker lets out a throaty chuckle, tsking when you whine out his name. "y'wanna be on top, sugar? too damn bad," his voice transcends into a growl as he makes quick work of your pants and undergarments. he pulls apart from you to quickly undress himself, and while you remove your top, you also use the time to admire his toned body. "like what ya see?" striker smirks, crawling on top of you again, his hands finding purchase on your supple thighs. he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze before gently teasing your entrance with a finger. "y'ready?" he asks, his voice adopting a softer, serious tone. "if ya want to stop, we always can." you smile, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to your needy hole. "i know, striker. and i know what i want- i want you, and i want you to touch me." the corner of his mouth twitches, fighting off a crazed grin. "y'really are such a doll, y'know that?" striker whispers huskily, plunging a finger into you. you gasp at the pleasurable intrusion, soon accompanied by a second finger as he stretches you out.

"o-oh! ffuck-" you gasp, keening as he curls his fingers with mind numbing accuracy. striker brushes your hair out of your eyes, watching your face twist in pleasure as you pant. he can feel you practically sucking in his fingers, and a sudden idea strikes him. "open up," striker commands, grabbing his gun from the bedside table. your hole clenches around his fingers and you throb at the sight of the weapon. without hesitation you open your mouth, drool pooling on the edge of your lips as he shoves the gun into your mouth. you gasp, shocked by the cold sensation of the metal against your tongue. you can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the coil in your abdomen squeezing tighter by the second.

suddenly, striker pulls his hand away, relishing in the muffled, needy whimper that slips past your lips. "aw, d'worry poppet," he chuckles, pumping his cock a few times before aligning himself with your hole. "i'd never leave ya unsatisfied". striker thrusted in slowly, watching as your aching hole swallows his cock in a vice-like grip. "o-oh!" you gasp airily, thighs clamping around his waist as you claw down his back. striker begins to move, slowly but surely thrusting into you as you adjust to his size. it takes everything in him not to loose all restraint and fuck you senseless, especially with the way your moaning his name like a prayer. your hole was tightening around him and your wanton moans grew louder and louder, signifying that you were close.

you clench around him impossibly tight, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "striker- oh fuucnghh-" you gasp, your words muffled by the gun stil in your mouth as the coil in your abdomen snaps. your mind went perfectly blank as you ride out your high, striker cursing up a storm as his orgasm follows immediately after you. he pulls out, spilling his seed onto your stomach and chest.

striker gently pulls the gun from your mouth as you come down from your euphoric high, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes and gently massaging your sore jaw.

"y'okay, bubs?" striker asked, gently cupping your face as he collapses beside you. "mhm," you murmur, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his nose. "just a lil' tired..." striker chuckles at your reply, gently kissing your forehead. suddenly, an idea struck you, and you crawl on top of him. striker watches you with amusement as you straddle him, his teeth glinting in the moonlight streaming in from outside your window.

"not too tired for round two, i see," striker snarks, and you shush him. "if you want to cum, then i suggest you stop talking," you reply, and striker swallows hard. "yes m'am/sir," he whispers, wetting his lips as you grind down against him. "i promise i'll behave," he murmurs, eyes glistening with lust as his hands travel to grip your thighs. "we'll see about that," you reply, already knowing your in for a long night.

I HAD TO HYPE MYSELF UP FOR THIS ONE 😭 this will probably have a pt2 w sub striker cuz i cant resist the opportunity- sorry i haven't posted in like a week ive been fighting demons (anxiety and burnout 😭) but i really wanted to finish this! i have a few more wips that will be posted soon, and im considering adding marvel/the mcu to the list of fandoms i write for cuz ive been falling back into my marvel phase lmao. ANYWAYSSSS I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!!

