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spitgobbler · 7 months

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Sweet Treat

I’m not a big halloween fan but I wanted to post at least something so here’s a smutty fic of fucking fboy leon at a Halloween party <3

pairing: fboy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

tags: fucking in Halloween costumes, handcuffs, dirty talk, pussy spanking, p in v, nipple play, fake fangs, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smut with a tiny bit of plot, unprotected sex

"Aren't you glad I forced you to come? You look smoking." Your best friend giggled, loud music blaring in her home. Her parents home actually, but they were out of town.

You stood there clad in a sexy black corset, a black mini skirt, and fishnets. Oh, and don't forget the fake fangs she forced you to apply to complete your vampire costume.

You look at her blankly, "Yeah, totally.."

It's not that you hated Halloween, the opposite actually, it was more so that you hated parties. The migraine inducing music, the over abundance of intoxicated people… no thanks.

Your best friend huffs with a eye roll. "See? This is why I said you need some dick. Get that attitude fucked out of you"

Grinning slyly, she pats your shoulder. "Let me get out of your hair."

When she walks away in her skimpy little nurse costume, confusion is visible on your features. What was she up to now?

A muscular arm cages you in before you could follow her, causing you to step back, pressing your back against the wall in surprise. Eyes trailing up to see who it was, you came face to face to a pretty blonde man in a cop costume with too many buttons undone than what would be appropriate for an actual cop.

“You’re so pretty that I’d let you suck me dry,” He flirts, one of his hands tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In more ways than one.”

Oh. That’s why your bestie fled.

The attention makes your thighs clench, he was coming onto you so strongly that you couldn’t help but be swept up in his advances.

“In more ways than one? These aren’t real fangs, you know.” You voice, trying to reject him at first despite how your body was beginning to react to his close proximity.

Leon just laughs, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before tugging it down to see your fake fangs. “Come on, it’s Halloween. I think I need to take you up to the station for being such a downer.”

He grabs your hand with a surprisingly gentle grasp and begins to lead you past the drink table and up the decorated staircase. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, Officer Leon Kennedy will take good care of you.”

You find yourself in some spare room, pressed up against the locked door. Leon’s warm hands trailing up your thighs teasingly as his lips press plush against yours.

A small moan bubbles from your throat when he pressed his tongue against yours, his thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips beneath your miniskirt to show his appreciation for your cute little sounds.

His touch is more tantalizing than you’d like to admit, your pussy growing wetter with each touch, kiss, and caress.

You whimper when his fingers tease you through your damp panties, grasping for his biceps that bulge against his cop costume.

“Ah, fuck, Leon.” Brows furrowing at his touch and your hips twitch.

Leon continues to drag his fingers against your panties, the miniskirt you wore bunched up at your hips.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” He breathes out, lips curling up pleased. “I know I do.”

Fingers nudging at your throbbing clit and rubbing messy, harsh circles against the sensitive bud, it has your breath stolen and jaw slack.

You whine out for him, “Please,”

Your pleas have him kissing your cheek sweetly as he brings you closer and closer to release, that warm pool of arousal building in your core. Those lacy panties separating his fingers from your weeping cunt adds to the mind numbing pleasure.

Mewling and whining, your hips rock to grind your clit against his fingers. “Close, m’so close.”

“Won’t you cum for me? Come on, I know you can.” Leon coos, slipping his digits through a opening in your fishnets and beneath your ruined garment with slight pressure that makes your legs go weak.

You gasp, moaning lewdly as your composure breaks completely. Pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and gush all over his fingers. Leon moans lowly at the sight, wet sounds squelching when he slows his ministrations to help you through your orgasm.

Pulling his fingers away, your mind is mushy when he eases you down onto your weak knees in front of him. When he fiddles with his belt, you look up at him with lust glazed eyes. Hands resting on his thighs and a fogged mind from your orgasm.

That lewd expression of yours makes his cock kick in his hand, taking a deep shuddering breath as his arousal flares.

Leon’s hand caresses your hair while his other slowly pumps his cock, a pearl of pre dribbling out. “I know you know what to do,“

It doesn’t even phase you that he’s hinting at your bloodsucking vampire costume, more intrigued by his taste and so you obey him. Lips pressing against his needy tip before your tongue slips out to lap at his slit, causing a long deep groan to spill from his lips.

“That’s it,” he praises, brushing your hair out of your face once more with a surprisingly intimate touch.

Licking at the vein on the underside, Leon grips your hair slightly as he shudders. His pretty blues gazing down into your eyes half lidded, as you tease his leaking cock.

His hand presses down on your head, wanting you to take him in your pretty mouth. “Watch the fangs, sweetheart.”

Relaxing your jaw, you slide his cock into your warm wet mouth and he whimpers from the suction.

“Shit, yes…” One of his hands press against the door for support, eyebrows knitting together from the feel of your mouth and tongue moving against his needy cock with every bob you make.

