#I watched house slam a man against the wall and hold him there by the cane to his throat and I was never the same | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barefoothighlander · 11 months

Note

Protective Ghost perhaps ?

Love me a protective hulk of a man and clapping my cheeks like a mad man 🫣

scary boyfriend privileges for real

warnings: mdni (18+), unwanted male attention, insinuation of assault, smut, unprotected pinv, est relationship, masturbation (fem), fingering, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, lil bit of choking, possessive!ghost, rank kink if u squint

"Hey, where are you?"

"Just at the house, Is everything alright love?" He can sense the panic in your voice through the phone,

"Everything's fine just, do you think you'd be able to pick me up?"

"Be there in 10"

He ends the call, leaving you to listen to the echoes of strangers in the streets, standing alone outside your office building, you didn't intend on working late but something had come up and you told Simon that you'd just walk home after work, it was only a few blocks to your shared flat.

At first, he blatantly refused the idea, arguing that he'd just pick you up even if it meant waiting around for a few hours when he already had plans, you argued back stating that it wouldn't be dark considering the sun wouldn't set till later, and the walk was short. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing to your terms of having your location on during your walk and keeping a finger on the pepper spray he had placed in your purse.

Everything was going fine until you actually stepped out of the office, ignorant to the fact that there was a football match that night, and the pubs would be littered with drunk patrons, shouting from every street corner. The echoes of their voices made you nervous, the fact that you didn't have your scary boyfriend to protect you made it worse, a small panic setting into your nerves as you picked at your nails.

You move to the curb to watch for his truck, eyes glazing over every pair of headlights that made their way down the street, tapping your foot in an effort to ease yourself.

"OI"

You turn your attention to the shout,

"Yea you, whatcha doin all alone out here love?" A man standing a few feet away begins walking towards you, even from the distance you can smell the alcohol on him, turning away to ignore him.

"Ah c'mon then, just tryna have a chat"

"M'not interested, sorry"

"Inna chat? Don't worry I won't bite"

You take a few steps back as the man gets closer, invading your space as he continues to speak,

"Don't have to be a priss, just wondering why a pretty lil thing like you s'all alone"

"I'm waiting for someone" You nervously dart your eyes around, willing Simon to appear,

He stumbles closer "You gotta boyfriend?"

"Yep" You cross your arms over your chest, walking backwards as the man continues to get closer

"Bet I'd treat ya better, wouldn't let you walk around all alone" He drags out the last word, staring directly at you,

"You know, I'm just gonna walk, have a good night" You turn to walk down the street, moving at a rushed pace,

"I'll walk you home" He moves in tandem with you

"No that's alright, I'll manage"

Your body freezes as his hand makes contact with your arm, tugging you back a step as he grips the skin, "Why've you got to be such a bitch?"

You try to pull your arm from his hold, "Excuse me?"

"Just tryna be nice"

"You're hurting me" Your body is in full panic, your mind racing as the man's stare pins you down, his grip firing you backwards until your back collides with the wall.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if you played along"

His words make your chest feel hollow, your eyes moving to avoid his gaze before they land on a pair of headlights in front of you, the slam of a car door breaking your focus as you let out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend moving towards you.

In a flash the man is off you, Simon's grip around his collar as he pins him to the wall, the back of his head hitting against the stone as you gasp.

"Si-"

"Get the fuck out of here"

The stranger's eyes widen at the sight of the masked man, Simon's large form dwarfing his as his arm holds his shirt tight around his neck, Simon releases him, the man gasping for air, sparing you a final look before rushing down the street.

"I'm sorry I-"

He cuts you off, "Get in the car"

You spend the short ride home in silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on, the tension in the air palpable as you let yourself out of the truck, following behind Simon as he makes his way into the house.

You flinch as he slams the door behind him,

"M'not mad at you" His voice comes from behind you

"I know"

You watch as he storms toward the bedroom in a fury, his fists clenched as he breezes by you. following him through the room. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits in a chair, alone in the corner facing the bed, his legs spread as his hands settle on the arms of the seat.

"Take your clothes off"

You do as he says, nervous fingers working to remove your shirt before reaching for the belt on your pants, tugging them down your legs,

"All your clothes"

You stand naked before him, his eyes roaming over your form, his stare making goosebumps rise on your skin,

"Get on the bed"

You sit on the edge of the mattress, shuffling your body backwards as you rest against your arms,

"I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me"

Your throat dries at his words, your eyes looking for some sign of sympathy but there's nothing behind the mask, doing as you're told you snake a hand down your torso, settling your fingers against your clit, cursing yourself at how wet you already were.

You work your fingers around the bud, keeping your gaze locked on him as pleasure blossoms in your chest, your heels digging into the sheets as you find a rhythm.

He doesn't say anything but you can see the strain on his knuckles as he grips the armrests of the chair, his pants growing tighter with every moan that falls from your lips. You're teetering on the edge but it's not enough,

"Simon, please,"

"Your fingers not enough?"

You shake your head, "Need you"

"Need me to what?"

"Need you to fuck me, please"

He wastes no time in standing from the chair, practically tearing his pants down before his hands grip your waist, flipping you with ease so that your chest presses against the mattress, your cheek digging into the sheets as he presses his length against you.

He groans at the feeling of your weeping pussy against his length, his palms spreading you so he can get a better view,

“So fucking perfect, you gonna be good for me?”

You wriggle your hips for him, “Yes, all for you”

“Good girl” He drags his palm along the length of your spine, settling his fingers around the nape of your neck as he lines himself up, teasing his head through your folds, collecting your slick before inserting himself.

He bottoms out with a grunt, his pubic bone pressing against your ass as he leans over your form, caging you and forcing you to take every inch of him. You whimper below him, begging him to move as he holds himself still inside you.

He pulls himself nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing a yelp from you as he begins pumping into your pussy, your slick gathering around his shaft as his cock splits you open.

“So fuckin tight love”

His fingers dig into your waist with a bruising grip, holding you still as he thrusts into you, you can feel the coil inside you still burning but it’s still not enough,

“Si, please, need more”

His hand reaches around your neck, pulling you from the bed so your back is flush with his chest, his fingers teasing on your pulse point. He snakes his other hand around to toy with your clit, you clench down on him as he makes contact, his rough fingers circling the bud.

“Can’t cum unless it’s me huh?”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut,

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Si, fuck”

“Not good enough” His hand constricts around your throat

You struggle to find your words, his cock driving into you from below, “It’s yours Lieutenant, only yours”

“Much better” His hand releases your throat allowing you to gasp for air in between your moans, your orgasm threatening to erupt from inside you.

His hands knead at your breasts, teasing and pinching the raised buds as his fingers work in tandem with his strokes, you reach behind you to touch him, to grab anything to ground yourself , your fingers settling on the hem of his mask.

“That’s it love, soak my cock, show me how good I make you feel”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire as all your muscles tense, Ghosts moans fill your ears as your pussy clenches down on him, his hips stuttering for a moment as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you come down he pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of contact as his hands find their way back to your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

You wrap your limbs around him, holding him to you as he pushes deep inside you, his face is inches from yours, his eyes glued to where you meet.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy, maybe i’ll fuck a baby into you, s’that what you want? Want everyone to see your stomach grow with my fuckin seed? Let them know who you belong to?”

His gaze turns to you, his dark eyes staring back at you, you struggle to form a response, your hand moving to tug at the hem of his mask as your hooded eyes watch him. Like he’s reading your mind he tears the mask off in seconds, revealing his face to you, his rosy cheeks and plump lips, the way his jaw clenches with every thrust.

“I’m yours, only yours”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your moans as he kisses you, rough and messy as your arms snake around his neck, holding him to you.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight beautiful”

“Cum in me Si, need to feel you”

He watches your eyes fill with lust, your soaking pussy swallowing him as he bottoms out, your heels dig into his back as he spills his seed into you, coating your walls.

“Fuckin hell” He holds himself inside you as he finishes, his softening cock holding his cum deep in your pussy as he leans in for another kiss, it’s more tender this time.

He pulls out of you slowly, pushing up the bed and lying back as his arms tug you to him, your legs tangling with him as your hands find their spot on his chest.

“M’sorry”

His fingers thread through your hair, “S’not your fault love”

“I know I just feel stupid”

“You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that”

You give a small hun in response,

“I would’ve killed him”

“I know”

“Like terrible, awful, excruciating pain kinda murder”

You huff a small laugh in response, knowing that he was deadly serious as you push yourself from his side, your palms nudging him over,

“C’mon go get dressed for bed”

4K notes · View notes

devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @sallymilkweed @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @ayehomo @dzaga890 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @cilliansangel @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0

TAGS WILL CONTINUE IN A REBLOG (there are simply too many of you & I don’t want this post to crash <3)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou

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yuutasprincess · 7 months

Text

Day 1: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, primal play, Yuuta's sweet but also male manipulating you

The doors are locked, of course they are- every night you make sure to twist the knob. You hold your breath, making sure the faint noise from your phone is muted and all that exists within the house is the sound of your heart pumping in your chest.

There’s a pause, silence. The door is locked, nothing is inside the house except you.

Outside, the street lamps cast their glow across the deserted yard, blocking any view of the desolate neighborhood. There's no one in sight, and the only sounds are the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the periodic rustling of leaves. It's a typical night, with the neighborhood slowly succumbing to darkness as the clock strikes 10. Curtains are drawn, windows are sealed shut, and doors are locked to keep whatever resides out.

Inside the house his shoulders sag. Back pressed to the locked door, how he got inside is no one’s business but his. He stays still for a frozen moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the dark as he watches shadows dance.

No one is outside. The man has found his home for the night.

Yuuta stands tall, lips sealed, he simply watches, taking in all the details of your home: the unfolded blankets on the couch, dishes drying in the sink, and the pair of shoes carelessly tossed by the entrance where he now stands. He thinks it’s a lovely home, he’s never been inside. His chest swells with an odd sense of contentment as he continues to stand motionless, he is inside your house.

The grip of paranoia keeps you awake, your body tightly tucked under the blankets, phone clutched to your chest. Your eyes refuse to shut, and you anxiously await the appearance of a ghost in the doorway. You tell yourself it's just your imagination, but then you hear it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Then it’s rushed footsteps, heavy, pounding footsteps and the sound of someone crashing into your walls and shaking the house. You swallow your fear and force yourself out of bed, stumbling into the closet and grasping anything that could be used as a weapon.

He can’t contain himself any longer, his cheeks round and lips pulled as he smiles while marching up your stairs. Yuuta’s far from discreet, his ragged breaths and the slam of your bedroom door echoing, the weight of the doorknob creating a hole in the wall from the force. He’s practically panting in the doorway, hair clinging to his forehead, he raises a thumb to the corner of his tilted lips.

“Anyone home?”

He laughs to himself, flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes unsettling as he makes his way to your bed. He flings the blankets aside, crawling onto the warm spot where your body lay just moments ago, its imprint still visible in the mattress.

"I know you're here," Yuuta whispers into the oppressive silence of the room. He digs his face into your pillows, fingers gripping the material as he sniffs loudly. It's disgusting, the way his eyes roll into his skull and how his hips stutter into your bed at your smell.

The only thing keeping you from screaming is the hand you’ve slapped over your mouth, fingers curling into the skin of your cheek as you watch with bated breath. He makes a mess of your bed, tossing your blankets to the floor and rising with a heavy thud as he runs his hands through his hair. You think you might get to laugh about this in a couple years when telling the story, some creep who broke in but didn’t do anything except lay in your bed.

With knees tucked to your chest you watch him move around the space, fingers tapped rhythmically against various surfaces as he avoids the closet. Your own trembling fingers hover over your phone, help on speed dial, while you clench your teeth, jaw tight, trying to suppress your tears.

Then, silence.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled out of the closet, leaving your phone behind, as his hand firmly covers yours over your mouth. His other hand cradled the back of your head, and for a horrifying moment, you imagined him crushing your skull. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gaze at him, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, hair falling across his face.

He breathes heavy, hot air fanning your face. “There you are pretty girl,” he’s practically cooing at you while you cry.

You're terrified, not sure what he wants but not willing to let him do whatever he plans. Clawing and kicking, you fought to break free from his grasp, letting out sobs as you bolted out of the room. Your feet slid across the floor, thighs burning as you raced down the stairs, taking each step two at a time. He pursued you, eerily silent, and although you couldn't hear him, you could feel his presence, his fingers brushing against the back of your shirt, and his lunging attempts to grab you.

He follows you quietly through the house while you stumble and push things aside trying to reach the front door. Your body slamming into the wall as you cry out twisting the knob.

It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, you lock the door every night. You make sure of it.

Thoughts finally enter your mind as you try to push towards the kitchen, the rack of knives practically reassuring you. He grabs you, not too tight but effective in keeping your arms pinned to your sides. He pressed his body against yours, wedging you between him and the door, gently shushing your cries. His chin resting on your head as you pleaded with him, promising not to reveal his face, not to tell anyone, begging for your life.

He tosses you over his shoulder with ease, hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he grins over his shoulder watching you wail. “I’m not going to hurt you sweet girl, you’ll feel real good in a second.” gripping your ankles he keeps you from kicking at him, the shaky hits against his back doing little to nothing to deter him.

Laying you onto the couch he’s quick to rest his weight over you, knee between your thighs and hands keeping your arms against your head. “Cute” his nose runs up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent and licking at a sensitive spot under your jaw. His touch is dirty, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kisses at your neck and bites the skin softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you anxious.