84 notes · View notes

kentoberry · 2 years

Text

BITTERSWEET — kamisato ayato.

pairings ⭒ crime boss ! ayato x f reader.

about ⭒ your husband, leader of the shuumatsuban crime syndicate, may be good at his job, but he’s been neglecting his poor wife.

content ⭒ [ 18+ ; minors do not interact ] ⭒ established relationship ⭒ very mild angst ⭒ mentions of violence (including vague allusions to murder) ⭒ light brat taming ⭒ pet names ⭒ dubcon in parts ⭒ gunplay ⭒ threats ⭒ degradation ⭒ name calling ⭒ p-ssy spanking ⭒ mentions of a mindbreak ⭒ dumbification ⭒ c-rvix kissing ⭒ creampie.

your husband always seemed to prioritize work over your relationship. take the untouched home-cooked meals that you had prepared for him, for example, now forming a small village of stacked tupperware boxes in the refrigerator. you would sit and look pretty during meetings with subordinates, like his perfect lap dog. the business bored you, yet you had picked up a couple of tricks here and there.

tuning back into the conversation midway, the topic concerning some issues with the transportations of unlawful goods. thoma, your husband’s right-hand man, made a point of how they should go about it, one that seemed fair. ayato must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, for he was in disagreement.

“but sir, i’m sure you understand why we can’t just-” thoma rambled in attempt to reason with the boss.

“you can, and you will.” ayato’s tone remained calm and collected, sharp gaze enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone in the room. well, almost everyone - you were unfazed. though his hand rest on his signature white revolver on the table, you saw a perfect opportunity to gain the full attention of your lover.

“thoma is right, darling.”

his head snapped around to face you, indigo irises narrowing as he shot you a warning glare. you continued nonetheless: “don’t make a stupid decision.”

the room was silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. thoma was silently pleading with you to shut up, but you knew ayato would never do anything to actually harm you. plus, from the parts of the conversation that you had heard, your husband did seem to be acting rather rash. not even the clicking of his gun was enough to stop you from your last blow to his ego.

“you’re better than this.”

ayato saw red. he’d never expecting his darling to talk back to him in such manner, humiliating him in front of his people.

“fine.” he kept it short and snappy, his piercing stare remaining trained on you. “thoma can handle it. everyone out.”

the shufflings of papers and rustling of bodies exiting the room couldn’t even distract him from you. your expression remained as aloof as ever, as if you were challenging the man, trying to coax a reaction from him (the latter of which was most definitely true).

once the last person had exited and closed the door behind them, ayato chose to speak.

“i knew it was only a matter of time before you forgot your place,” venom laced his words, making you feel like the leader of a rival syndicate rather than his devoted wife. he let out an exasperated sigh, indicating that he lacked the time for your bullshit. “being quiet never was your strong suit, was it?”

“aya-”

“no. i don’t care. whatever stupid reason you had, i’m sure i can make you forget it.”

ayato picked up his piece, as if measuring its weight in his large hand. the golden decals shone in the faint light, highlighting how pristine the white shade remained despite having been used on some… messy occasions.

“strip.”

your eyes widened. his lackeys had only just left, surely they would overhear! there was no way you were going to be put in such a compromising, risky situation. your apparent ineptitude prompted ayato to grip a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. “you heard me. if you want to act like a brat, i’ll treat you like one.”

“i’m not going to-”

instead of using his words, ayato only used his free hand to direct the barrel of his gun into your mouth. just as intended, it indeed shut you up. he chuckled as drool began to pool in your mouth, only for him to force the weapon further back in your throat. “cat got your tongue?”

instead of taking his time to undress you, ayato settled for tearing on the neckline of your shirt until it split in two. he slipped you out of your bra with a single hand, the other keeping his gun in place. the man relented for a mere moment before clambering to get you sat on the table.

“suck.” he commanded, returning the revolver to your lips. he was only met with your pleading eyes, imploring him not to do this. you were beginning to regret speaking up, but the slight glint in his eyes told you that you were in for a good time either way.

ayato kept the barrel of his gun touching your lips as he collected a glob of spit together in his mouth. his height allowed for him to tower over you, giving him the perfect angle to carry out his next action. before you could so much as blink, ayato spat directly into your mouth. whether out of shock or anticipation, you made no move to swallow, instead awaiting instructions that never came. ayato forced his weapon back into your throat, its muzzle causing you to gag. you were filled with the fear that he could pull the trigger at any time, even though you knew he would never go that far. one quick “click!” and you’d be covering the table.