“Good fucking girl,” he hissed out, using the last bit of restraint left in him, Leon pulls you off him with a huff. “Spit on it, spit on my fucking cock.”

Wet saliva clicks in your mouth before pooling on your tongue. You spit a fat glob onto his cock which sends a shiver down his spine.

Leon’s cop uniform is straining at the buttons with how hard he’s breathing. “Stroke it,” He commands breathlessly.

“Like this?” You murmur, soft hand smearing your saliva over his dick along with his pre cum that oozes profusely from his flushed tip. Eyes looking up prettily at him for any sign of approval.

In which he nods, hands moving to help you up. Leon’s hands slip behind your back and begins to unravel the lace that held your corset snuggly to your form. “Let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

You nod appreciatively when your torso is freed from the confines of the corset, “Thank you.”

A groan falls from Leon’s plush lips at the sight of your tits, the corset forgotten at the floor. Leon picks you up with ease and presses you into the mattress.

Placing soft wet kisses to the flesh of your breasts with a hum. Your cheeks flush from the attention to them, it was something you felt that previous hookups tend to forget but Leon most certainly didn’t.

“Ah… mmh,” Gasping softly from the teasing kisses to your breasts.

Leon grins softly, “You like that? Fuck, you’re so pretty, so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He flicks his tongue against your nipple while his hand teases and pinches the other causing them to pebble up and harden.

A whimper rips from your throat when Leon pressed his tongue flat against it, before his lips circle around it and sucking gently.

You squirm beneath him, “O-Oh, s’good.”

The look he gives looks you is so proud and he sucks on your breasts eagerly. “Mm…”

“Don’t wanna forget this one, now do we?” His attention is now on your other breast, licking and sucking all over the sensitive and soft flesh.

It makes you whine, writhing and moaning from all of it and you swear you’ll go crazy if he doesn’t do something more.

Leon paints your chest in pretty shades of rouge and it doesn’t even cross your mind that once the two of you are done fooling around that everyone will see his marks all over your breasts because of your corset.

“L-Leon, come on already.” You whine.

You hear a metallic jangle and you’re flipped over, face down ass up. His strong hands pull your arms behind your back and the handcuffs he had for his costume are secured onto your wrists.

“Gonna have to cuff you for being so impatient, baby.” Leon pushed your miniskirt back over your hips and his hands clench at your fishnets, forearms and biceps tensing as he rips a hole in them right at your crotch.

The sound felt so lewd, sending even more waves of arousal to your cunt. Your panties were already no good and they just clung to your pretty pussy to the point where you wanted him to rip those too.

Leon settles behind you, moving your panties to the side to reveal your needy pussy. He groans right in your ear when he rubs the tip of his cock between your wet folds, a moan of your own spilling against the mattress.

“So fucking naughty, letting a cop touch you like this.” He murmurs to you, slowly easing just the tip in and he teases you with it. Gently and slowly, pressing his tip just barely in repeatedly, it leaves you wanting more.

You press your ass back into his pelvis, trying to get more of him inside and he chuckles breathily. “Quit playing around, want you to put it in.”

Leon lets a hand slip around your hip, spanking your clit just a bit. You jump and choke out a whimper, desperation doubling when he spanks it again.

“I always give it to pretty girls like you, don’t worry.” He reassures with one more spank to your clit, making it throb.

Mounting you from behind Leon eases his fat cock into your wet hole, hands writhing in the cuffs from the pleasurable stretch.

Both of you moan and being the nice guy he is, Leon gives you a moment to adjust before fully sheathing himself inside of you.

The feeling in your cunt is so full, absolutely stuffed with his thick cock and it has you mewling already. Breathing all heavy and cheeks warmed with arousal and desire.

“Please, let me move,” Leon begs quietly, grasping at your hips. “…please.”

It’s like he’s become desperate once he’s inside your warm wet pussy, walls snug around every inch of him. He wants, needs, to feel you cum around his cock.

You nod, giving him permission to do as he pleases and Leon whimpers, rocking his hips into you slowly before increasing his pace. His tip smushing and pressing into your cervix, Leon grabs at your hands that were cuffed behind your back and uses them as leverage to fuck into your tight cunt harder.

Eyes rolling back, Leon groans, “F-Fuck, gonna make you my girl with a pussy like this.”

“Yes… yes!” Back arching like a cat as he dicks you down so good you might have to come back for more.

His pelvis smacks into your ass with each harsh thrust, sharp slaps of sticky skin ringing out that’s drowned out by the Halloween music downstairs. You writhe beneath him, his cock making you tremble and moan out into the sheets.

The strain in your cuffed arms burns but oh god, the way it’s blurs with the pleasure of Leon’s cock sliding in and out of you, reducing you into a needy, whiny, whore.

It was so sloppy, the wettest nastiest sounds squelching from your weeping pussy and he just fucks you even more eagerly with the lubrication of both of yours arousal.

“Wanna cum, Leon…” you slur out, drooling as your eyes flutter back. Mind all mushy that it can only process the way Leon abuses your cunt in such a toe curling manner .