Releasing his grip on you, he rises to his knees, his gaze fixed firmly upon your heaving form. “Don’t move alright? I don’t want to have to force you still.” His eyes never leave you, jaw tight while glaring through fat tears, stomach churning as you watch the way his thick fingers idly tug at his belt.

In that moment, your instincts kick into high gear—fight or flight takes over. Your body scrambles to break free, and you manage to slip your legs out from under him, delivering a hard kick to his side before bolting away. Hands grabbing ornamental decoration on the table and sending glass shattering his way. Your mind races ahead of your body as you reach for the kitchen door, hand instinctively finding the knife left on the counter. Shaky fingers gripping the heavy handle as you glance back to see him rising from the couch with a frown before you’re out the door.

In the dimly lit room, Yuuta's laughter fills the doorway. He stands there, one hand on his hip, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he casually runs his fingers through his hair. His belt dangles from his free hand as he watches you, the thrill of having you apparent in his eyes. A chase wasn't what he had in mind for tonight, but he can't resist the allure of your determination and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight, he decides to play along.

The treeline at the end of the block is a promising escape route. Your plan is to cut straight through the woods, finding your way to the main road where you can seek help. The only thing preventing you from pounding on a neighbor's door for help is the unsettling sight of those piercing blue eyes fixed upon you from your own front lawn. He's playing with you, casually biting the end of his thumb, watching you like a predator stalking its prey.

Determined, you rush into the woods, heart pounding as you leave behind any trace of him. You slow your pace to a brisk walk, inhaling the crisp air to soothe your burning lungs and alleviate the ache in your thighs. Feet numb as the lack of shoes settles into your brain, keep going- don’t stop. “Fuck. fuck!” The watery curses under your breath is all you can do to resolve the blood boiling anger you feel as you step over dirt.

To Yuuta, you’re the most darling thing he’s ever seen. The way you clutch the knife like a lifeline and attempt to muffle your breath, straining to hear his movements, is utterly endearing. He could just eat you up. He bites at the skin around his fingernails, eyes unblinking as he watches you start to speed up and waits for an opportunity to have you. As if he can wait.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes at the corner of your vision, deftly disarming you before you tumble into the unforgiving soil. The sensation of sticky leaves and portrusing roots beneath you sends a shiver down your spine, you clench your fists. “What the fuck do you want!” You try to roll over to stand but his converse nudge at your side to force you onto your back. Legs moving so his shoes are on either side of your hips while he toys with his belt.

He doesn’t answer you this time. Only pushes a thumb under the button of his pants with one hand and lets the material slip down, fingers pulling the elastic of his boxers before reaching in and pulling his leaking cock out. You don’t look. Hold your breath and turn your head with shut eyes as you choke on your own cries. Yuuta moves his shoe up to tap at your wet cheek softly, coaxing you into looking at him with the threat of a swift kick to your face. He’d never hurt you, but you don’t know that.

With watery eyes you watch him wrap his fingers around himself, the tip an angry red as he starts to slowly jack off on top of you, teeth tugging at his lower lip while he whines. Giving himself a couple of torturous pumps he teases his slit, thumbing at the pearly beads of precum before squatting down to bring it to your lips. His thumb tapping on your sealed lips before forcing you to taste him, it’s salty.

Yuuta's smile remains intact as he observes your reactions, an effortless "Good girl" slipping from his lips as you suddenly whip your head back, pulling his thumb away from your tongue. The look of infatuation in his eyes never wavers, not even when you desperately attempt to kick his feet away from your hips, or when you unleash a barrage of curses and screams until your throat burns raw. And most definitely not as you lie there, utterly helpless, with his belt securely fastened around your wrists, restricting them above your head.

Picking up the knife he knocked away from you he runs a finger over the dull end before pointing the tip at your collar. “Such a smart girl, my smart girl you really had me worried with this” dragging the knife under your night shirt he sucks his teeth and makes quick work of tearing the material to reveal your soft chest. Tossing the knife aside he falls to his knees and straddles your waist, one hand massaging your tit and other curving to fondle his heavy balls. He whines desperately over your cries, fingers pinching at your nipple until it’s hard and moving to the other one.

Goosebumps spread over your clenching stomach, body trying to sink into the ground away from his touch. “You’re so beautiful, so soft.” Yuuta's hand falls from his aching cock, fingers skimming the cold skin of your abdomen until they brush the edge of your sleep shorts to pull them down. Flipping you onto your stomach with your face in the dirt he adjusts your hips up.

Legs moving to keep yours spread as he rubs at the back of your thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the end of your spine he brushes a hand over your mound, fingers skimming your lips to feel your wetness. “Please- please” he coos at your shaky voice, hearts practically in his eyes as he sinks a finger into your heat, “I’ll give you just what you need pretty girl” Yuuta moans at your warmth, exposed cock twitching as he watches your cunt swallow his finger.

He fingers you eagerly, breath labored as he hears the way you sniffle and bite back a moan of your own. Easing another finger into your warmth his free hand rubs circles into your hip, body hunched over to continue kissing along the expanse of your back. Yuuta fights the urge to rut against your thigh, forearm tensing as he pulls his fingers away to rub at your neglected clit. Tight circles making you writhe in the dirt as he pinches at your bundle of nerves. “So pretty, keep making those noises- my pretty girl.”

Straightening up he admires you for a second, body pliable and dirt sticking to your cheek. God, he can’t get enough of you. The sound of fabric is all you can hear, heart beating quickly before a warmth hits your back. Yuuta fixes his jacket to cover your naked upper half, the chill of your skin urging him to provide you some comfort in a sick way.

Pushing your hair to the side his body rests over yours, cock smearing precum against your thigh as he presses wet kisses at your nape, “So, so good for me.” Thumbing at your puffy lips he collects your arousal on his fingers before wrapping a fist around his cock and bringing to tip to kiss your cunt.

His actions scramble your thoughts, the gentleness that he treats you with while partaking in rough actions makes your head pound. A heavy sigh leaves you when he starts to roll his hips into your cunt. He’s big. Careful as he whispers candy in your ear- his sweet girl, taking him so well. Your eyes burn with a sudden dryness as tears are unwilling to form, fuck, he feels so good inside you. Kisses searing as he rubs down your spine, his jacket and the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix keeping you warm in the dead of night.

Yuuta doesn’t even try to stop the whines bubbling in his chest, lips parted to exhale and lick at his lower lip, eye’s never leaving the way his hips meet your ass and the pretty arch he keeps your back in. It’s addictive, the way your pussy keeps sucking him back in, warm walls clenching down on him and squelching lewdly when he tries to pull out only to bully his way back in. Sweet noises leaving your lax body, hair hiding your face but he can only imagine how hot your cheek would be if he cupped your face in his palms.

“Oh- you’re so good to me, c’mere pretty girl” reaching for the knife tossed inches away he slices up, cutting the tight hold his belt had you locked in and pulls out to flip you onto your back. His jacket keeps your skin from touching the dirt as he shivers at the feeling of cold air hitting him, fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

The kiss is gentle, lips hovering above yours as his soaked cock rests on your stomach, hand cradling your cheek as he hums into the one sided kiss. “Please princess, one kiss and I’ll take you home,” He’s so evil, moaning deeply when you entertain him, tongue slipping into your mouth and eyes rolling until there’s a dull ache behind his lids.

Keeping good on his promise he forces himself back in his pants, hands moving to slip his jacket onto your naked form before picking you up, arms around your back and under your knees as he runs his nose against your hairline, inhaling deeply. “Let me fuck you in your own bed princess- I’ll be so good to you.”

The walk back is silent. As silent as the neighborhood. The only sound your thumping heart and racing thoughts as you let him carry you home.

#D1 is kind of rough ^^#it gets better from here promise #jjk smut #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #okkotsu yuta x reader #kintober 2023 #yuuta smut #primal play

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90ekz · 4 months

Note

do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad

an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!

jean as your boyfriend <3

SFW

when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.

jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.

when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.

his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.

gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.

“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”

you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.

“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”

the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.

you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.

jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.

(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)

physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.

NSFW

lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.

“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”

during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.

loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.

about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.

jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.

his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.

utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.

“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”

presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.

tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.

“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”

aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.

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sweetercalypso · 11 months

Note

Please can you write about being catcalled when you’re with Joel? Like what do you think he would do?

wc: 0.7k cw: threats/slight violence, suggestive comments

Life in Jackson is quiet.

It’s reminiscent of a time that not many remember. Fit with a heavy artillery of patrolmen and a clinic and a working bar, Jackson made it easy to pretend that danger was no longer a concern.

Some of the men in the community weren’t so well-adjusted to easy living, and learned to find the familiarity of violence wherever they possibly could.

Walking back from Tommy’s house one evening, you’re reminded of how pervasive the threat of humanity can be.

Joel leads you home after dinner with his family. Ellie had stayed behind at Maria and Tommy’s with promises of hot chocolate and a new book that Tommy had procured on patrol the week before. You’re wrapped around Joel’s arm, giggling at whatever nonsense story he was murmuring into the quiet air when a sharp whistle kills the hazy warmth of the night.

Standing alone in the pale-yellow light of a streetlamp, one of the men from a group of newcomers stares darkly at you and Joel as the two of you pass by. His eyes had been stalking you from the time you turned the corner, like he was waiting for the perfect time to make his move.

“Lookin’ good, baby. I’d love to get a piece of that ass.”

Joel stops dead in his tracks like he’d been scorned by the man’s words. It was obvious the stranger was looking to pick a fight, and Joel was not the type to let a remark like that go.

“The fuck did he just say-”

“Ignore ‘em, Joel. He’s just trying to rile you up.”

Your grip on Joel’s sleeve tightens to give the man a chance to reconsider. Maybe he didn’t mean to offend you and he’d apologize. Maybe he’d realize who Joel was and he’d run away. Maybe –

“Let me know when the old man croaks, sweetheart. I’ll show you how a real man takes care of a pretty thing like you.”

Joel whips around abruptly with rage in his eyes and tears his arm out of your grasp before you even realize what’s happening.

He pounces on the man and grabs him by the collar, pushing him backwards until he smacks into the wall of the building behind him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel snarls.

He slams his hand against the faded brick, barely missing the side of the man’s face with his palm. Too stunned by the scene playing out in front of you, you’re frozen where you stand in the middle of the street.

Realizing that he had made a mistake, the man puts his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to speak when Joel cuts him off.

“If I hear another word out of your mouth, I’ll knock your head clean off your shoulders. You got that?”

He nods frantically, clearly aware that he’s not in the position to argue.

“Don’t ever talk about my girl like that again – or any woman here, for that matter. This ain’t the kinda place where people let that slide.”

Barely an inch separates the two men as Joel barks abuse at the creep until he’s red in the face. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him this upset.

“You so much as look at her again and you’re dead. D’you hear me?”

The man shakes his head in acknowledgement, too stunned to respond.

Joel yanks him forward and away from the wall, almost throwing him to the ground from the rough force he uses. He holds the man at arm’s length, speaking loudly enough for you to hear him where you stand a couple paces away. “Good. Now tell her you’re sorry.”

The man meets your gaze over Joel’s jacket clad shoulder, stammering through his dazed apology. “M’sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

Joel releases him with a rough shove and backs away nodding. “You’re damn right.”

He walks backwards until he’s beside you again, your hand slinking under his outer layer to rest securely over his chest.

“My hero,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the two of you continue your journey back home.

Watching over his shoulder as the the stranger staggers into the night, Joel mutters under his breath,

“I’d rather deal with the damn clickers.”

#lovely anons #calypso writes #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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amomentsescape · 23 days

Note

OooooO! Could I get a Slasher X reader! Like where another "rival" Slasher gets interested in another Slasher's So?

When Another Slasher Becomes Interested in Reader

Brahms Heelshire x Reader

A/N: I decided to not go into specifics on who the "rival" slasher was since it would have involved a lot of background and explanation on why they were in the UK in the first place.