“i said, suck.”

you did precisely as he bid, tongue swirling around the cool metal barrel and tracing over the decals. you looked up at your husband with wide eyes, as if begging for some degree of mercy.

he watched your helpless maneuvers for but a moment before growing bored. ayato flipped the skirt you were wearing up, lithe fingers caressing your already prevalent arousal.

“all this, just for me? hmm? does my nasty girl get off from having a loaded gun pointed at her?”

of course, you couldn’t respond. you could only whine, but even then the revolver muffled your sounds. ayato only continued to mock you, bullying you for being so wet when he hadn’t shown you so little as an ounce of kindness. he forced you to continue sucking on the metal whilst he stroked your drooling cunt over the fabric, barely offering any friction.

the pathetic noises that crawled out of your throat made you sound stupid. ayato didn’t have time for your sounds as he became increasingly desperate to break you enough and put you back into your place. surely a slap or two would help silence his mutt. his palm came into contact with lacey barrier keeping you from him, aim as perfect as ever. you let out a little shriek, not expecting the action. still, you could feel yourself growing both dumber and needier with each smack. your cunt throbbed, aching for more attention.

you were relieved at the unobstructed breath you took once ayato finally relented, barely noticing the saliva that spilled onto your chest.

ayato dropped the gun back to the table. even if the thought crossed your mind to grab it and usurp your husband, he didn’t give you the time. whilst you were recovering from having your throat invaded with his weapon, ayato peeled your panties to the side. he cared not to undress himself, simply freeing his stiff cock from its confines. the man teased your puckering hole with the flushed tip of his length, eliciting a couple of wanton moans as your cunt made futile attempts to pull him in.

“you might want to stay quiet, princess. i’m sure my men are still within close proximity to the room.”

and with that statement, he sunk himself into your sloppy heat. he bottomed out in a single thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust. your husband knew your body well enough to elicit the most sinful of sounds as he thrust into you, bulbous tip kissing your cervix. ayato brought himself closer to your ear just to whisper: “wouldn’t want someone to overhear now, would we? or do i need to put a gun to your head just to keep you quiet?”

already feeling a little dumb on his cock, even you didn’t anticipate the pretty little mewl that dripped from your lips at the threat. with a little “disgusting slut,” and a quick flick of his wrist, you found the cool barrel of his gun against your temple. ayato used the weapon to shift your hair out of the way, the metal contrasting the warmth of your skin.

“’m sorry,” you whined, never breaking eye contact with the man. possessiveness coursed through his veins, proud that he could treat you so poorly yet you would still come running back to him, weak and docile.

you chewed on your bottom lip in attempt to restrain your lewd moans, simply taking what ayato gave you at this point. he continued to plunge into your sloppy cunt, molding and stretching your cushiony walls into the perfect shape for him. you could feel every bump and curve of his cock, just as he could of your insides. ayato hit your sweet spots without fail, his length already twitching due to how well you sucked him in.

“such a fucking whore, getting fucked like this,” ayato’s sentences grew less and less put together, hinting that he was nearing his peak. “want me to get thoma back in here, hmm? let my men watch you go dumb on my dick?” he punctuated each question with a tap to your cervix, forcibly enough that you were sure it’d bruise. “my pathetic slut, going to cum for me, bitch?"

gentle nods were your only response, feeling the heat in your stomach building up rapidly. once again, he let a glob of spit fall onto you, this time directed to your cunt. ayato’s free hand snaked between your legs to toy with your swollen clit, massaging tight circles around the puffy nub. his ministrations furious enough to make you clench yet skilled enough to not cause any overwhelming pain. it was becoming increasingly difficult to support yourself, leaning slightly into the muzzle of the gun pressed against you for aid.