He huffs, letting go of your cuffed arms to reach around your hip like previously, he spanks your clit and moans when it causes you the clench around his cock with a strangling grip.

“Cum. Cum for me, god, need to feel it,” Leon pleas, rubbing your clit in frantic messy circles when he feels his own climax bubbling. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

With a few more thrusts accompanied by his fingers busy with your swollen clit, you feel that familiar warmth before it spreads throughout your body.

“A-Ah, ah, m’cumming!” Your orgasm crashing against your senses, cumming all over his cock which triggers his own release.

Warm seed spilling into your tight little pussy with a whimper that falls into a long moan, Leon’s thrusts faltering as his chest heaves and his cheeks flush. Pretty blue eyes clenched shut and brows furrowed as he takes in the waves of his release.

After a few moments, he eases out of you and removes the fake cuffs, helping you lay comfortably on the bed before flopping next to you. Both of you breathing heavily as your mind begins to solidify out of that mushy state Leon put you in.

Your eyes blearily look at the blonde when he cuddles up to you so sweetly, which is a change of pace from what just occurred.

“I know things are a bit reversed, but,” Leon gulps in some air as he comes down from his high and he looks a tad bit nervous. “Why don’t you let me take you on a date?”

As you walk hand in hand with Leon, strolling through the park and enjoying the ice cream he bought you, you felt a vibration in your purse.

“Can you hold this?” You ask, extending your cone.

He smiles and nods, “Anything for you, pretty girl.” Letting go of your hand, he takes it from you and sneaks a quick taste of the flavor you got with a pleased hum.

Fumbling and rummaging in your purse, you finally grasp your phone and check the message your bestie had sent you.

‘I know I said you needed some dick but why my parents room?’ It read.

You giggle loudly, shooting her a quick, ‘Oops!’ before slipping your phone back into your purse and resuming your date with Leon.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #fboy!leon #fboy!leonkennedy #fboy!leon x reader #fuckboy Leon Kennedy

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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GRAY GROUSE (XIV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XV ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 3.2K

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, angst, mentions of guns & weapons, gore mentions, talks about shootings, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind isn’t itself as you hear every clink of your cane hitting the floor. It echoes inside the cage of your skull—amplified like not even a brain sits there with its pulsing flesh.

You can hear every one of your broken footsteps taking you farther away from him.

“When you get in there…” Laswell’s words blur heavily.

Gaz was leaving. He was leaving now. The Brit was walking out onto the tarmac—entering the metal of a cargo hold before he settled down for the long flight to Russia. Joining back up with his Task Force. So why was a part of you still trying to make your feet turn around to follow?

Joey lowe.

The name snaps you out of your brooding thoughts—your shaky fingers as they strangle your cane.

“...Be watching the entire time.” Kate sighs under her breath, and from the corner of her eye, she glances at you. “You don’t have to worry about the possibility of him attacking you. He’s fully restrained to his chair.”

“I’m not worried,” you mutter. “Let’s just get this over with already.”

The woman’s stare narrows, glancing behind even if she knows that the Sergeant wouldn’t be sneaking after you. That wasn’t how Kyle was. But still…a part of her looked.

“I couldn’t agree more. Follow me.” Kate pulls ahead and guides you along.

Staring at the back of her head, you fight the sharp sting behind your eyes, but even you can’t force a knife out of your skin and expect it not to hurt.

When Laswell hears a stubbornly inhale, she doesn’t even mention it.

The walk isn’t long, and while the bullet wound on your thigh pulls, you welcome it as a distraction. Your other hand had slipped into your pocket, reaching for your coin, but when it had brushed the picture that you’d folded inside, that almost kiss flashing through your consciousness, it nearly left you bending over yourself.

A door appeared ahead of you, your pulse as loud as a roaring lion.

“Remember,” Kate moves her keycard from her lanyard. A firm glance. “We’ll have eyes on the entire time.”

Like a phantom, you enter the unlocked barrier just as it beeps.

Joey is just how you remember him—except now he was minus the bulletproof vest and the gun in his hands. Perhaps you’d just become used to all of this because the memory slips off of you like water to a metal surface; it doesn’t matter. There were only so many things that you could tear at your mind about at one given moment.

Gaz seems to take precedence, and you have a deadly knowledge as to why.

Lowe’s eyes move up as you slip inside, letting the door close behind you with a definitive lock. It’s a classic interrogation room—like the one you’d been brought to when all of this started. Sitting in a metal chair, the man that had been sent to kill you was reduced to a flushed mess of tanned skin and a bruised, bald, head. The sunglasses were gone, just as the lower face covering. Now, all that you saw was the round face directed right into yours.

“You,” Joey snarls, hands yanking at the handcuffs that leave him restrained to the table. Your eyes slip to his middle. The padding of bandages was thick—just like the ones on your thigh.

“You shot me,” you blankly comment, feet moving closer.