Brahms's jealousy and possession over you knows no bounds

He doesn't even want you within a 3 foot radius of the man whose only job is to drop off groceries

He enjoys having you all to himself, living in the middle of nowhere with only him as your company

He may be the one who needs to be taken care of, but that's not to say that he doesn't want you to rely on him too

He has always wanted you to seek out his protection

He loves to see you curl up beside him and just fully relax in his presence

In fact, Brahms is never satisfied unless he is fully enveloping you with an iron grip, making sure nothing else can touch you and you can't sneak away

So when the feelings of paranoia began, Brahms went into a frenzy

He triple checked the locks on all the doors and windows every single night

He set up a security system to prevent anyone from breaking in

He even stopped hiding within the walls during the day and instead spent 24/7 right next to you

You questioned his sudden change in behavior

He told you he could feel someone watching you two

He could tell that you weren't really alone anymore

This freaked you out a bit

Brahms may be childish, but he's not stupid

You began to trust his word a bit more after that

It wasn't until one day that you decide to slip out of the house for a couple minutes

Brahms refused to let you outside or to even open a window the past few weeks, and this was beginning to wear on you

The cool air immediately calmed you down, and you began to question what he was so worried about in the first place

But right as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a branch snap beside you

You immediately turned and saw a masked man standing there, his height towering over you

He had a massive blade in his hand that sent a shiver down your spine

In that moment, you knew you should have listened to Brahms

You turned to run, but the Slasher was faster

He grabbed you by the jaw and turned you towards him, forcing you to look at him

To your surprise, his grip loosened slightly as he began to rub his thumb along your cheek

The feeling was familiar in a way to what Brahms would do sometimes

But that didn't make the moment any less terrifying

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he kept a firm hold on you

Just when you were about to call out for Brahms, the Slasher was slammed to the ground

You could see Brahms and the Slasher in a tussle, rolling around in the dirt while the sound of hard hits and cracking knuckles echoed throughout the quiet forest

You were worried for Brahms since the other Slasher was just as tall and strong as he was

But to your surprise, Brahms got the upper hand

He slammed his fist over and over again onto the man's mask, causing it to crack and splinter into his skin

This distracted him for just long enough that Brahms could grab a large rock, forcing it straight into the man's forehead

All movement ceased, and Brahms sat there, breathing heavily

When he finally turned to you, you slowly walked over to make sure he was okay

Before you could even say a word, Brahms had you pinned to a tree

His hands snaked along your waist as he pulled you flush against him

His lips were on yours in a hurry, his kisses hungrier than you had ever felt them before

He'll most definitely lock you back inside the house for the foreseeable future after this, but at least for now, you can just relish in his possessiveness and desire

#slashers x reader #slashers #slashers preference #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slasher movies #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire headcanon

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user-zvs · 24 days

Text

'watching from a distance'

pt.2 here

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

IN WHICH, Dazai decides to stalk and approach you for your allies on the PM or in this case fuck the answers out of you.

TW: stalking, rough handling, dom!dazai, slapping, biting, pet names, anal sex, fingering, cheating?.

A/n: I didn't finish bsd so forgive me😔

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

*CHUUYA IS Y/NS BF*

It was extremely cold and late at night but you adored the scenery of the streets at night, especially after drinking.

The usual street you walked on was under maintenence, which meant you had to travel the long way. You turned up the street and into an alleyway while on your phone, looking at the GPS.

About ten minutes into your walk you kept hearing heavy steps ascending behind you, but when you turned nothing was there.y You started to walk faster when you saw a shadow in the blacked out corner where the trash was.

Your breath hitched as you heard the figure say something, you stopped in your tracks. The pounding of your heart got louder as you figured out what he said as you turned around.

"I got her."

That was your que to sprint towards your house that was just up ahead, you stumbled up the front steps and fumbled to unlock the door. Once you got inside you gasped as you felt a force push open the door, it was the man who you've been avoiding for awhile.

"What do you want from me Dazai?!" Your wavering voice cried out. He slammed the door causing you to flinch on the ground, he glared at you as he locked to door and took off his jacket.

"Anwsers. Where did your boyfriend go?" He questioned as he crouched to your level, you rolled your eyes at him. He turned watched as you stumbled out of fear towards your knife that fell, you grabbed it but Dazai kicked the knife out of your hand.

"Fucking ugh-" you cursed as you held your hand in pain. Dazai crouched again and asked you the same question, you spat in his face before grinning.

"I'm not tellin' you sh-" you growled. Dazai grabbed your face before picking you up over his shoulder.

SMUT AHEAD!

He slammed your upper body onto the bed, causing you to yelp at the harsh treatment, He stood over you. The brown haired male flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled off your pants .

"Now darling, where is he?" He interrogated before rubbing your ass cheek.

"Up your as- ugh~" you moaned, Dazai harshly slapped your ass before spreading your legs with one foot. He leaned over you, chest pressed against your back as he breathed down your neck before talking.

"Don't worry I've got all night sweetheart, so work with me, hm? Just like old times." He smirked before kissing your neck, his hips grinded against your ass as he did so.

"We fucked even after you left the port for anwsers~" you moaned loudly as Dazai bit down hard, you wiggled out of his grasp and crawled onto the bed. Dazai loomed above you before sucking and biting on your neck, hand roaming your body.

His free hand slipped into your underwear to feel how wet you were, rubbing your clit. You arched your back as he quickened his pace, making you groan. He stuck his fingers in and out of your gaping hole, you hold his hair as he drags his hands along your walls. "Dazai~"The curling of his fingers causing you to whimper his name

"Sorry for this dear, I'll buy you new ones~" he huffed, he tore your underwear off in one go. The fabric leaving a burning feeling on your reddened skin. Dazai unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, you watched him lower them as you unbuttoned your shirt.

"Hands. Now." He demands, you complied by giving them to him. He took the thin belt and tied your hands to the head board before kissing your neck and licking at your sweet spot.

"What the fuck! ugh fuck~" you threw your head back at the feeling of Dazai biting roughly and thrusting into you at the same time. His pace was slow but his kisses were rough, each stroke was agony as you waited for him to go faster.

"I'll only go faster if you tell me what I want to hear. What did he tell you before he left?" He whispers in your ear as he stops entirely, You groaned as he looked down at you grinning. "Chuuya said you'd look for him." You breathed.

"Good girl, when did you last meet?" He questioned, his pace quickened as you closed your eyes. You acknowledged the fact Dazai didn't have to do this, he just wanted to fuck you like old times.

"Ngh~ never- Dazai~" the feeling of his cock bullying its way through the walls of your pussy left you speechless. His cologne engulfed your sense of smell as he sucked on your neck more, you clenched around him.

"Lie again, I dare you." He said in a low tone, it sent shivers down your spine making you arch. He pulled out and untied your hands causing you to scowl at him, his face was serious as he flipped you over aggressively.

"What th-ugh~" you yelped as he sleps your ass harshly, he grabbed a fistful of hair before aligning his hard cock at your hole. You gulped at the fact you knew he was getting mad, he was harsh as he thrushes his hips forward.

"Good girls get treated nicely~" he groans. His hips thrusting into your ass, the room being filled with claps and moans. You tried to wave your have to slow him down but instead he let go of your hair and yanked your hand instead .

"Sl-slow down~"

"No, Take your punishment then I will." He remarks, your eyes roll back as he let go of your hand and shoved your head into the pillow. Dazai's hands harsh grip your hips and slap your ass leaving marks, his pace wasn't going to slow down.

Your face was buried into the pillows with each thrust, you couldn't stop making noises. "D-Dazai fuck~ slow down!" You whimper loudly. He ignored you as he felt you clenched more around him, signaling you were going to cum.

"That's it, hm? Good girl~" You came around his cock as you screamed his name. Dazai pulled out as the string of cum followed his stiff length, he picked you up and placed you on the floor.

You were on your knees as he sat on the bed, bringing his pants a little lower. His hand stroked it a few times before looking down at you. You crawled closer as he motioned his hand.

"You gonna tell me where he is?" He huffed. Thinking it'd be funny, you shook your head no as he grabbed your jaw and sqeezed it open. Dazai thrust his hips forward, You gagged on his dick before bobbing your head on his dick.

He threw his head back and moaned, you grabbed his balls and massage them as you greedily shoved his dick in his mouth. Tears rolled down your face as you forcefully choked on his dick, mouth full of him.

"Hurry up or chuuya will be back soon." He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, so he knew Chuuya would be coming here for a visit tonight. You heard Dazai loudly moan as he shor ropes into your throat, you swallowed it gracefully as he pulled away.

"SO you knew? Then why do all of this?" You scoffed. He lazily smiled before running a hand through his sweaty hair, thinking of what to say.

"I just wanted to feel you again, is that so bad?" He lightly chuckled. You hugged him as you sat on his lap, feeling his hands snake around you. "Who're you texting?" You questioned as you layer your head on his shoulder.

"Just opening a message that's all."

Little did you know he was texting Chuuya on his cellphone. Something along the lines of:

Dazai: just fucked your girlfriend, hurry here for round two

Chuuya: on my way.

#anime #anime smut #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd #dazai smut #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai #smut #osamu dazai #osamu dazai smut

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brummiereader · 11 months

Text

Hi everyone I'm back with another series! This is going to be a Dark!Tommy series, that some readers may find triggering, so I really wanted to give you all a warning beforehand. Overtime the following potential triggers will become more apparent...manipulative behaviour, psychological mind games, toxic relationship, controlling behaviour, violence, and psychological abuse.

Killing Me Softly (PART ONE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: Reader is arranged to marry the notorious gangster of Small Heath Tommy Shelby. Going into the marriage with an open heart she soon realises he is not the man she once knew. How long will she be able to endure his cruel games?

Warnings: Angst, fluff, violence, language, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, Dark!Tommy (This is a dark series, please read the warnings before continuing)

Writers note: Inspired by this ominous version of the song "Killing me Softly" by Aretha Franklin. Just to note, we follow off from the intro later on in the series.

"Y/N Ohh Y/N...come on love, I'm not gonna hurt you" He said taunting you, as you heard him open each door along the dimly lit hallway on the second floor of your home Arrow House. His heavy foot steps walked slowly along the wooden floorboards as he checked each room looking, searching...for you.

Hiding under the bottom shelf of a small closet room, you made yourself as small as you could possibly get. Shaking, tears streaming down your face you brought your knees up to your chest clutching yourself, hoping and praying he wouldn't find you.

"Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far.

Under the bed, behind a door, was that a creak I heard on the floor?

I'll shout and call out your name, but you'll keep quiet, it's part of the game.

Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far...Ohh Y/N..."

Snapping your head up, you listened to the nursery rhyme as it echoed loudly through the corridor. Once an innocent song you used to sing as a child whilst playing hide-and-seek, now a menacing taunt filled with unspoken threats. All of a sudden his cruel singing came to a stop. Hearing the creaking floorboards just outside the door, your eyes widened in terror.

" You know I'll win...i always did" you heard him say in a deep menacing voice as you covered your mouth trying to silence your heavy breathing. You watched intently as his dark shadow moved underneath the door, with your whole body trembling, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. Putting your hand to your chest you breathed a silent sigh of relief as you heard his intimidating footsteps move on.

"I don't like to be teased sweetheart!" he said loudly, annoyed, as he slammed a door shut in frustration. Jolting at the sudden noise your foot slid against the floor hitting the wall in front you. Shit. Silence filled the house, the noise of his footsteps absent from your ears. Taking your hand away from your mouth, you reached out to bring your knee back into your chest, only to gasp in fear as you heard one single creak of the floorboards just outside the closet door.

"Peekaboo..." he said tilting his head as he opened the door, a sinister smile spread across his face, a bloodied knife in his hand.

"Come on now, darling" he said as he dragged you kicking and screaming out the small dark room by your night dress.

" Tommy please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, wait...wait!"

One Month Before...

An arranged marriage. If anyone would have told you this is what you had agreed to this time last year, you would have laughed in their face at their preposterous suggestion. But yet here you was, two weeks away from marrying your childhood friends brother, Tommy Shelby. You had spent most of your early life at the Shelby's house, you being close friends with Ada, you would see Tommy almost every day. Maybe that's why you had agreed to the proposition so willingly, you knew Tommy, you grew up with him, a small affection grew over the years for him, and you trusted him, or at least...you thought you did. It was a cascade of events over many years that had led up to the day when Tommy's Aunt, Polly Gray, proposed the arrangement. Your father dying in combat was the start of everything that eventually went wrong, then when your mother moved you both to London to escape the constant reminders of your late father, her health started to deteriorate. The grief of losing him had taken a tremendous toll on your mother's body, unable to work anymore, and with only a war widows pension, you had to take on extra hours working in a press factory as your mother stayed home, you were barely getting by. Now you found yourselves back in Small Heath, back home, back in search for easier times. Hearing of your mother's ill health and your struggle to find employment, Polly Gray a friend of the family, re-entered you lives, offering you help when no one else would.

The proposition Polly made at first, was not one of marriage, but one of employment, you was to work in the Shelby Company Limited offices as a secretary, but when Tommy caught wind of his Aunt's plans and the knowledge of your return to Small Heath, with no need of another secretary he proposed a different arrangement, one of marriage. A wife in return for the financial support of your mother and the help she so desperately needed, that was the offer Polly came to you with that late spring day, the day your whole life changed.

Arranged marriages were not unheard of in the 1920s, and Tommy being a man who had so little time to find a wife, found himself needing one. He didn't particularly want one, but he needed one if he was ever going to rub shoulders with the people he wanted to do business with. With a wife by his side, he would be able to portray himself as a stable family man, an image he needed to paint to finally be taken seriously by the circle of people he wanted to be acquainted with, or at least, that's what he told everyone. You had very little family left, most of them having died in the war or from illness, your mother was the only immediate family you had. With no other options, your mother's health worsening, and no money to pay for the doctors she so badly needed, you had willingly agreed to the arrangement without much hesitation. An almost transactional agreement, but one you entered into with an open mind and heart, naively thinking that this arrangement would eventually turn into a loving marriage... how wrong you would be.

"I'm ready" you said as you straightened out your white summer dress.

" You look beautiful darling" your mother replied as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

" I'm sorry I can't come with you" your mother said as she handed you your small black purse.

"It's ok, you're not feeling well, get some rest ok?" You said as you kissed her cheek. Saying goodbye you opened the front door and walked out onto the busy streets of Small Heath. It was summer and surprisingly a beautiful day in the small Birmingham town. The sun breaking through the thick smoke of the factory chimneys, beamed down on your skin as you walked the ten minute journey to Watery Lane. Your thoughts turning in your head, you started to doubt your decision. What if he doesn't like me ? What if this doesn't work out? Does he even remember me? It was so long ago, you couldn't even remember what he looked like. Walking across to the next street you was now on Watery Lane. Standing in front of the door you straightened out your posture as you painted on a smile, before you could even knock, the door flew open.