”be a good fucking girl and cum for me.“

the sparse hints of praise were a welcomed change, tipping you over the edge as ayato fucked you through your high. you tried your best to stay quiet, like he had asked, although a few gorgeous whines escaped their restraints.

the feeling of your heavenly cunt contracting around his cock was enough to push ayato to release too, shooting strings of his milky seed inside of you. heavy breaths filled the room for a moment, with him remaining sheathed inside of your heat. the man finally put down his gun, opting for pulling you closer to him.

the tender kiss he placed to your forehead communicated all that you needed to know: despite tonight’s events, he still loved and cared for you, and he appreciated how you allowed him to be rough with you, to use your body as a stress relief from the hectic life that he’d been born into. it acted as a reminder of every promise he’d ever made you, to protect you with his life no matter what.

your husband let you collapse into him, cock keeping your creamy cunt plugged with his cum whilst you calmed down. one hand interlaced his fingers with your own, large digits fiddling with the ring that he’d given to you all those years ago. he pledge to himself to be around you more, for he’d missed soft moments like this. you were his oasis amongst a life of unsteadiness and uncertainty, the only place where he could let his guard down. he whispered a gentle ”i love you,“ into your hair, walls collapsing as he held you tightly. he never failed to be amazed when you whispered a little ”love you too“ in response.

#kentoberryposts #kamisato ayato smut #ayato x you #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #kamisato ayato #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader

2K notes · View notes

bloodcasket · 1 year

Note

I have no idea if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do a smut fic of dom!ellie x fem! Reader. Where the reader left ellie in Jackson to go join the wolves, so now they're exs. At some point, they meet up again as ellie is out on patrol, and she kidnaps the reader and interrogates her on where baby's where abouts are? It would be great if it could be kinky as hell and maybe a threat of her gun on the reader, but whatever you are comfterble with, really! I love your work, you write ellie so well!.

FOUND YOU

PAIRING: Ellie Williams x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, prey/predator, nonconsensual touching, slight gunplay, threatening behavior, Dom!Ellie, bondage, Ellie kidnaps the reader, darker descriptions of Ellie, violence, ex-girlfriend Ellie.

WC: 3,008

DESCRIPTION: You leave a mark on Ellie after you leave Jackson to join the wolves. With her heart freshly broken, and her head full of rage, she makes a plan to search for you, and this time, she would get some answers.

A/N: I do take requests so no worries love! Your request is one of the best I've ever gotten omg, thank you so much for letting me write it. 🖤 I love writing darker Ellie fics, this is such a perfect concept. Hope you enjoy it, thank you again for your wonderful idea, and sorry for being so late! <3

It had all happened so fast. Too fast for you or the group you traveled with to comprehend. A massacre that had been displayed right before your eyes. The blaring sounds of pistols and other weaponry had echoed through the air, still ringing freshly in your ears. Ringing with the chime of demise.

You couldn’t comprehend much, only utter fear and the rich course of adrenaline that had struck you. With a quick dash of your feet, you stumbled and fell underneath the coverage of a pile of rubbish, the towers of cardboard boxes and boards of wood had hidden you.

“There’s a girl! Don’t let her escape!” you can remember them yelling at you, their eyes so full of life and strive just moments before their tragic end.

You kneeled in the wet mud, your lips drawn in a thin line, and your eyebrows creased as you processed the situation. They were all dead. Every last one of them. Their bodies were limp amongst the wet ground, the rain downpouring from the sky had sloshed away the grime and thickening blood that coated their still figures. It was petrifying to see. Even more petrifying knowing you had been the last. You trembled at that brutal thought.

The last life to be taken.

“I know you’re out there”, the voice of a women draws closer, initiating a terrible fate for you. “Come out, you fucking coward!”, she sounds like a bloodthirsty fiend, waiting to brutally attack. Her voice held a wicked similarity, and it gave you gooseflesh. You didn’t understand why.

Her steps are near as you stay crouched against thin patches of grass, your shaking eyes searching around you in hopes to find an escape plan. There had been multiple areas with a possible gateway to safety, but there were chances she would catch you before you reached them. Your feet would be too loud, and you would be in line of sight if you even thought of sneaking across the road.

So, with best interest, you eyed the deteriorating house to your left, examining the windows. The ones on the lower floor had been broken, glass shattered and littered across the desolate lawn.