Like a droplet of blood hitting the floor, your heartbeat echoed through the tingle of your nerves; raced up and down your spine.

Answers.

You were done playing all of these pieces in someone else's game. The videos on your father’s laptop, every lead stopping at a brick wall just when the reveal was at the tip of your tongue—it was ending.

“Should’a done more than that, Brat,” Lowe snaps, hands swelling with blood.

“Careful,” you numbly glance upwards. Locking your eyes with his for but a moment. “You’ll break skin.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Lips flickering, you grasp the second chair’s back, peeling it out with a huff and delicately placing yourself down until you can sigh out the tension.

But the man’s words are more layered than he’d like to admit—you picked up on it instantly. Fear. You knew because, in every instance along the long line of this story, your own sentences had been dripping with it; that undertone like a sharp knife. It was bleeding from his heart.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath, glancing at the large wall of one-way glass to your left. You can’t see anything, but you know people are back there. Waiting. Your head swivels back. “Then why are you shaking?”

Joey’s eyes burn you one glare at a time. The man only stops when he grunts in pain, midsection bending in as his throat clears quickly.

How quick you’d gone from the one in the very same situation as him, to the one holding the gun. It was almost poetic.

Again your mind slips into images of Gaz’s brown eyes, a longing growing the more you can’t look over your shoulder and find him waiting for you. You nearly do just that—turn around. Head half-turned until it hits you like a strike of lightning.

Your father’s journal sits heavy, hidden in your coat.

“I don’t expect you to tell me anything worth my time,” Joey looks up at your words, face tight with aggression. “But I want you to listen.”

You let that pause linger, and the hired gun is about to yell at you again before you do the best thing you can: lie.

“We have the laptop,” you shrug, licking your lips as your thighs move over the chair to re-settle. A spark of heat moves through your wound. “And we also know who hired you and Samson. Nothing you tell me will be worth my time,” you tilt your head, “because we already know it all. The game’s over.”

“That’s bullshit,” Joey laughs. “You expect me to believe that? I had a deal in place—nothing’ll break it ‘cept my damn death.”

“We struck a new one,” you utter, and suddenly his eyes aren’t hard to look into at all. A bout of courage overtakes the raging waters of your hope that Kyle will come through the door and back you up on this.

But he won’t.

“You,” Lowe looks increasingly more panicked. “You’re lyin’. The fucking government would never take up a deal with Chiyou.”

Your eyes take on a sharp hue, honing in. The entire air goes tight with eagerness.

“It’s the government,” is all you dryly state, trying not to sound so excited.

Joey’s eyes dart to the one-way slashing around frantically. His pulling at the cuffs gets harder, and the blood that falls only moments later makes you stare. If it were someone else, maybe you would have cared.

“Now’s the time to clear your name,” you continue, motioning a hand as your other plays with the material of your cane. A flicker of something moves along your face—mimicking his very words from when the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of your head. “You should be thanking me…”

“I’m not—”

“Tell me about Samson,” you interrupt, eyes stuck on him. Anger begins to overtake you—building. Your body leans forward in the chair stiffly. “Tell me about how he wasn’t strong enough to get the job done.”

“If you already know, why are you asking?!” Blinking, you send a glance up and down Joey’s body. He was shaking in pain, and you had no doubt that his stitches were pulling. No one had come in from the other room to tell you to stop.

And you were always so stubborn, anyway.

“I think we’re done,” you shrug. “I was right—you can’t tell me anything.” Standing, you move as if a walking bone to a chained dog, slinking through gore and blood until you’re already to the door. Feet slow and steady, you raise your knuckles to knock. Like clockwork, a thunk of the lock lets your hand shift to the handle, grasping it and adding pressure to—

“Wait!” You push open the door, head sticking out only enough for Kate’s stiff-eyed form to show from the room a foot away. She has herself half in and half out of the frame, watching you closely.

Raising a slow brow at her, your body pivots back and disappears once more.

Perhaps this was so easy because Lowe was retrained. If he hadn’t been, things could be wildly different. Gaz would have told you that even if he was cuffed, this was still not your job. You shouldn’t have to do this.

The door behind you closes once more.

Staying on your two feet, you tap your fingers against your cane and incline your head. “You have the floor, Joey.”

“You’ve just signed my death warrant,” he barks, eyes still unable to stay still. “You don’t know what you’ve done. I need a deal—I-I need witness protection.”

“Talk,” you hiss. Impatient nature rearing its head, you glare tightly.

Kyle must be on the C-17 by now—maybe it was even taking off as you were having this conversation. Why did you feel so anxious about it? Why were your feet still wanting to turn even when you were on the cusp of blowing this wide open?

He can’t really mean this much to you…can he?

“Samson was too good of a guy to get stuck in this, dammit!” Dark eyes lock with yours, and you frown. “All the decent ones are already dead, and it’s your fuckin’ fault.”

“I’m failing to see how I’m supposed to care at this point,” you dryly spit out.