"Are you Tommy's wife?" A small boy with a peaked cap and muddy knees said, as he opened the door.

"Not yet she's not" Polly said moving the boy out the way as she ushered you in, planting a kiss to your cheek.

" Polly" you said hugging her, smiling as she welcomed you into the house.

" Come sit down dear" she said as she pulled out a chair for you at the round table in the middle of the room.

" Hello you" you heard a voice say from behind you.

"Ada!" You said turning around, as she bent down to give you a hug.

" Look at you!" she said smiling to you, as she brushed your hair away from your shoulder " You're a beauty Y/N, Polly isn't she just beautiful?" She said turning to her Aunt.

" That she is, Tommy's one lucky man" she replied smiling to you with a wink. Sitting down in front of you, she poured you each a glass of whiskey.

" Bit of Dutch courage" she said handing you the glass, which your gratefully took, downing it in one go.

" Steady on!" Ada giggled covering her mouth, "You're not marrying the Devil himself" she laughed once again.

" Nervous?" Polly asked, as she looked at your anxious face, reaching out for your hand.

" A little...Polly what if this doesn't wor..." you said only to be interrupted by the small boy from before.

"Tommy's here!" He shouted as he ran through the kitchen knocking over one of the wooden chairs.

" Finn out!" Polly demanded, pointing to the stairs as he stomped up them, his arms folded, a grumpy thrown forming on his face.

" Ello ello" Arthur announced as he entered the room, John not far behind him.

"There she is" he said reaching out to hug you. " You've grown" he said motioning up and down your body with his hand, his eyes stopping at your chest as he cleared his throat.

" Move over you old perv" John said with a big smile, his arms stretched out to hug you.

"John" you said, hugging him tightly. Being closer in age, you and John had always gotten along, he was like a brother to you, often the first to come to you if you ever needed help. Turning his head around, John moved out the way as Tommy walked into the room. Taking his peaked cap off, his eyes immediately scanned the room, looking for you.

"Y/N" he said walking towards you, giving you a small kiss to the cheek, his hand resting on your hip. Now a young woman, Tommy was taken aback by your beauty.

"Tommy" you said nervously as your breath hitched in your throat. The boy you remembered was gone, instead a grown man stood before you, a face aged by war, a presence that demanded respect, he walked into the room with authority and power, and you couldn't help but look away from his intimidating statue. Smiling to you, trying to ease the tension, Tommy gently placed his hand on your back, gesturing for you to sit down as he sat down in the empty chair beside you. With everyone now around the table you talked about your time in London, everything but the impending wedding, that was until Arthur brought it up.

" You'll be a Shelby in a few weeks" he said winking to you, as he took a sip of whiskey.

" Think you can handle our Tom, Y/N?" John interjected, chuckling.

" Yeh, I think I can handle him " you said laughing, trying to make light of the situation as you turned to see Tommy eyeing you from head to toe, his mouth slightly open as his eyes then landed on yours.

"Good luck to you Y/N, Tommy's not the easiest to get along with, are you Tom?" John chuckled as he put his elbows on the table, leaning in closer to you.

"Shut up John" Tommy said, clearly bothered by his teasing. Shifting in your seat, you looked down nervously at your hands.

"Tom's just a bit hot headed sometimes Y/N" Arthur said as he poured himself another whiskey ." Anyway, things will go just fine for you two, Tom here, used to have a little crush on..."

"Right, you all done, hm?" Tommy said interrupting, looking at each of his brothers, his brows raised in annoyance, as both of them put their hands up in defence, unable to hold back their laughs.

" Come on, let's leave them to it" Polly said as she ushered everyone out the small kitchen. With just you and Tommy now alone, a small silence filled the room as he lit a cigarette.

" What are siblings for if they don't give you a hard time" you said smiling to him, breaking the silence.

"You're not gonna give me a hard time are you?" He said turning to you, mischief playing in his eyes.

" No. No..." you said slightly flustered.

"But you think you can handle me, eh?

" I didn't mean it like that" you said turning to him, his eyes catching yours as you started to regret your choice of words.

" I know" he nodded chuckling " I'm only teasing Y/N" he said clearing his throat.

"I need to know for sure though, I need to hear you say it, do you want this?" He said shifting closer to you, his eyes never moving from yours.

" I want this Tommy" you said as confidently as you could. "Do you?"

" I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't" he said staring at you, his eyes piercing into you. "Look, i know it's not the typical start to a marriage, but we know eachother, we can trust eachother, right?" he said as he reached for your hand, his thumb caressing you in reassurance.

" We can trust eachother" you nodded, comforted by his gentle touch " You know, coming here today, i didn't think you would remember me" you said as you traced your finger around the rim of your empty glass.

" Oh I remember you. You were here all the time, running around playing hide-and-seek. And if I remember correctly, you were never very good at it" he said a smile on his lips as his eyes darted between yours and your fingers grazing along the glass.

"Well, you never did count to ten" you joked as a laugh escaped Tommy's mouth.

"I wasn't very patient" he admitted, taking a drag of his cigarette his eyes glistening, as a cocky grin formed on his face

" God, we must have annoyed Polly so much sometimes"

" We were just kids" he said shrugging his shoulders, as he poured you both another glass of whiskey.

" Not anymore" you replied, as he handed you your drink, his fingers brushing over yours.

" No, not anymore" he echoed quietly, taking a sip of his whiskey, as he looked over your body in the corner of his eye, clenching his jaw.

" I got you something" he said clearing his throat. Reaching into his suit pocket, Tommy pulled out a small box with a red ribbon neatly fastened around it. Putting it on the table he slowly pushed it towards you.

" Tommy you didn't have to do that"

" It's a wedding gift, I want you to wear it on the day" He said stubbing his cigarette out, as he watched your slender fingers gently untie the ribbon.

" Oh my god...Tommy" you said smiling as you took out a small diamond encrusted bracelet. "It's beautiful" you said as you turned the bracelet around, only to furrow your brows as you looked at his and your initials engraved with a date on the back.

"Tommy I think the Jeweler made a mistake, the date's wrong?

"It's not wrong Y/N, I'm bringing the wedding forward, to next Saturday" Tommy said as he opened his cigarette holder, pulling out another.

" What...forward?" You questioned confused by the unexpected change of plans.

" You don't have a problem with that, do you?" He questioned as he exhaled a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling, rubbing the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

" No, it's just...everything's been planned for two weeks time, why did you change the dates?"

" I don't want to wait Y/N" he said, tapping the ash from the cigarette into the glass tray as he turned to face you, his brows raised in surprise at your questions. " You sure you want to marry me, eh? He said cocking an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips.

"I do Tommy, it's just.." you said, still confused by the the sudden urgency. "..next week it is then" you replied, giving in, not knowing what else to say. Smiling to you, Tommy sat forward taking your hand as he clasped the bracelet around your small wrist.

"You like it then?" He asked his eyes looking up at you through his thick lashes.

"I love it" you said reaching your arms out, wrapping them around him. Hugging you back, Tommy's hand moved up to the back of your neck, his cheek pressing into your hair as he breathed in your perfume.

" You'll never want for anything Y/N, I'll make sure of that" he said as he let go. " And your mother, she will be looked after" he confirmed, as you looked up, meeting his eyes.

" Thank you, Tommy" you said as you placed your hand into his, his other hand reaching up, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb.

" We'll make it work, yeh?" he nodded to you.

" We will" you said shyly as you looked down at the bracelet on your wrist.

" Good. My brothers are right though, I can be a difficult man at times, stubborn set in my ways. But I'll look after you" he said as you nodded to him, his thumb still on your cheek as his fore finger grazed down cupping your chin "And in return I'll have a good, obedient wife" he added, eyes narrowing, his forehead raised, his grip subtly tightening as he waited for your reaction. Your eyes darted away nervously only to quickly come back to his intense glare.

"I'll be a good wife Tommy" you said, a small unsure laugh leaving your lips at his odd choice of words.

" Good" he said letting go of your cheek, his face finally relaxing, as he leaned back into his chair.

" You know Y/N, I think this might just work out for us"

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #killing me softly #dark tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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spider-stark · 1 month

Text

JEALOUSY

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Dealing with the consequences of making Aegon jealous

Warnings - MINORS DNI, abusive/toxic relationship, definite masochism, choking, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of blades, targcest

Word Count - 1.6k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

Stars cloud your vision when he shoves you against the wall, your temple slamming into the rough stone.

You hiss at the pain splintering through your skull, throbbing so much that you hardly even acknowledge the accompanying ache in your shoulder, your arm contorted awkwardly as his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, pinning it in-between your shoulder blades.

He leans in close, pressing his weight against your spine and knocking the air from your lungs. His other hand comes up to tangle itself in your hair, keeping your cheek pressed firmly against the stone.

You try to use your free hand to push back against the wall, desperate to give your chest enough space to expand, to allow oxygen to fill your needy lungs.

A dry laugh rattles his chest at the sight, amused as he watches you shove helplessly. Then, after listening to your pathetic pants for a few heartbeats, his grip slackens enough to let you catch a full breath—but not enough to give you an opportunity to escape his hold.

Though, even if you could free yourself, you would’ve had no intention of actually doing so.

“I bet you think you’re a clever girl,” his lips are nearly grazing against your earlobe as he speaks, the warmth of his breath fanning down your neck. “Don’t you?”

Aegon’s tone is sickeningly sweet, and the saccharine taunt offers a distinct contrast to the violent grip he still has on you. You can still feel the sharp sting of his nails clawing around your wrist, digging into the flesh so deeply that you wonder if he will draw blood.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Aegon had made you bleed—and you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last.

Panting, still trying to catch your breath, you say, “I haven’t the slightest idea as to what you’re on about, brother.”

Brother—the title elicits a guttural sound from him, a low and heavenly sound that has your body acting of its own volition, your thighs squeezing together in search of friction.

Aegon knew that, in this particular instance, your choice of wording had been a deliberate move. A reminder of what you were to him; his youngest and sweetest sibling, a girl that he was supposed to want to protect from evil men like himself, the kind that wished to ruin you in ways the Seven would never forgive.

But you enjoy feeding into his sinful and insatiable desire to defile his sweet sister. And, in spite of the pain—from your head, from your shoulder, from your wrist—there’s a sly smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. A sudden sense of power rushes your veins, dulling the pain you’re feeling and replacing it with immeasurable satisfaction.

You had control over Aegon—always.

Even now, with a hand pinned behind your back and stone scraping your cheek, you held the most power, because you were the one that had worked to painstakingly orchestrate this entire situation; using today’s tourney as an opportunity to entertain a few pathetic men from House Greyjoy, going so far as to offer one of them your favor during the joust, and giving up a dance to another after the banquet.

You had taken advantage of your brother’s innate jealousy, as well his own deep-seated insecurity that eventually you would find another body to warm your bed, another man to satiate your desires. Cruelly, you had taken advantage of him in hopes of eliciting this very response.

You wanted him like this—frustrated and enraged, so irate and possessive that the only way he could possibly relieve the tension was like this; shoving you against a wall, hellbent on forcefully reminding you that your body had been made for him.

“You’re insufferable,” his moan is laced with such animosity, such raw ferocity, “you think that you can do whatever you wish,” his head dips lower, nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, “that you can flirt what whoever you wish,” your breath catches in your throat as you feel his tongue quickly swipe along your pulse point before growling, “without consequences.”

His finger’s knot themselves further into your hair, keeping you from thrashing away from him as he sinks his teeth into you. A wave of pleasure and pain ripples through you at the sensation of his sharp cuspids pricking at the sensitive flesh.

“Aeg-”

More calculation, more deliberation—you knew how much Aegon loved to hear you whine for him, knew that it would cause another moan to slip from his lips, effectively loosening his jaw and relieving the pain of teeth prodding into your throat.

He doesn’t stop, though, continuing to nibble and suck until there’s a bruise blossoming beneath his lips, always refusing to pass up on an opportunity to mark you. You writhe against him, further feeding into his fantasy of sullying his little sister by trying to squirm from his grasp.

But, with his body still pressed so firmly against yours, caging you to the wall, you find yourself grinding against the firm imprint of his cock straining against his trousers. The subsequent whimpers that fall from your lips are not purposeful, instincts taking over once again as you try and shift your hips, rising on your toes and attempting to poke your ass out, doing everything you can to feel him against you.

A thin bridge of saliva trails from your marred neck to his lips as he tuts softly, “So needy,” he presses a kiss to the growing bruise he’s left behind, the action so tender and doting. The hand he had raveled in your hair falls to rest in the curve of your waist, squeezing slightly as he asks you, “Tell me—do you truly think that those Greyjoy boy’s could have gotten you like this?”

“Perhaps,” you tease him, intending to see just how far you could push him, “I’ve heard rumors about the Iron Islanders. Baela tells me that the Grejoy men are well-known for their fat cocks-”

The crude claim has just hardly left your mouth before Aegon whirls you around, sending your back crashing into the stone this time, his hand enclosed around your throat. It’s nearly impossible to tell whether the sounds slipping from you are from pleasure or pain, but Aegon doesn’t particularly care.

“Speak one more word about their cocks,” he snarls, his lilac eyes turning predatory as they narrow at you, “and I will carve your tongue out.”