Maybe, you could sneak through the wrecked windows and slip through the house toward the backyard. There was no guarantee in this matter though, and chances of the homicidal maniac catching you was high, but it was better than nothing. You would do what the rest of the WLF hadn’t done. Run. Run for your life.

With a racing heart and a jagged breath arising from your throat, you positioned your feet. You gave it a couple of seconds, listening closely to the way your enemy pattered around in the wet street, trying best to predict when you should really make a run for it. You readied yourself, repeating prayers of hope in your brain.

Another step closer, and then another, and then…you bolted, the soles of your shoes becoming slick against the brackish mud-water, almost causing you to slip from your recklessness, but you caught yourself just in time. You were dashing toward the open windows, your feet accelerating you from a velocity you never imagined you could reach before, but it all made sense from your reaction, as you soon heard another pair of feet charging up from behind you. Pure panic had carried you.

“Get back here! Don’t you fucking run!”, she curses for what feels like the hundredth time, showing she’s finally caught you after desperately searching for you. Fortunately for you, you’ve already taken grip of the rotting window ledge, jumping through the gap, and falling to your knees as you land inside. You brace yourself as you scramble to your feet, expecting the malicious women to jump inside with you, but instead, everything is quiet.

There is no cursing, no pistols blazing, and not even the slightest sound of feet shuffling. It was all too good to be true to think you had lost the girl, but you still credited yourself for successfully making it inside. It was almost comedic to assume you duped the one who annihilated every wolf on your patrol.

It all didn’t matter anymore though. Here you were, and you were alive. What was important was finding a way out now, and far away from this battlefield of bloodshed.

Cautiously, you snuck through the collapsing house, your soft palms holding tightly onto the splintering walls as you watched your every corner, just waiting for something to grab you. Every creak and wail of the wooden floorboards sent a rupture of horror through you, and you paused in-between steps, swallowing your paranoia just for it to repeat once more.

‘Where did she go?’ is what you were thinking with utter vexation. ‘Did she really just let me escape?’.

Every turn was another hall of swallowing darkness, and a putrid smell had lingered in the house, almost as if it was aged from all the water bubbling up in the ceiling. The house was a maze of terrors, and mother nature had taken its course with it. Vines were crawling against every crevice or surface, ripping apart the wallpaper. The once velvety couch that sat in the living room was now torn and tattered, its cushions soiled and veiled with dust.

It is sad to imagine what this house used to hold, what caused such a comforting place to become such a horrific landscape for you.

Light pooled into a room as you entered it, yet another broken window to crawl through. This time, it was one that could lead you to the back. Just the thought alone made your heart race, mostly from accomplishment. You crept closer, all your intimidating theories dissipating into nothingness as your eyes took view of the outside again.

But, freedom came just as quick as it left, being that two hands lurched from the darkness and scooped you up into its haunting embrace, whispering "Found you".

“Quiet” she mumbled into your ear; her breath hot against your skin. You shook like a leaf against her tight hold, feeling her draw bruises into your forearm as she made sure you had no chance to escape. “Easy,” you managed to squeak, wondering why she hadn’t slit your throat yet.

“I told you to be quiet” she snarled once more, and just like that, a pulsing sensation rippled through you and to your neck, aching terribly until it became numb there. The light from the window cascaded into a hazy image, and the world around you soon faded to pitch black.

The sound of faint muttering is what wakes you, and your once sealed eyes flutter open, soaking in the atmosphere that lies around you. It is a bleak room, a couple of toolboxes flipped over in a corner, its supplies spilling out and rusting against the concrete ground. It’s so grey and depressing, and you’ve come to realize that this grim room is indeed a basement. The basement?

You search around desperately to find an answer as to why you were in here, or as to what happened. All you can fathom is the fact that you tried to escape, and you quickly got caught. But what else? You can’t remember what happened after that. Only the deep ache that has swelled up on your nape remains, reminding you that someone else was here with you. Watching you.

You attempt to move, but to no avail. Gnarly knots of itching rope were bound around your frail wrists, as well as your ankles, and with every twist and squirm you initiated, the pain only became worse. You had been tied, and forced to sit upon an old, decrepit chair. You were practically trapped.