Joey’s head shakes back and forth, bald head shiny in the overhead light. “Yeah, I’m not that surprised, Sweetheart. Samson let you live, but, hell, I’d have put a bullet in you a thousand times before I did that to your father.”

Your spine tightens up. Lowe keeps talking as your heart stops beating.

“Fuckin’ fool,” Joey’s jaw clenches, his wide face bright with rage. “He should have just gone through with the orders—it would have been quick; he would have been alive to see his girls grow up.”

You partially open your lips but stop yourself quickly. He has to keep going.

“I knew he was too damn righteous for that; knew he wouldn’t kill you like he was supposed to. Damn idiot went and shot the fucking husband instead. God. Served with him and everything—I know that bastard didn’t kill himself.”

Wide-eyed, your thigh throbs as your entire body seizes up.

Joey tries to stand, growling and yelling becoming increasingly more violent; and still, that fear stays in his eyes—deep into his soul.

“You’re ex-military,” you whisper under your breath. Louder, “Tell me what you know about Chiyou,” you snap. “Who is it?”

“This is your fault!” He shouts, and the table jerks against the bolts holding it to the floor. You flinch, taking a small step backward as your face blankly of all else besides thinly veiled fear. “You’ve got your hands all in it! It’s you!”

Alarms blare over the speakers with the sharp screech of dying dragons.

Gasping, your head snaps to the one-way in shock—the lights flickering overhead as you blink quickly, confusion making your heart speed. The sound is so sharp your free hand has to physically snap to the side of your head to cover one of your ears—mouth releasing a fast yell.

Your back shifts to slap into the door, and with a quick hand, you reach for the handle. Yet, it opens before you can even touch it; fingers grapple for your clothes as you’re peeled out.

Joey screams above the alarm.

“Don’t leave me here! Don’t! It’s what they want—!” The door slams as Kate bullies you down the hallway quickly. Soldiers rush past.

In her hand, she holds the body of a small pistol.

“What the hell is going on,” your voice is smoother than you thought it would be, but nonetheless firm. You hurry along as fast as you’re able, adrenaline taking most of the intense pains and stacking them away for now. Namely, the one in your heart. There’s no time to think over what you’d just uncovered about this plot—no time to act on it.

“I’m getting you to a secure area,” Kate levels, not fully answering you.

“And are you going to explain on the way, or…?” You trail off, eyes digging into her and voice loud above the noise. A man rushing past clips your shoulder, and you stumble before your cane stops your fall. Laswell’s grip gets harder.

“Your mother was attacked in the medical ward. We don’t know who did it,” the woman explains in a swift breath.

Your face blanks, snapping over to her even as countless other people nearly run into you. Shouts and yells spring up—guns carried in hard grips as the sounds of boots connecting with the floor make you beg to hear more familiar ones.

But an instinctual glance behind you leaves nothing but electric air and millions of bodies of people you don’t know. You have to admit, that makes you more scared than anything that was revealed previously.

“Is,” you stutter, head jerking back to Kate. “Is she okay?! What happened, she was supposed to be safe here!”

“You need to focus on yourself,” is the harsh and blunt answer. Blue eyes grace yours, sharp as you’re taken down the next hallway on fast feet.

“How many times am I going to be told that before you people realize it’s not going to happen?” You shout, but it’s lost to the blaring, insistent, noise that makes your head ache the longer you’re out here—stuck in the bright lights and the screams.

It reminds you of the park.

Shoved into a side room, you’re released to stumble for a moment as Kate jerks the door closed with a rattling frame.

“It is going to happen,” she looks at you, hand low at her hip as she motions to you. “Kyle isn’t here anymore to watch you. Until this is over, you have to rely on your own skills to keep you safe.”

You narrow your eyes in disbelief, a sneer coming to your lips. Your body steadies itself as your breaths come quick.

“Isn’t that literally someone else's job? I’m sorry to tell you this, Laswell,” you growl, moving closer, “but I don’t know how to deal with hitmen!”

You’re given an unimpressed look before Kate shakes her head and frowns at you.

“You’re smart—Kyle saw that. But you make stupid decisions.” You move your hand out in a hostile gesture, teeth snapping like a dog. “You need to think, Spitfire. The pieces are all laid out, you know the answer to this.”

Confusion now overtakes that feral panic.

“What are you talking about?” Kate moves to you, grabbing at your shoulder with her free hand. You glare into her eyes, blinking away after a minute of contact.

“No one can figure this out but you. You’re the catalyst. It starts and ends with you—Lowe gave you the last of it. There’s an answer here, and you’re not willing to see it.”

“Where’s my mother,” you bark in question, annoyed at this line of conflict. “You’re not making any sense.”

Kate takes a step back and stares heavily at your face. She licks her lips and says slowly, the words nearly lost to your ears above the alarms, “Too many men and women have died over this already. You know that.”

“What I know is that you’re making my head explode!” You shout. “You’re going on and on about this—what about you?! You and your little Task Force that doesn’t even know the people they work with!” Your mouth moves in a laugh. “You send off the one person who I’m starting to trust, and then I find out Samson was meant to kill me.”