Your own gaze travels to his waist, settling on the dagger sheathed at his hip. Indolent as he was, you knew that your brother was capable of making true on his threat. For all the discipline he lacked, he still had the sort of temperament that makes a man deadly—with or without a weapon.

But you trust him—more than you should—and you immediately recognize his threat as being an empty one. Aegon had no intention of ever pulling a blade on you; though he had certainly succeeding in implanting the thought in your head, your mind suddenly running wild with all of the ways that you might encourage him to use it on you later, wondering how it might feel to have him fuck you with the hilt.

Aegon shakes you from these fantasies, though, squeezing your throat tight enough that your vision is going hazy again, leaving you blinking stupidly at him. “With only a few chaste kisses I’ve succeeded in turning you into a writhing whore,” he spats at you, the harshness of his tone making you flinch, “could the Greyjoy’s have done that?”

There’s a wobble in his voice as he speaks the same, giving away his need for reassurance. You almost consider giving it to him, nearly finding yourself the victim of his soft, pouty lips, your body urging you to lean in and taste them—but it seems that your silence has a more desired effect, earning an entitled huff before his other hand is gliding down your abdomen, bunching up the silky fabric of your dress.

“No,” he mutters, perhaps to himself more than you. “They could not satisfy you! No—they could not possibly know all of the right ways to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you!”

You’re biting your tongue as his hand finally slips beneath your dress, his fingers swiftly diving between your thighs, curving so that he can make quick work of removing the smallclothes beneath—only to realize that you’re wearing none.

He stops—his chest rising and falling in a series of many short, shallow breaths. His rage grows exponentially, his intrinsic insecurity leading him to believe that you had abstained for their benefit and not his. There’s a muscle feathering in his jaw and, for the first time in this encounter, you nearly consider searching for a means of escape, your eyes beginning to grow wide with fear.

But then his lip trembles, lilac eyes growing glossy as he growls, “You are mine–” his palm is flat against your throat, squeezing tight enough to make you wheeze, “only mine.”

His mouth is on yours before the declaration has even fully rolled off of his tongue, uttering the final word against your lips as he kisses you harshly, fervently, desperately—trying to prove himself to you, prove that he’s capable of making you feel a type of euphoria that the Greyjoy boy’s never could.

Later—you would soothe his pitiful little mind, promising him that you had never actually taken an interest in the Greyjoy’s. Later, once you had been thoroughly bruised, bitten, and fucked, you would tell him the truth; that you had only ever wanted him.

But, for now at least, you would take all the pleasure you could get from the dangerous, predatory touch of your jealous boy.

a/n - idk, i was bored at work and just ended up with this. not sure if i even like it, but i'm trying to get better at just posting the things i write instead of letting them die in my drafts

also if anyone wants to talk about hotd (writing about it or just watching it lol) please message me, i'm desperate for hotd friends before season 2 <3 <3

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 6 months

Note

Hi Mo! I hope you are doing well! I really love your writing and the way you capture the duality of Alfie's character. I saw that you were looking for ideas so I thought I'd send one in (please feel no obligation/pressure to write it, this is just spit balling). Maybe something with reader being protective over Alfie. Maybe they're unaware of the infamous title the Camden King holds or they are but they have an overwhelming sense to have to protect him when the two are placed into a dangerous situation. Thanks so much, and again no pressure to have to write this ♥️!

Hi my friend!! You are so sweet, I hope you’re doing well too!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I gotta be honest, for some reason I had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted to write this! I hope you enjoy it though, and if it isn’t hitting the way you were hoping, message me and maybe we can come up with something together!! Sending my love!!! - Mo

Change of Plans

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fighting, blood, stitches

This was NOT how the night was supposed to go.

Alfie was going to have a late night at the office, finishing up some business with the Shelby boys. Fine enough, you could make his home coming sweet. A fresh chocolate babka would be fresh out the oven, ready for him to cut into and devour. Candles would be lit all over the house, with curtains drawn in to protect from peering eyes and the creeping in cold. And you. You were dressed so pretty, just waiting for him. Hair loose and free, just how he loves it. You had put on that soft pink dressing gown he likes so much. The silk one with the delicate lace at the ends. You even put lavender oil on, extra, just to entice him.

It was SUPPOSED to be a nice surprise. It was SUPPOSED to be an evening where you spoiled him. It was SUPPOSED to be a romantic evening.

But no… here you are. Sitting next to Ollie in the car. Being driven across town to a bar. A bar, where your husband, along with the idiots Tommy, Arthur, and John Shelby, were fighting. Being that Ollie was concerned enough to grab you from home, you could only imagine how bloody it was.

Ollie looked over at you, eyeing the hem of your dressing gown, nervous as to how the pink fabric would be received, “Uhm.. Ma’am, I have a coat in the back… don’t you think maybe-“

“No Ollie I don’t think I want it. If Alfie wants to pull me out of my house this late at night, he can deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Ollie you know I love you so very much but I will need you to not speak again until we get to the bar. Yes?”

Ollie nodded, but the stress never left his eyes. You know he meant well. He was only ever looking out for you and Alfie. He was very very sweet. But frankly, Alfie did not deserve to have Ollie looking out for him. He did not deserve common courtesy tonight.

You slam open the doors, and it was exactly as you assumed it was. Regular patrons of the bar were lined up at the edge of the walls, watching the gladiators in the center tear each other apart. There was blood all over the floor. Broken glasses and spilled liquor scattering the floor mixing with the red. Tables and chairs discarded and destroyed in the wake of the brawl. You assumed, that the fight started as Alfie against the brothers. But it looked from your stance now, that it was every man for himself. All four of the men were sporting black eyes, bruises and cuts all over their faces, necks, and hands. You heard Alfie’s laugh above the sounds, “C’mon now!!! You want some more?!”

He didn’t see you yet, but you could see him. He looked like absolute shit, and his mouth was bleeding despite the toothy grin he gave with every punch he gave and received. You rolled your eyes, and felt your rage rise. He was getting far too old for this shit, reveling in his strength and the destruction he could so easily cause. The honor he wanted to protect with the force of 50 men. In normal circumstances you find it honorable. Sometimes even charming. But the way it was going… someone was going to get killed. And if anyone was going to kill Alfie it was going to be you.

You motioned for Ollie to follow you, as you stomped over the bottles, blood, and water. The yells for more blood by the men at the edges slowly turned to whistles as they gave witness to your bare legs, the thin dressing gown, and your steaming rage barreling through. With strength mustered from God himself, you grabbed the collar of John and yanked him back quickly, tossing him onto his back, “What the! Oh, Mrs. Solomons…”

Ollie managed to rip Arthur off of Alfie’s back, and he too looked incredulous at your appearance at this disgusting scene. All that was left was Alfie and Tommy, still attempting to rip each others throat out, entirely oblivious to your presence.

“ENOUGH. STOP IT.”

You screamed, but to no avail. They were entirely focused on one another, on their mutual blood lust. Seeing no other option, you motioned for Ollie’s gun, snatching it from his hand, and shot three rounds into the ceiling.

They finally stopped, looking up to find you as the source of the noise. Where they initially looked like big men, they suddenly reminded you of naughty children.

“Alfred Solomons. Thomas Shelby. Just what in gods name do you think you’re doing.”

Silence. Utter silence. “WELL?! I’m waiting Mr. Solomons!”

Tommy tried to get up, but paused when you pointed the gun at him, “Do not make another move Mr. Shelby. Not only did you ruin a night with my husband, but you also nearly killed him. I have half a mind to shoot you dead right now.”

Not moving from your initial target, you address Alfie, “Have you finally found yourself speechless? Say something.”

With a swollen eye and bloody lip, he manages to smile sheepishly, “Just… just business love. Just… a bit of a quarrel darling nothing more… put the gun down my love, you look beautiful. A right vision darling. ”

“I will decide when I put the gun down Mr. Solomons.”

You begin pointing the gun at each of the four men, “I think we can all agree… that we are ALL a little too old to behaving this way yes?”

Tommy was watching you intently, as was Alfie. John and Arthur hung their heads. Embarrassed for both their behavior and their deep seeded fear of you. You motioned for Alfie to get up, “My husband and I are going to leave now. Mr. Shelby, I expect a handwritten note apologizing for ruining my evening. And Monday you all will convene together, to discuss the issue like fucking adults!”

Alfie winced as he got up, cane nowhere to be found. You walked back out into the cold, with Alfie close to your heels. You push him into the car before you, and slam the door shut, telling Ollie to take you home.

You can’t even look at Alfie. So overcome with irritation and worry. Irritated that he acted so recklessly, and worried about his injuries. As you always are. Alfie fiddled with the coat on the seat, “Coat is back here and you still decided to come out in your dressing gown eh?”

“Be quiet I do not want to hear you.”

“Oh you will hear me though won’t you yeah? You will hear me, because now, all of fucking London saw my wife’s bare legs! I mean what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! You want to know what’s wrong with me Alfie Solomons? I wait all day for my husband to come home. No no not just wait. I SLAVE around the house all day, make myself look nice, hoping HOPING that my husband makes it home! I worry sick ALL DAY that maybe this will be the day my husband doesn’t come home. And instead of coming home, he goes and acts like a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON and starts a fist fight with the Shelby boys!! You are getting too old for this kind of reckless behavior Alfie! And I cannot let you keep destroying your body like this!”

You begin to feel the hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Alfie’s heart starts to crack, “Aw.. darling I- treacle don’t go worrying about old Alfie now. Your husband is like an ox yeah?”

Your tears keep flowing, harder now, “No Alfie! No i do worry! It’s not about you being strong!! It’s about you being healthy! About you being safe! I’ve never told you to stop the business! I’ve never asked you to leave it! All I’ve ever asked is that you show wisdom! Not to go around picking fights! I can’t see you like this Alfie! You don’t deserve to get cut up and beaten for nothing! For a pissing contest! I shouldn’t have to see my husband like this just because of some… some pride!”

Alfie just placed his bloodied hand on your knee, patting and stroking your thigh trying to comfort you. Once Ollie got you and Alfie home, you silently walked up, freezing and covered in the smell of booze and violence. “Get to the bathroom Alfie. I’ll be there in a minute to clean you up.”

You changed out of your soft pink nightie, and slipped on of Alfie’s night shirts over your body, breathing in the smell of his left over cologne. With a sigh you lugged the medicine kit into the bathroom, where Alfie sat at the edge of the tub, shirt off, hot water running and steaming the room. Silently, you began cleaning the wounds on his hands and chest. Once the tub was sufficiently filled, you nodded for him to get in.

With a grunt he lowers himself in. It was getting harder to get into the tub. His muscles tighter than they used to be. You begin your work, stitching up the deeper cuts on his chest and face. It was like nothing to you now.

The first time you stitched him up, he had to talk you through it, giving you more comfort than you could him. It was a rough first try, the scar is still pure white between his shoulder blades, and you can feel it under your fingers at night. But now, you know your way around the needle and his skin, it’s a familiar ritual to you now, though you wish it wasn’t.

“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day.” Alfie says suddenly, eyes glossy, and forehead sweaty.

You shake your head at him. Of course he’s trying to flirt with you while you’re stitching him up, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”

“Nah. I married an angel darling. You make those shirts look like them French magazines.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Damn him, he knows how to sweeten you up. You finally finish up the stitches, 10 different gashes in total, and you begin putting on the salve and bandages when he finally speaks again, “My sweet heart, you should not have gone down there. It would’ve been ok. You don’t need to be involved in all that.”

God he’s irritating. Throwing your hands in your lap you bite back, “Alfie don’t give me that. One of us has to have some sense! One of us has to care about you.”

“You are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Or are you forgetting what it is that I do! I ain’t a soft man treacle.”

“Do not even try to spin it Alfred Solomons. I will not be made to be looked at like a hysterical and stupid house wife. You will not make me feel crazy Alfred Solomons. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”

A beat of silence. And two blinks from Alfie are your queue to keep speaking, “Never. Never have I ever told you to stop. I told you that I would always support you. That your people are my people. You want to continue the business. Absolutely. You want to drop it all and go to Margate. Beautiful. I will always be here for the aftermath. I will always be there to discuss. I will always be there to stitch you up. But this Alfie… this type of… reckless nonsense… you got slashed in the chest Alfie! I will not be made a widow Alfred Solomons. Especially in the wake of something which was preventable. I refuse to watch my husband kill himself for a fucking pissing contest.”

He stared at the water in the tub, losing its steam and washing away the grime from his day. In this moment he wasn’t the King of Camden. That mask left the moment he walked through the threshold. Right now he was Alfie Solomons. Your husband. The man who was to love and protect you.

“Alfie… don’t you see how much I love you? How much I want you to be safe? I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sick. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly not here. I think… the sky would turn black. I would not be able to breathe.”

Alfie hummed, and began to rise out of the tub, “C’mon… let’s get to bed yeah?”

With a sigh you nodded, helping him out, and cleaning up your tools before leaving him to dress for bed. Already bundled in between the soft white sheets, you look above your book to watch him limp into bed, and your heart breaks. He grunts as he gets in, but then pulls at your shirt to bring you closer, “C’mere darling. Need you.”

You toss your book to the floor, huddling closer, letting him guide your head to his bare chest. He hums put a tune from his childhood, stroking your hair as he thinks. After a bit he whispers, “Do you know what would happen if you weren’t next to me anymore?”

“Hmm?”