“You awake?” a voice calls out to you questioningly, knocking you from your cocoon of shock. Your eyes turn to look in front of you, the once burning fury ignited in them faltered as the girl in front of you settled in your vision. A lump formed in your throat as you saw her standing there, the glint in her green eyes being oh-so-familiar.

She was a sight you had never imagined seeing again, but as you rationalize the situation, you think about your small observations prior. Her guttural shouts of fury, and her curses that rung through the air. How could you have not noticed sooner? You were ashamed for being so slow, or for not even catching a glimpse of who had slaughtered the whole WLF squad quicker.

“Ellie? What the hell is going on?” you whimpered with much confusion, locking eyes with her sharp ones. In her right hand she clutched the grip of her hunting pistol, the sound of the steel rattling in her tightening palms.

It was questionable as to why your ex-lover was here, but even more questionable knowing she was responsible for tying you in this demented basement, making you vulnerable to any of her wicked plans she brewed. It was a few weeks back that you left her, and it was understandable for her rage, but you never could predict a situation like this.

She used to be so sweet and nurturing, with her gentle smile and her mellow words, but now she resembled everything but that. All the memories of her affection and tenderness were washed away as she stalked towards you, a prevalent frown on her face.

“What the hell is going on with me?” the auburn-haired girl scoffed, now right upon you with her knees flush against yours “you gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you?”. She towered over your jittering form, watching you wiggle against the bound ropes with sneering amusement. Mostly from the acknowledgement that she held the power here.

Just minutes ago, you swore you had outdone her, but now here you sat, wrapped up and ensnared in her game of questionnaire. You understood it all now. She was here to seek answers as to why you left Jackson, and why you decided to join the wolves.

You are silent for mere seconds, feeling an unwelcoming mixture of stress and pain from the material that was turning your wrists raw. You opened your mouth before hesitantly closing it, not knowing how to tell Ellie the truth.

It was only until the cold barrel of a firearm pressed against the center of your forehead, causing you to start mumbling gibberish to your impatient ex-girlfriend. She only pressed further, the pressure of her gun slightly tilting your face back.

“I had no choice Ellie, they threatened me” you gasped, almost incoherently, “I didn’t have time to come back for you, it would cost my life”. The gun doesn’t leave your skin as the aggravated woman leans down to level her face with yours, her eyes slightly ajar and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Bullshit” she seems to not believe a word you say. “I swear” you fight back, insisting with a guilty quiver on your lips. She twists the pistol against you, grounding it into your precious flesh and watching your pores leak sweat with every push. One wrong word, and you swore she would pull the trigger, no matter what significance you had.

“You’re coming back with me” you gulp at her words, shrinking underneath her alluring stare, “let’s just forget this ever fucking happened. You belong back at Jackson-“. She pauses briefly, finally removing the weapon from your temple. There is an aggravated patch of skin marked there, the lining of the barrel engraved into your face.

“You belong with me, not those assholes” she finally continues, her tone stern and speaking those last words with offense. She stands there in front of you, awaiting another response. You soak in her last words, your body flush and sore from your futile attempts to escape.

“I don’t think I can” you shake your head at her in disbelief, “I could get killed-“

“Shut it” the way her octave lowers fills you with apprehension, her expression molding into something you can only deem to be malevolent. Unsatisfied by your answer, she paces back and forth, her sight still locked on you. Her converse scrape against the concrete with every step, the sound of the rubber permeates through the dank room with each glide of friction.

“I-fuck” her index finger is curling around the slope of the trigger, her tone proving how she’s not taking your reaction well, “don’t you love me?”.

Why was she doing this? Standing here, asking you this? Hadn’t she just provoked you with a firearm pressing into your head?

You’re silent for yet another time, the ridiculousness of her question seeming too foolish to even respond to. Of course, you had loved her. The many nights you lay with the soldiers, you would think back to Jackson. The simple nights spent with her. It was shattering knowing innocent moments like that were eradicated and left in the past.

This is the issue though.