“We should be glad he didn’t,” Kate tilts her head. She’d gone too far in life to gain that sheen of guilt now. Her experiences were a long line of statistics and facts.

You were the target, now the question had shifted as to why. You had never been involved in any illegal activities with your father—there was never any evidence of that, and everyone knew it to be true.

One question leads to another, and another, and another.

You knew something. Something that you maybe didn’t even know yourself yet. But time is rapidly coming to a close.

“We should be glad I didn’t leak your fucking file onto the internet when I had the chance,” you point, teeth bared. “I’ve seen it—I know how you work. It’s goddamn disgusting the things you do.”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Laswell utters, frowning. “It’s my cross to bear.”

“Oh,” you laugh sarcastically, “so high and mighty. Kate Laswell—a martyr.”

Kyle seemed to have taken the key to your anger with him and left the door wide open. Your cruelty slipped through the frame to bleed its black blood over the hardwood floors like some possessed dog, dragging itself home time after time for only a faint memory of warmth. You were just so angry all of the time. Being here—around these people; these bases and the secrets.

Every ounce of you is bathed in wrath.

“Trust me,” you grin numbly. “My eyes are wide open.”

Blue stares into you, unblinking until the earpiece makes the woman move back and press her fingers up to it—to listen above the noise.

All she gives you is a firm and unemotional, “Are they?” Before her face turns away from you.

You clench your jaw and scoff, neck shifting as you tap your cane into the ground. The wound burns, but your free hand easily moves into your jacket pocket and presses into your coin—digging your palm into it. A distraction, maybe.

But all you can think about is how Gaz would be giving you that disappointed look and turning his head away. It makes you want to throw something.

His stupid hat; stupid voice. How he carries himself—how he felt so guilty about his part to play in this.

How he left.

He left you here.

With your mother, with Laswell. He regretted it, sure…and the worst part was that you’d entirely forgive him if he came through that door right now. For everything. But, God, please don’t make him leave you here alone after everything he’s done to make it right.

The realization makes your eyes water, a sting again forming. You wanted him here with you. You wanted his jokes and his smile—that smirk of his. Gaz’s stories about his trials and his achievements.

His history.

You could study all you wanted about that topic, but the section that was titled his own would always be the most interesting. He’d snuck in and grappled onto the place between your ribs; he’d stuck a knife into your heart and refused to peel it out—to let you bleed him away.

Damn him, damn him, damn him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Kate’s face goes grim while you fight your own inner monologue. Her sentence rips you out of the bubble you’re stuck in.

“Lowe’s dead. Get ready, I’m moving you across base.”

TAGS:

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ciitroner · 5 months

Note

What if Y/N tries to kill herself because her kidnappers Johnny and Simon won’t let her go ,or kill them in desperation to get back. Anyway backstory 3 when I need to know how she gets herself kidnapped😞😩

Warnings: slight nsfw, mention of murder and suicide (nothing too extreme, I think. Yet, if you’re uncomfortable, don’t continue. It gets worse and worse.)

This is probably a boring answer: they’re smart people, they know not to leave anything sharp or something else you could hurt yourself with near you. Your handcuffs surely do the work of sometimes making you bleed if you move too much, trying and failing to get out.

If they’ve had a relatively good day, they’ll let your hands out of the cuffs. Bringing your almost limp body up to its feet (you haven’t moved much, as you were obviously cuffed during the hours they were gone.

“Cannae let ye out of yer cage, birdie.” You don’t trust them, they don’t trust you.

You get slightly lightheaded as Soap plays with you like a ragdoll cat, it’s tolerable until it’s not. He makes you do deep stretches, kicks your feet apart and bends you down - pushes his dick into your clothed cunt, and calls you his good little kitty. You make an effort to punch him between the legs while bent, although you don’t make it very far until Ghost grips your arm tightly.

You hiss and almost tear up, and they notice the slight bleeding. They’ll set you down on the bathroom counter and care for you, in their own ways. Your heart slightly softens in these moments, when it feels like they actually care like normal people, but they’re not normal people. And you know that very well.

Maybe something happens and they both have to run out of the bathroom to fix something. Gives you enough time to search for something sharp in the bathroom. You find a small pocket knife, and decide it’s your saviour.

Highly unlikely, but if you’re able to sneak up behind one of them and stab them in the back, you’ll get yourself a hard shove from the other, and you’ll get treated even worse afterwards. The knife was not enough to kill, but only enough to worsen the situation.

You stab yourself, they’ll find you before it’s lethal and make sure you never leave their eyesight ever again. They’ll be soft until your wounds heal, but their coldness manages to make you shiver still.

Fun answer: you kill one of them, the other will kill you, before killing himself. I cant see any of them wanting to live on alone, nor live with you without wanting to strangle the air out of your lungs everytime they see you.

Let’s say you kill them both, you’ll escape! Hopefully you’ll remember one of their passwords and being able to call the police. And then you spend the rest of your life in therapy, probably.