“The world would stop spinning. Lose all its color. Food ‘d lose its taste. Music would be horrible. I’d stop breathing. There’d be no reason to breathe. No reason at all.”

You begin to feel tears fall again, but he kept continuing, “I love you my darling. You add meaning to all this… I’m sorry I made you feel… as if you didn’t matter. As if your feelings didn’t matter. They do treacle. Your husband is stubborn, and it ain’t right. Ain’t right to make my wife cry and worry. You’re the best a man like me could ever ask for. You put up with so much… I promise not to be such an ass yeah? Start using my head before I start up some nonsense. Deal?”

You nod, clutching his chest, kissing him wherever you could reach, as Alfie hums again, kissing the top of your head. “Now Treacle. Tell me all about these plans you had for tonight.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

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g4sstationdr-gs · 6 months

Text

Blood Splattered Teardrops

ghostface!sam x reader. reader is afab. warnings; knife.

Chapter one

Sitting in the back of Sam’s car in the school parking lot before the bell rings is like a daily tradition. Sam is smoking a cigarette and you’re working on whatever missing assignment you have this time. You groan and drop the notebook down in frustration and Sam’s head turns to you. “What?” He asks as he inhales the smoke. His rings shine in the early morning light as his fingers hold the bud. “This makes no sense at all. It’s like Mr. Matter has some vendetta against me and wants me to fail.” You wine dramatically and put your face in your hands.

Sam chuckles and throws the cigarette on the ground then scoots closer to you. You hear the paper crumple slightly as he picks up your notebook. You peak your eyes through your fingers and you see his cocky grin as he looks at you. You can’t help but smile and bring your foot up to gently kick as his chest. “Stop it.” You say with the slight giggle. He grabs your ankle and pushes it away from him. “Stop what?” He says and tilts his head. “You’re teasing me!” You say and bring your other leg up. He grabs them both and tugs you towards him. You laugh loudly as your drug across the floor of the trunk. “I am not, stop being dramatic.” He smirks down at you.

You look up at him and you see the expression on his face change and he looks up. Josh walks up to the car and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N. Are you coming to the party Saturday night?” He says as he leans against the car. You wiggle your feet out of Sam’s grasp and push yourself up so you’re sitting again. “Oh- yeah! it’s a costume party, right? I have the perfect one.” You say with a cheerful smile.

Josh’s eyes look you up and down and he smirks slightly. Sam’s hands curl into fists and he glares at Josh. “Cool. I bet you’ll look real nice. C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.” He says and he reaches his hand out to help you up.

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You turn around and grab your stuff and smile at Sam. “Bye Sam!” You say and start to walk off, expecting Josh to follow you. Josh gives Sam a cocky smirk and Sam smiles back mockingly. Josh then starts to follow you. Sam watches and as soon as you’re out of sight he pushes himself up and slams the hood of the trunk down.

The next time he sees you it’s at lunch. You’re sitting and talking to your friends like you usually are and Sam sits against the tree next to your table. He picks up on the middle of your conversation. “I dunno. I really like horror movies. Sure, they’re stupid and unrealistic but they have some strategy to them. Plus, if a masked man broke into my house and tried to kill me I’d probably fall in love with him.”

You say the last sentence jokingly and you and your friend’s laugh. It’s like right then and there, Sam gets the best, but worst, idea of his life. He wants you to like him so bad, that’d he’d become another person just so you will.

That night, you’re home alone and preparing to watch a movie. You’re wearing some shorts and a long t-shirt. You walk into the kitchen put popcorn in the microwave, then start to put the timer on when you hear the landline ring. You figure it might be your parents so you can’t ignore it. You walk over to it and pick it up, holding it to your ear. “Hello?” You say and you’re met with silence for a moment before a voice speaks up. “Yeah, who is this?” The person says. You pick it up as a males voice, and he sounds sort of young.

You’re slightly confused because he dialed you, but it could’ve been an accident “Um… well who are you trying to reach?” You say and you lean against the wall. You pick at your nails and wait for the person to respond. “I don’t know.” He says, almost in a charming tone.

“It sounds like you have the wrong number. It’s okay, it happens. Have a nice night.” You say and hang up the phone. You hum and make your way back into the kitchen when you hear the phone ring again. You pause your movement and turn back towards the hallway. “What the hell?” You mumble to yourself and walk back to the phone.

“Hello?” You say in an impatient tone. You lean back up against the wall and look at the clock. “Hold on, I wanna talk to you.” You recognize the guys voice. You sigh softly. “Okay, about what?” You reply and you twirl the phone wire around your fingers.

He chuckles. “Well, you sound kind of hot. And i feel bad for disturbing you so I wanted to talk a little bit. What are you doing?” He asks and you scoff. “There’s nine hundred numbers you could call, and you choose me?” You ask and you roll your eyes. You’re starting to get angsty because you don’t want to talk to some random stranger for too long.

You push yourself off the wall and untangle the string “If you really want to know, I’m getting ready to watch a movie. Can I go do that or are you going to hold me up all night?” You say and you start to tap your foot. You hear him chuckle again and it sounds like he shuffles his position. “Why so hostile sweetheart? I’m just trying to be nice.” He says teasingly.

You sigh again and look back at the clock. “Sorry, it’s just late and this is sort of strange.” You look out the kitchen window. “What’s your name?” You ask and you watch as the wind blows the leaves outside. “Why don’t you tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.” He says.

You have to hold back a groan because he’s starting to frustrate you and this conversation is clearly going nowhere. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Sorry but I really want to get to my movie, try calling someone else.” You say and you hang up the phone. You huff and turn on your heel when the phone rings again. You turn back around quickly and grab the phone angrily.

Before you get the chance to say anything, his voice comes though the speaker. “Someone looks angry. those shorts look so good on you.” He says darkly. You feel your heart stop and your whole body tingle. “What? Is this some sort of sick joke? Who are you?” Your voice is shaky as you speak. “You really wanna know who I am? Why don’t I come inside?” He says and you whip your head around.

“What? Are you scared?” He says with a hint of a smirk behind his voice. “You think I’m gonna break in there and hurt you?” Your hands are shaky and your vision is blurry as you look around you quickly. “What if I’m already inside?” He whispers into the phone and you gasp as you hear a door slam open.

You scream and move out of the way as someone in a ghost mask and dark cloak lunges at you. You run into the kitchen to grab a knife when you realize they’re missing. You continue to look for anything around you when you hear his voice from behind you. “Looking for something?” He says holds up a knife of his own. Your eyes widen in fear and you feel like you’re frozen in place.

He takes a step towards you and you turn and run towards the front door. You try to open it but realize the chain lock is in place and you’ll never get it open in time. The man tries to grab you but you dodge and then kick his legs so he falls down. You start to run up the stairs when his hand wraps around your ankle and you’re pulled down to him. You wiggle out of his grasp and take the stairs two at a time. You make it to your room and you slam the door shut. You open push your dresser in front of the door so he can’t get in.

Your chest feels like it’s on fire from how hard you’re breathing. You grab your cellphone from the bed and start to dial Sam’s number. He’s the only person you can think of in the moment. You don’t know if you’re going to die or not. He’d be able to get to your house quickly, but maybe not quick enough. Your fingers shake as you type in his number but you keep making errors.

You scream again as the man slams against the door and your dresser start to move. He’s going to get inside. You grab your desk chair and hold it out, preparing to use it as he slams against the door one more time and the dresser crashes to the floor. He opens the door and he steps inside. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as he walks closer to you. He stops just a few feet from you and tilts his head.

You take deep breaths and it’s almost like you’re looking death in the eyes. “who are you?” you breathe out shakily and point the chair at him. He raises his hands in surrender. The knife he’s holding is illuminated by your bedside lap. He brings the tip of it to the leg of the chair and runs it across it. You trace the blade with your eyes and he take it as an opportunity to grab one of the other legs of the chair and pull it out of your hands.

You gasp as he grabs you and pulls you to him. He presses the dull part of the blade to your cheek you suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. He drags the knife down your face until it leaves it. You turn your head to look the other way and you feel the knife back on your face as he uses it to turn you towards him again.

You open your eyes and look at the eye holes of the mask. You reach your hand up to pull the mask off when he grabs your wrist in a tight grip. You hiss slightly and he loosens his grip ever so slightly. You try bring your other hand up to surprise him but he snatches that one too. He holds your arms above your head and pushes you against the wall.

He runs the knife down your body, starting from your neck and ending at your stomach. You’re surprised when it gives you butterflies. You blame it on the adrenaline. You expect this to be the part where he stabs you but he just drops the knife and kicks it away.

Your eyes follow as it slides under the bed. You bring your gaze back to him. “You’re not gonna hurt me?” you ask confused and fearfully. He shakes his head no and leans slightly closer to you. “No. i could though. is that what you want?” He says and this time it’s his fingers that run over your face. You shake your head.

He chuckles. “i won’t hurt you. yet” He says and you can hear the smirk his voice. He places one of his hands on your waist, still holding your hands above you. “you know, i wasn’t lying when i said these shorts looked good on you. who are you wearing them for anyways?” he runs his hand over your thigh. “you got a boyfriend?”

You shake your head again. “what? you too scared to talk now?” He says and shakes his head mockingly. “you had so much to say earlier. what changed?” His fingers are still trailing over your thigh.

“i hope you know i called someone. and he’ll be here any minute.“ you say. you’re lying. you never hit the call button. He knows you’re lying. “aw.. is that supposed to scare me, sweetheart?” He says and he presses himself into you. He brings his face to your ear. “i’m not scared. you’re the one that should be scared.” He whispers.

You shiver and close your eyes. “please just leave me alone.” You whisper back. He pulls his face away and stares at you. He drops your hands and backs away from you. He reaches to the floor and picks up the knife. Your eyes widen as you realize you might’ve made him mad.

He steps back to you and he places the on your bottom lip. “i’ll leave now. but i’ll never leave you alone.” He says and he drags knife over your lip before stuffing it in his pocket. “Have fun princess.” He whispers as he walks out of your room.

As soon as you don’t hear him anymore you lunge for your phone and call the cops. You’re still very shaky and can barely get what you need to out. You just spit out your address and say that someone broke in before you hang up and call Sam.

“c’mon Sam. please pick up.” you say anxiously. You keep your eyes on the door incase he comes back. You hear the call connect and Sam’s tired voice come through the line. “Yeah?” He says and it sounds like he just woke up.

“Sam! Please, i’m so scared. Someone broke in and he had a knife and he held it up to me but he didn’t hurt me but he said he’d be back and-“ you’re talking so quickly Sam can barely keep up.

“Hold on, slow down. What? someone broke in? are you okay?” You can hear shuffling from the other end of the line, like he’s getting up.

You nod, even though you know he can’t see you. “i’m fine. but i’m still a little shaken up.” You bring your knees up to your chest.

You hear as Sam curses. “i’ll be there soon. don’t move. Grab something to protect yourself, and wait for the cops to get there. i’m on my way.” He says and he hangs up. “preferably not a fucking chair.” he mumbles and he throws the mask into the bushes so he can grab it later.

You lean against the bed and wait for Sam and the police arrive, thinking about the masked man and wondering if he really will be back.

#sam monroe #ghostface #life as a house #hayden christensen #sam monroe x reader #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker

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eureka-its-zico · 7 months

Note

This is sooooo random (‘m sorraay 🤭🥲) BUT

Zoro x Vampire Reader AU??? Idk It. just. Makes. SENSE (in my head)

Her sassy little ass having all these supernatural powers BUT he‘s still stronger than her when it comes to physical strength

THE TENSIONNNN 😩

Her sitting on his big thighs, lips ghosting over his neck, gentle scrape of her teeth along the pronounced vein in his neck (i‘m a giggling mess rn)

I‘m going feral for this man 🧍🏽‍♀️

So. I did a thing for you. Idk if you’ll like it, but I felt like since it is spooky season why not 🤷🏽‍♀️ this isn’t edited so…sorry bout that.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Vampire!reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: PinV, strangulation, semi-rough smexy, mentions of gore

It was nights like tonight when you reveled in the hunt. The little game of cat and mouse that always left you wondering if you were indeed the predator or if Zoro allowed you to be.

If you worried more about your survival and not the next time you’d see him you might have been able to tear yourself away.

All rational thought seemed to go out the window, however, whenever your eyes caught sight of powerful arms leaning against the wood of the bar. Broad shoulders that housed scar after scar that your nails had left as they’d dug into his skin.

Even now you could hear the low grunt pressed against your neck. The way his body stuttered with a delicious severity as you marked him. Zoro had only allowed himself a moment to pause before he was back to spreading you open and bare underneath him.

As much as you enjoyed feeling him unravel beneath you, Zoro loved it even more when it was you who bleed for him.

You walked the shadows of the room with your borrowed blood pounding in your veins. The excitement of the hunt makes you light on your feet. You are almost to him your hands about to cover his eyes to make him guess who when he’s already speaking your name.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming.”

It is what you said. The last time you’d seen him playing back in your mind until you felt your blood boil. He’d called you weak. How could you be weak when you could levitate objects and strong enough to crack a man’s larynx with your pinky. You were born to prey on those the world deemed weak and strong and yet…

Zoro surpassed you in strength and speed without ever breaking a sweat. He was never scared of you killing him, because he knew you couldn’t. Not unless he allowed it.

“Change of plans.”