You would try to move on, but Ellie? Her measly act of being casual and composed was easy to break, especially when it came to things like this. She refused to forget, to move on. What a vengeful mindset she had.

“Fuck it” with a huff from her chest, she thrusted her leg forward, her shoe colliding with the rotten leg of the chair you sat on and kicking it off without issue. For a second, only a creak was heard, and then, you felt wind brush along your back as you toppled downward and onto the dirty ground. The wooden leg was dismantled and split in two as it lay beside your head.

You bellowed out a cry of agony from the sudden action, the swelling ache centered on your nape only enrichening. You took too long to answer, and this was your punishment. God forbid what she does next.

“Why are you doing this? Just- please, just untie me” she circles you as you sob, listening intently to every syllable you speak as she lowers on her knees next to your glistening face. The whites of your eyes now red and irritated, and your pupils blown.

She almost felt bad for interrogating you. To see your face so full of fear is heartbreaking, but she was infuriated. She was devout to you, loved you with everything she had. To wake up and see you gone was everything but merry, and it continued. For weeks. You deserved this.

“Your last chance” she mutters, a perk in her lips after she says it. You swallow hardly, “last chance before what?”, and she shows you.

She arises from her crouched position to stand over your powerless form, her foot moving to shove in-between your sealed thighs.

“Tell me the truth” her shoe dips down provocatively, grinding circles into the seam where your cunt stays clothed. “You missed me, didn’t you? I bet you thought about me a lot, huh?” the lip of her converse is firm against your heat, pushing into you just enough for everything to burn into a teasing pleasure.

“I can make this easier for you if you just tell me-”

“Jesus- fuck Ellie! Yes, yes. I missed you a lot-stop it” your hands manage to squirm again as you whine, your raw flesh dissipating into numbness. Her prurient movements made you sensitive, and with every grind of friction her shoe gave, you felt your core vibrate a piercing pulse.

“And you regret going with those fucking wolves, right?” her voice is low as she talks, dragging a tongue across her lower lip as she taunts you. “I regret it!” you scream, thighs trembling as you tried best to squeeze against the unconsented torture Ellie was putting you through. “I regret leaving!” you repeat your words over and over, sighing shamelessly as you clench around nothing but burning heat for what feels like the hundredth time.

Forget the sense of rationality or composure now-Ellie had no problem in making you unravel from sensual acts, and how pretty you lay, thighs wrapped around her calve as you swallow her in.

It all became so embarrassingly arousing, the fear that seeped off you as your captor stands tall and concentrated, tempting you. Invigorating you. So wickedly close to grounding perfect circles into you all until she pulled away, a disgusted expression molding on her features.

Your head is lulled on the ground, grime smeared over the softness of your cheeks from your tossing and turning, and your chest heaving from your previous predicament. Was this truly her intention for capturing you? To weasel her way inside, make you melt like putty from her touch? A touch that you had been deprived of for a very long time? How agonizingly clever of her.

You can’t observe much from your position, but you can sense her monitoring eyes, feeling how they rake over your weakened state. You hear a faint sound of shuffling in the corner, and of fabric colliding with the ground.

“You’re gonna have to prove it to me” Ellie mumbles, lowering herself down onto your lap, her two thighs straddling your motionless hips. Freshly discarded of her pants, she wiggles herself further up the curve of your chest, her inner thighs purchasing themselves just above your shoulders.

You’ve given up with your fighting, your ankles and wrists too beaten and bruised to endure yet another twist of your muscles. You were sore everywhere, and heated with desire.

“If you don’t mess this up, I’ll let you go”. Her fingers move underneath her, slipping past the flesh of her inner thighs and toward the material of her beige-colored panties, hooking her index into it just enough for her to push the undergarment aside.

You can smell the sweat that is lingering on her skin, all from today’s events. Her arousal rich in your senses as she’s positioning herself over your lips, forcing you to submit to her.

“But, if you do” her voice is practically a groan as your lips brush against the silkiness of her clit, her juices already slick against your nose, “I’ll have to fuck you up”.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader

596 notes · View notes