You manage to kill yourself! Congrats. They’re gonna keep your body :D

(Or well it kinda depends, if it’s the first month they’d probably bury you. If it’s gone maybe a year, they’d keep it since they can’t handle being without you. If it’s been a few years maybe they’ll join you in the afterlife)

#qna #kidnap!au #part 3 comes when it comes lol #call of duty #cod #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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rezwrites · 1 year

Text

Playground

Pairings: Dark!Wanda Maximoff/Reader/Dark!Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Wanda has to go out of town for a bit, leaving you in Natasha’s care.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Stockholm Syndrome, Sensory Deprivation (blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, handcuffs), claustrophobia (locked in a closet) threat of bodily harm, cursing, hair pulling, semi-public sex, fingering, overstimulation

Masterlist :: Series Masterlist

Natasha was around a lot more since that night at dinner. Unfortunately, because of that you started to act out. You didn’t like that she invaded your space, or was even in the same room as you. Not to mention when she hovers over your cage when try to take your afternoon naps. Wanda scolded you whenever you refused food from Natasha, always pushing the plate away not eating until Wanda gave in and fed you.

Wanda had only tolerated your misbehavior around Natasha because she thought you just had to get used to her. Natasha had offered to make dinner, your favorite. Neither of them thought you would throw the plate of food at Natasha’s feet as she walked back to the counter. Natasha just stood there stunned, while Wanda pushed you up the stairs by the back of your neck.

———

“Want to tell me what’s wrong, Bunny?” You just huffed, pushing your face further into your blanket trying to ignore the stinging pain of your ass from Wanda’s spankings, knowing you messed up when you saw her pull out the wooden paddle. Wanda was so disappointed that she had to use something more effective to get you back in line, but you could see the thrill behind her eyes that she got to punish you. You mumbled out that you didn’t that you didn’t like Natasha, that you didn’t want to call her Mama.

“Well you better start because she’ll be watching you when I leave. I’ll be gone for a week.” Shaking your head you begged her not to go, profusely apologizing for dinner. Cupping your face in her hands through the bars she cooed, ”I have to go, Bunny. Don’t give me those tears, and if hear of anymore misbehavior,” she roughly gripped your jaw, “I might have to find a way to permanently keep you obedient.”

———

Wanda had woken you early before the sun rose, bringing you downstairs to your playpen, settling you in a makeshift bed. You clung to her as long as you could before she lulled you back into a deep sleep, tucking you under your star blanket.

“Eat your breakfast, Bunny.” Natasha ordered as you stared at your plate. Hearing her voice only made you grumpier. First, she had gently shook you. Responding by groaning and pulling your blanket of your face. She had returned every few minutes, each time pulling you out of your half conscious limbo. Natasha got fed up and raised her voice, startling you out of a sweet dream about Wanda. The second you smashed the plate by her feet you snapped. Standing up yelling at her to leave. Stomping your foot, crying that you wanted Mommy, all while she looked at you with a straight face. Slowly standing up, a smug smile creeped onto her face, “Oh, you have gotten so bold, Bunny.”

Pain twisted onto your face as Natasha’s hand flew to your hair. Tugging you up stairs into the bedroom, throwing you against the chest that sat at the foot of Wanda’s bed. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again!” she roared, kneeling on your back, digging into the chest. Natasha wrestled your hands into handcuffs, before cuffing them to your ankles, making you bend forward so much that your ears were touching your knees. Once the blindfold was on you begged her to take it off, only to be unable to hear anything when she secured headphones over your ears. Wriggling and screaming with everything you have as you were dragged on the floor. You were shoved in somewhere small, the cold drywall touching you, feeling the door of the space vibrating as it was slammed shut. Pounding your body against the door, screaming for Natasha let you out. You pushed your body against the door as much as you could before giving up. Hanging your head you focused on your breathing, trying to slow down your heart beat, attempting to keep yourself centered. Your mind drifted to the box, not having been in a tight enclose space since then. You thought about how lonely it was, time stretching and warping around your mind. Relief filled you when you finally felt vibrations of footsteps growing stronger, stopping just before the door.

“M-mama?” You felt the soreness in your throat, not knowing if she could hear you, “Can I please come out? I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” You started falling when the door was opened, Natasha catching you before you hit the floor. Wanting to cry when she took the headphones off, being able to hear Natasha’s heart beat as she held you.

“Tell me why you’ve been misbehaving,” she commanded softly as she unlocked the handcuffs, helping you sit up.

“It’s not just Mommy and me anymore. It’s different now.” You mumbled, pressing your face in her chest.

“I only want to take care of you, Bunny, but I won’t hesitate to punish you and remind you of your place.” Regaining your sight you saw that you were in front of the storage closet at the end of the hallway. Scooting into her arms nodding, “I’ll be good, I promise.” Carrying you back to the kitchen you caught sight of the time on the microwave. You had only been in the closet for half an hour but it felt like an eternity. Natasha put you down and served you another plate of food, making sure you ate it.