He wouldn’t look at you. Only his peripherals glided over you as you leaned against the bar facing him. He was lazily drinking the last few drops inside his mug. Your eyes hungrily watched as the pulse in his neck ticked in time with each swallow, and the hunger that dried the back of your throat began to grow.

You could feel the irritation rolling off him in waves. While Zoro wouldn’t look at you directly, he was taking you in. You knew it was a matter of time before he realized your parlor wasn’t alabaster, but pink and rosy.

You’ve had your fill of someone else that wasn’t him.

You could hear the metal of the mug creaking in protest. His hands collapsed the metal around his fingers until he suddenly released it. The same hand he’d used to crush an unsuspecting mug now lashed out to grab at your arm before you could pull away.

A part of you wanted to try and pull your arm free. You hated the way the men in this bar regarded you like another weak piece of flesh. If only they knew what you were - if they knew Zoro was the only one able to tame you.

He crashed into the bathroom and didn’t release his hold on you until he slingshot you inside. His foot slamming the door shut behind him just before he locked it.

“Who was it?”

A shiver caressed its way down your spine at the rage that darkened his voice. The way it clung to your skin and promised to hurt you if only you misbehaved.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

Zoro was just there. His body pressing yours against the wall and a strong hand wrapped precariously around your throat. He squeezed just enough to make you gasp, your canines extending out like a snake set to strike.

Most people would be afraid, but you could already feel him growing hard against your stomach.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Who did you feed on?”

The hand on your throat tightened a little more, just enough to force your legs to rub together for some friction.

“You want to know how I sucked him dry,” your words struggled to free themselves from your lips. His hand was tightening as you spoke. “The way he groped at my breasts just before I tore open his throat.”

As you talked, you could hear his free hand struggling to remove the sash at his waist. His swords fell with a clank to the floor as his foot kicked your legs wider apart. You’d purposely worn this dress just to provide him with easier access to your cunt. You knew once his hand slid between your thighs, he’d feel how wet you already were. The wet sound of two fingers pushing past your folds filled the room and you your knees buckled.

Zoro knew how to drive mewling sounds of pleasure from your lips just like this. His fingers working you open - stretching and curving - just right until his hand was soaked. Your strangled breathing became more labored as your hips struggled to meet each flick of his wrist.

“How did he taste?”

“He tasted like a pig,” you sputtered, your hands clawing at his hand as you felt your climax building.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Please, Zoro, I-“

He knew what you wanted. You wanted to fuck him. You wanted to feel his cock stretching your walls and hitting that sweet spot only he knew how to guide you too. You wanted to bury your teeth into the delicate part of his throat and feel his warmth fill you from mouth to cunt. But he wasn’t going to give it to you. Not until you answered him.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No, fuck! It wasn’t you! I just want you!”

You knew he would’ve made you continue to beg him if he wasn’t just as desperate. The minute you felt his grip on your throat release just enough, you pounced. You moved him back to the sink. Your hands working his pants down just enough that his cock spring free.

You placed one foot on the edge of the sink and pushed up. Zoro’s hand instinctively grabbing at your ass to help hold you steady as you placed your other foot on the opposite side of him. He helped line himself up at your entrance before he pushed his cock inside giving you no time to adjust to his width.

It didn’t matter. You loved every inch as his hips pistoned up into you. His hands controlled the speed and depth as your perched feet stayed on the sink. The sound of your bodies meeting sent wet sounds of filth to fill the small space. You were so close - so close

Without warning, you reared your head back and struck down on his throat. The delicious copper taste of blood flooding over your tongue seconds later. For a brief moment, you felt Zoro’s body stutter at the shock of your teeth pressing down into his flesh, but he easily recovered.

Zoro held a map of every place your canines had been on his skin. You would continue to claim him and he would continue to let you. For he was the hunter and you his prey.

#anon #answered #I hope this is something you like nonnie or close to what you wanted #it is a Drabble so also sorry bout that lol #roronoa zoro #opla #opla zoro #one piece #one piece live action #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro smut

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pedroshotwifey · 29 days

Note

*slaps more money on the table*

👀 So basically, I can’t seem to finish any WIPs with this man, he is a ball of lust but I can’t write him. 😭😭😭

Javier Peña you and your sexy self frustrate me! But I also want to request a Drabble for my birthday (Sunday 3/31 - which I should have requested this earlier this week. 😖)

Anyway whenever you finish it is fine.

I would like some sweetness and smut from Javi because if there’s a time to be completely self-indulgent, it’s on your birthday. 🥳

Thank you in advance love! ❤️

*Gives money back*

This one's on the house. 😉

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NERDIE!!! 🥳🥳🥳

As requested, here is your birthday sweetness and smut:

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

W/C: 1.3k

Salty Sweet

*****

“Javi, are you home?”

You take a step into your dark and too-quiet apartment, looking around for any trace of your boyfriend. You know, despite the fact that you couldn’t get your birthday off, Javi was able to stay home so he’d be here when you got back. But so far, it looks like he might be out. You frown, more curious as to where he might be than upset though.

You sigh and slip your shoes off, exhausted from the day you had. It seems like you didn’t get a break at all on top of having to stay late. You love your job, but they really don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s your birthday or your last day on earth. If you want to keep up with the competitive pay, you better do what they ask, no matter how many hours of overtime you may be working.

You’re taking your coat off when you hear a sudden clatter from the kitchen, and then a whispered curse right after. You can’t help the smile that creeps up. This idiot is trying to surprise you. If you had to guess, you’d say he probably just slammed his foot into one of the chairs in the dark.

“Javi?” you try to keep the amusement from breaching your tone. He doesn’t answer, of course, so you make your way to the kitchen. You reach to turn the light on but stop in your tracks at the sight that beholds you.

The entire kitchen is decorated. There are fairy lights hanging on the walls and around the table, ribbons and balloons in your favorite colors spread tastefully throughout the room, lit candles on every surface, and a cute birthday banner hanging on the back wall. And in the middle of it all is Javi, standing next to the table which holds what might be the most beautiful little cake you’ve ever seen.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says through his beaming smile. He knows he did good.

Your eyes start to get misty as you walk toward him and throw your arms around his neck. “Thank you so much, Javi. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He tuts as he embraces you and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Of course I didn’t have to, but you deserve it, hermosa. So much.”

You lean up and press a kiss to his lips, a tear slipping down your cheek as you do so. You hadn’t realized how overwhelmed you’d been all day. Just as you deepen the kiss, Javi groans against your lips and forces himself back.

“One more thing,” he breathes against your mouth before moving to the fridge. You watch with peaked interest as he swings the door open and pulls out a can of whipped cream. He shuts the door and smiles devilishly as he shakes the can. You open your mouth to ask what the hell that’s for at the same time he pats the table.

“Hop up, cariño.”

It’s not until you see the mischievous glint in his eye that you understand what he wants. You immediately feel a throb between your legs. The two of you had talked before about doing something like this, but you hadn’t realized it would be happening so soon. Not that you complain as you quickly follow his instructions and clamber onto the table.

He smirks wildly at you as he pops the top off of the can and rucks your skirt up. You sit up and allow him to bunch it around your waist. A small shriek escapes your lips as Javi brings your panties down as well, leaving you bare for him.

You can already see the bulge pressing against his pants. When you look at his face, his expression is almost pained as he looks between your thighs.

“Gonna taste even sweeter now, baby,” he practically moans. His eyes flick up to catch your stare and he flashes you a smile. “Lay back for me,” he instructs. You obey quickly, laying down until the back of your head touches the table.

The first spurt of the cold cream comes unexpectedly, making you yelp as it lands on your clit and starts to slide down. Javi only laughs. “Always so sensitive,” he teases.

You whimper in response as you stare at the dimly-lit ceiling. Even though you’re not watching him right now, you know that Javi’s getting on his knees in front of you. He gently parts your folds with his thumbs as the melting whipped cream travels to your hole. Just as you feel it land there, he leans forward and scoops it up with his tongue, so gentle that it makes you shiver.

Your hips chase his mouth as he pulls away, but his hand comes up to push one of your knees.

“Javi, p-please,” you beg quietly. You’re almost surprised how quickly this has gotten you pent up.

He chuckles as you let your eyes drift to his kneeling form. “Patience, baby,” is all he says. He keeps his eyes on yours as he lifts the can again and squirts some whipped cream into his mouth and then sets it down again. He just winks before leaning forward and putting his mouth on your cunt.

You moan as he starts to spread it with his lips and tongue, making a complete mess out of you. The sensation of both the heat and cold makes you dizzy, delirious for more. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the cold and softness of it mixed with his strong, warm tongue as it begins to lick up and down and inside of you.

He holds your thighs open as he swirls your clit with the tip of his tongue before going lower and dipping it into your hole.

“God, you taste so fucking good, hermosa,” he praises through a groan.

“Feels good,” you moan in reply.

Suddenly, you feel his tongue push into you again, fucking you with the muscle as he reaches for the can again. He curls within you as he puts another squirt on your clit. When he comes back up to envelop your clit with his plush lips, the cream sloshing between the two of you, your hands find their way into his hair. You tug on the strands as he sucks harshly, flicking his tongue as he does so. He drinks up the cream and alternates between pressure as he swallows.

It doesn’t take long for you to start to feel your body warming in suspense of an orgasm. Javi continues to tease and suckle your clit, and when he takes a hand off of your thigh to slide a finger inside of you, you know you’re done for. He hooks his finger as he pumps it and you’re immediately clenching around it, moaning as you pull his hair harder.

He helps you through it, growling and sending vibrations to your twitching clit before removing his finger and licking up the mixture of your release and the whipped cream. He keeps licking and sucking until there’s barely a trace of the sweet dessert left on your cunt. When he’s done, he licks his lips and sits black to look at your face.

You’re panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and looking utterly gorgeous. He finds himself smiling as you shoot him a grin, already knowing what the next words from your mouth are going to be.

“Your turn.”

As much as he would like that, he knows it’ll have to wait a bit. He still has a pile of presents to give you and your favorite dinner to make. Tonight is about you, but he certainly won’t object if you still want to return this favor a little later.

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nosugarallspice · 10 months

Note

love your writing so much!!!

Erling 15 "makes me want to wreck you" + 36 possessive sex plsss🩷

thank you!! This was sexyyyy. You know I had to make him soft towards the end.

Minors DNI!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had invited you and Erling out to some party his friend was having and to be honest, you were a bit hesitant at first. Jack being your absolute bestie so you had to go. It was just from the moment you and Jack met, you both hit it off and there are often times where people think you guys are in a relationship; close touches, the whispers and giggles shared in the background or sometimes right out in the open but it’s strictly only friendship between the two of you.

So while you and Erling were at the party, you left him to mix and mingle with his friends while you went over to Jack. There’s no doubt that when you and him get together, you both are always gossiping, and always giggly with each other.

You would think that Erling knew this by now but for some reason, seeing you and Jack close, whispering to each other and giggling- it made his blood boil, causing his mood to instantly change.

Which lead you to now, you both left the party early. You were obviously confused because that’s not like him, you guys never leave parties early, if anything the party leaves you.

The Uber ride home was silent. He didn’t say a word to you nor did you say anything to him.

Walking inside the house, he slams the door shut. You being fed up with his attitude you turn around.

“What is your problem?” You stood in front of him, arms crossed over your chest.

“I don’t have one.” He shrugs you off moving right past you and into the bedroom.

You roll your eyes and follow behind. “You haven’t said a word to me since we left the party.”

Finally he turns to you.

“You wanna know what my problem is?” He spat, words cold. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his attitude but you nodded, “go on.”

The man took a step closer to you, the two of you a few feet apart and you looked up at him. “I don’t like to see you with Jack. Sober him is already annoying enough, but drunk him is all over you and you don’t say a thing. You let him fawn all over you.”

You laughed, right in his face. “Erling please, you sound so stupid right now. Jack is my best friend and not to mention, your teammate. There never was nor will there ever be anything between he and I.”

Erling’s hand rested on your hip, the man towered over you with your heels still on. You could feel his eyes all over you, fixed on the number 9 that hung off the chain around your neck. “Seeing you with him,” he starts, finger tracing along your collarbone, he looks up at you and hooks the chain around his finger. He pulls at it a bit, causing you to stumble forward with the force he pulled it.

His hand moved from the chain, the 9 sitting flat against your chest as his hand wrapped around your throat. Erling leans down, lips pressed to your ear. “It makes me want to wreck you.”

“Then do it.” A smirk on your face.

—

His hips slam into yours continuously. His pace is fast and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to drive you insane.

He insisted on doing it in front of the mirror, it was the perfect way to see your expressions. He already knows he makes you feel really good but to see it in your face? he could cum just from that.

“You like that, don’t you?” His eyes never leaving yours. His hands holding yours behind your back as he fucked into you.

You watch as he takes you from behind, with each thrust your body jerks forward from the force he’s using on you.

A string of groans and whimpers leave his lips. The way your walls wrap around him so perfectly. The sight of his cock disappearing into your needy cunt, was heaven.

“You belong to me.” with each word he slammed into you harder. “Only me.” This time he reaches forward, grabbing your hair pulling you up so he can whisper the last bit in your ear. “C’mon baby, say it. I want to hear you.”

“I-I belong to you, Erling.” You cry out, your eyes staring back into his. Moving your hips; thrusting back into him with whatever strength you have left in you.

Your eyes roll back as you reach your orgasm, your legs shaking violently as he fucks you through it. Later on spilling his seed inside you, pushing it deeper and deeper in.

After a nice long night of fucking, comes the cuddles. He may have been pissed off at you earlier but now? He just wants to hold you; and love on you.

You’re precious to him.

He carried you to bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean you up before pulling the covers over you both.

“I love you.” His voice was soft, as he laid a kiss to your head.

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lynn-writes-things · 2 years

Text

possessive - toji fushiguro x reader

aka the one where your toxic ex boyfriend Toji needs to remind you that you’re still his

wc: 2.5k

cw: hehe where do I begin 😅; 18+ only!!! ; dub-con ; technically non-con but not really??? ; possessive!toji ; toxic!toji ; he’s fuckin mean in this one ngl ; EXCESSIVE use of the word fuck ; rough sëx ; impact play (he uses his belt on you 😋) ; lots of manhandling ; f!ngering ; daddy k!nk (it’s toji duh) ; breeding k!nk ; uhhhhhhhh lemme know if I missed something!

"Toji Fushiguro, where the fuck are you!?" You yell, slamming the door to your house. He shouldn't be here, you broke up months ago, but you know him better. You saw the bastard earlier, on your way into the restaurant where your date just so happened to stand you up. Toji had been outside on his motorcycle, a cigarette resting between his lips as he flashed you his signature cocky grin and gave you a little two-fingered salute. Immediately, your eyes had narrowed, and when you got inside, you waited and waited, but your date never came.

Did it shock you? No. Toji's always been possessive, this is not the first man that he's chased off after the break up, and you knew that it would not be the last.

Unsurprisingly, the devil himself presents himself to you, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of whiskey in hand, taking a sip as he flashes you that fucking grin again. "Took your sweet time gettin' here, doll." He teases, downing the rest of the glass in two gulps before setting the glass down on the counter behind him.

"Don't you fucking 'doll' me, you fucking asshole." You spat, tossing your purse to the ground by the door and angrily stalking over to him, glaring up at the taller man. Truth be told, Toji was trying his best to hold back laughter - you remind him of a fucking chihuahua when you get so mad at him. All bark, and no bite. It's adorable to him, really. "What the fuck did you do?"

"What'd'ya mean, princess?"

"Quit with the fucking names!" You yell. "You know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about, now answer me - what the fuck did you fucking do?"

Toji clicks his tongue, fed up with that mouth of yours. His gaze goes to the ceiling before settling back on you, green eyes ablaze with barely sheathed anger, crossing his arms across his muscular chest and glowering down at you. You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat and try to fight the urge to cower away from his looming figure. But you've done this dance for far too long, and you refuse to back down this time.

"I suggest you watch your fucking mouth." The teasing nature had left his voice, and Toji can see the fear pass over your eyes. You know that he'd never hurt you - except for in the bedroom - but Toji was still an incredibly intimidating man. Even to you, even after years of knowing him - hell, maybe that made you even more intimidated by him.

"Yeah? Or fucking what? You're in my house, asshole, the hell are you gonna do?" You spit, glaring up at him, praying that your body isn't trembling.

It's sudden, the way that Toji's large hand grabs your arm in a bruising grip, pushing you against the wall. His other arm comes up to cage you in. His breathing is heavy, glaring down at you with anger burning in his venomous eyes - he's pissed. Yeah, you've known Toji for a long ass time, but this is the first time that you've actually been scared of him.

"What am I gonna do?" He repeats your question, voice full of venom. "I'll tell ya' what I'm gonna fuckin' do, I'm gonna remind you who the fuck you belong to, doll."

"G-Get off of me! I don't belong to anyone, especially not you." You try to hold your ground, pretending like your eyes aren't threatening to fill with fearful tears. Pretending like you're not breathing erratically, like you're not fucking terrified.

Toji merely scoffs, his lips twitching up in a dangerous smirk. He quickly snatches up both of your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand and situating himself so that one of his legs is between your thighs. You're vaguely aware of the tense muscle of his thigh pressed against your clit, trying not to think about it. Toji's free hand now comes to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him, to meet his intense gaze. "That's where you're wrong, pretty girl. You're mine, always gonna fuckin' be mine, you fuckin' hear me?" He growls, tightening his grip on your wrists, making you stifle a whimper at the pain. You're shamed, really, at the heat that's pooling between your legs, and you're desperate not to show it.

"T-Toji, you're hurting me." You seethe, trying to pull your arms free to no avail. He doesn't budge, not that you expect him to, Toji only chuckles bitterly under his breath, bringing his face closer to yours, practically snarling at you when he says, "Yeah? Tell me you're mine and I'll let you go."

"I'm not-" His hand tightens, free hand dropping from your chin down to your neck, giving your throat a warning squeeze.

"Try again."

"I-I'm not fucking yours!" You yell, you know that it's a wrong move when he squeezes the sides of your neck tighter, cutting off your oxygen supply. He's getting off on this, the panic in your eyes, because he can see right past it - he can see the lust hidden behind the fear.

"Ya' think so, huh?" He says lowly, voice practically a growl. In an instant, he rips his fist from your neck, fingers pushing up the hem of your dress and slipping straight past your panties, sliding between your folds. "Then why's this little pussy so fuckin' wet right now?"

"T-Toji, stop-" He shoves two of his thick fingers into your cunt, met with little resistance, but the intrusion makes you gasp. "Stop!"

"C'mon now, darlin', we both know you don't want me to do that." He smirks, fingers curling expertly to find your sweet spot, making you involuntarily whine and grind your hips down against his hand. "This pretty lil' pussy knows exactly who she belongs to. She's fuckin' gushin' for me, doll." There are tears in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks that burn with embarrassment, because you know that Toji's right, and you hate it.

"Toji, st- ah!" His thumb starts to circle your clit as his fingers continue abusing your g-spot. Toji attaches his lips to your neck, nipping at the spots that he knows are particularly sensitive. Your legs begin to shake as he continues his assault, biting your lip to try and prevent yourself from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you moan for him.

"Quit fuckin' acting like you aren't loving this." He snarls, biting harder with intent to leave a mark. "You'd rather act like a little slut, huh? That it? Rather give this pussy to the first horny bastard you see that ain't me?" He seethes, picking up his pace. You whine loudly at his words and at the force at which he's finger-fucking you, feeling the coil in your belly threatening to snap under his ministrations. Toji knows it to, knows exactly how close you are, so he slows his movements until his fingers still all together.

"N-No!" You whimper at the loss. "P-Please..!"

"Please?" He mocks, clucking as he pulls back to look you in the eyes again - he looks just short of deranged, and somehow that only serves to make your walls clench around his fingers. "You know what I wanna hear, pretty girl. If you wanna cum, ya' just have to admit it." He moves his fingers again, agonizingly slowly, making you whimper against your will.

You're stubborn, defiant to a fault, and while those are qualities that Toji loves about you, he fucking despises it right now. The hand around your wrists pulls you forward just to slam you back against the wall, curling his fingers right against your sweet spot. You look up at him with dazed, desperate eyes, filled with lust and tears - tears that Toji leans in and slowly licks up with a sinful groan. "I'm not fucking repeating myself, slut."

"'M yours.." You meekly whimper, swallowing your pride, your eyes looking anywhere but him as your cheeks burn even hotter. Toji chuckles, heart swelling with pride as he finally starts moving his fingers inside of you again.

"What was that, doll? A lil' louder f'me."

"I-I'm yours!" You cry out now, feeling the coil tightening again. "P-Please, Toji! I'm yours, 'm yours, please let me cum!"

"Uh-uh, not so fast, darlin'," He smirks wickedly, his hand finally dropping from your wrists to lift you up by your thighs, kneading the flesh there as he carries you into your bedroom. "Only way you're gonna cum is on daddy's cock." He says as he practically throws you down onto the mattress and wastes no time in stripping his shirt off, his pants following soon after. The familiar clink of his belt buckle is enough to make you shiver. Toji chuckles at the reaction as he kicks his pants and boxers to the side.

"Should I use that on ya'? Huh, pretty girl? Want daddy to use his belt on that sweet ass of yours?" He taunts, picking the leather belt back up and folding it, slapping it against the palm of his hand once, and you instinctively tense up. You're nodding before you realize it, your eyes widening when you catch your body's betrayal. "Hm, think you're right. Been such a naughty little bitch, haven't you? Think you need a punishment for how you were runnin' that dirty little mouth of yours earlier, too." He kneels on the bed, flipping you over onto your belly, not wasting time with the zipper to your dress, Toji opts to just rip the flimsy fabric off of your body instead. Any excuse to show off his strength, because he knows how much it turns you on.

"T-Toji!" You yelp at the sound of ripping fabric. "That was expensive!"

"Yeah fuckin' right," He replies, giving your panties the same treatment, tossing the torn garment by his pants, so that he can remember to snag them on his way out. "Now, where were we?" He taunts, lifting your hips so that you're on your knees, keeping your face pressed against the sheets. You yelp in shock and pain when the leather comes down hard against your ass with no warning. "That's right, daddy's gotta punish his disobedient lil' fuckdoll, don't he?" He chuckles. "Better count, babe." He says as he brings the belt down against your ass again.

"T-Two..?" You say in an unsure voice, not sure if he expected you to count the first one or not.

"Atta girl." He praises, landing another smack.

"Thre-ee!" You whine. "H-How many are you gonna..?" Toji chuckles darkly, dangerously, as he leans forward, pressing his chest against your upper back until his lips are grazing the shell of your ear. "As many as I fuckin' want." He leans back onto his knees to deliver two snaps of the belt in quick succession, you squeaking out the numbers.

"You wanted to be such a little slut, right? Wanted to let all these different men fuck this pretty lil' pussy? My lil' pussy?" The leather makes contact with your ass again. "Y'have any idea how bad that hurt daddy? Watchin' my baby tryin' to whore herself out like that?" He growls, snapping the leather of the belt against your ass even harder than before for several more harsh smacks until you're sobbing out the numbers.

"You. Are. Fucking. Mine, Y/N." He growls, one last smack before he's tossing the belt aside. "Don't you ever fuckin' forget it again." In one quick motion, he slams his cock inside of you, bottoming out in one deep thrust despite your shout of pain at the sudden intrusion. It'd been months since you last felt his massive cock inside of you, but Toji gives you no time to adjust, starting up a rapid pace immediately.

"T-Toji! Wait, p-please! Too big!" You cry, tears streaming down your face and staining the sheets below. If not for his hands holding your hips up, you'd collapse onto the bed.

"Aww, you can take it, doll." He coos, one hand reaching around to rub at your clit, helping your body relax. "C'mon now, make daddy proud." You can't stop your cry of pleasure as his thick cock hits all the right spots, the pain quickly subsiding as pleasure wins over. The pace of his hips increases, as does the speed of his calloused fingers on your clit.

"Daddy, please!" You gasp, feeling your twice-stolen orgasm quickly approaching yet again. "Gonna cum!"

"Who do you belong to?" He grunts, leaning over you again. Your hips fall as his free hand comes to brace himself beside your head, all the while his other hand never lets up on your clit.

"Y-You! 'M yours, daddy!" You cry out, desperate for release.

"Nuh-uh, baby, say my fuckin' name. Now.. Who. Do you. Belong to?" He snarls, each word is punctuated by particularly sharp thrusts, his pace turning positively feral now.

"Toji! Toji, I'm yours! 'M yours, I'm all fucking yours! O-Oh my god, Toji!" You scream his name as your orgasm hits you like a truck, your pussy gushing around him, squeezing his cock like a vice. Toji isn't far behind you, hearing you crying out for him like that the last straw as hot ropes of his cum explodes inside of you, painting your insides white.

"Fuck yeah, baby - fuck yeah. Good fuckin' girl, princess - fuck!" He grunts, shallowly thrusting into you, riding out his high while your pussy milks all the cum from his cock before he practically collapses on top of you.

"Maybe if I knock ya' up, you'll remember who you belong to, yeah?" He whispers huskily as he rolls off of you, turning you around onto your back and shoving a pillow underneath your ass to keep your hips elevated, not wanting a single drop of his cum to leak out. You can barely process a thing he's saying, your head still buzzing from your high, eyes still hazy as you look at him with utter cock-drunk adoration. "Y'want that, right doll? Wanna have daddy's baby?" He lays down beside you, head propped up by his hand, free hand coming to caress your belly. Dumbly, you nod your head, one of your shaky hands coming to rest on top of his.

"Wanna have your baby." You echo breathlessly. Toji thinks that you're beautiful always, always, but his favorite sight that he's ever seen is this. Right after he's fucked you dumb, and you're so sweet, so compliant with everything he says or does.

Unfortunately for you, your dazed confession stirs his cock back to life, primal hunger filling his eyes once again. He sits back up on his knees between your thighs, lining his cock back up with your slippery entrance and hooking your legs over his shoulders. He's slow in how he slides into you this time, more gentle, leaning over you and folding your body in half while he steals your lips in a searing kiss that has just a hint of desperation.

Toji is a strong man, no doubt. He's intimidating, feared, has a bad reputation, and he prides himself in having no weaknesses anymore. Well.. Almost. Toji does have one, huge weakness.. And that weakness has always been you.

"Let's fuckin' make you a mommy then, darlin'. You're not leavin' this fuckin' room til I have you all nice and pregnant."

#did not know where I was goin when I started this #I surprised myself ngl #didn’t know I had this in me #but uhhhhh YEAH!#toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin x reader #toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #k!nky toji hours 😌

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