———

The next few days passed in a flash. Natasha would set up your playpen in the office while she worked so you could watch the fish, only stepping in after asking. You took all her meals without a fuss. She even got you a new toy to keep you occupied, a small chewy lettuce head that squeaks. Falling in love with it instantly, you obsessively chased the squeaker that moved around.

Today was unexpected. Instead of going to the office after breakfast Natasha dressed you up, packed a picnic bag, and put you in the car, kissing your temple as she secured your seatbelt. The car hummed to life before Natasha pulled out of the gravel driveway. She placed a hand on your thigh, noticing your quickened breath, looking over to see you scanning the trees frantically. Pulling off to the side she laid your seat back to let you lay down, grabbing your blanket from the back to cover you. Natasha held your hand as she drove on. The ride was peaceful, Natasha jammed out to the radio the whole time, her braids swinging wildly as she bopped her head to the music.

Natasha squeezed your hand, signaling that you could get up once she stopped the car. Sitting up you saw that you were at an old park, surrounded by trees. It was an open space with a treehouse like play area in the forefront, a concert walking trail that loops around the park and breaks off into the trees, and tree resting on the hill in the back overlooking the park. “It’s alright, Bunny. No one is here, nobody will see you,” Natasha voice calmed you as she helped you out of the car.

Natasha laid out the picnic blankets and food while you looked large sturdy oak tree above you in admiration. You noticed how many carved marks and hearts it had around its trunk, and wondered how many things it’s seen in its lifetime. Pulling you into her lap, Natasha began to feed you, making sure you ate the vegetables first. Wanda had warned Natasha that the only way you would eat your vegetables is if you have sweet fruit to chase them.

After you finished, Natasha made you lay down so your stomach could settle before she let you play around the park. You focused on the way the leaves shook in the gentle breeze, enjoying the fresh air. Creaking drew your attention to the swing hanging from the other side of the tree. Running over, calling for Natasha to push you. Hurriedly packing everything up, she ran over and started pushing. Each time you got higher and higher until the top of your head was almost reaching the branches.

“Too high!” You fussed dragging your feet to slow down, Natasha catching you. The swing came to a full stop, Natasha cooing that she’s got you. Maneuvering to where she was sitting down, allowing you to wrap yourself around her while she slowly swung, rubbing your back. Natasha kissed a trail from your temple to your lips, her honey-cherry chapstick sticking everywhere she kissed. Continuing her trail down your neck she pulled your shirt down revealing the healed WM on your collarbone, lingering a kiss there, “We’ll have to update this, won’t we?” A frown broke out on your face remembering how much it hurt when Wanda made that, dreading to go through the pain and healing process again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt as much this time,” attaching her lips to yours Natasha slipped her fingers under your plaid sky-blue skirt, running them up and down your slit swallowing the tiny noises you make.

She mentally thanked Wanda for the no underwear rule. Your hips stuttered when she teasingly brushed your clit, her low sultry chuckle filling your ears. Her fingers eased themselves into you, quickly finding your spot. Whimpers and groans left your lips as you buried your face in Natasha’s neck out of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your ears as you rocked yourself on her hand, her palm rubbing your clit deliciously. “Look at you, Bunny. Mommy was right when she called you a slut,” Natasha picked up her pace, lightly placing a kiss on the shell of your ear. Whining loudly as you picked your pace, chasing your high. Natasha was on cloud nine hearing a sharp Mama fall from your sweet lips as you fell apart in her arms, your body trembling in the aftershocks.

Natasha continued trying to bring you to the brink again, wanting to hear all she could pull from you. You were so precious as she watched your face twist in pleasure, a proud smile on her face every time you cried out her name. Slumping over her shoulder, breath heavy after Natasha pulled two more orgasms out of you. Popping her fingers in her mouth she moaned at your sweet taste, holding you still as you squirmed in embarrassment.

Packing up the car Natasha laid you down in your seat, covering you up with your blanket. Peppering kisses all over your face as she buckled up your seatbelt. Both of you blissfully unaware of the flashing lights of a camera from the tree-line on the far side of the park.

———

Abandoning the current Bluey episode, nearly tripping over your playpen when you heard Wanda announce that she was home. Running into her so hard that she stumbled back a little, your toy squeaking as you hugged her tighter, babbling that you missed her. Her warm arms embraced you tightly, kissing you anywhere she can reach, “Mommy missed you so much. Were you good for Mama?” Wanda pulled away when it got silent, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

”We had a bit of a rough start,” Natasha stepped out from the kitchen walking over, “but we sorted out our problems.” Rubbing her hand on your lower back. Wanda pulled Natasha in, all three of you hugging. It would’ve lasted longer but Natasha had to go make dinner. Your attention immediately back on Bluey the second Wanda brought you back in the living room.

Walking into the kitchen Wanda wrapped her arms around Natasha’s midsection as Natasha stirred the soup. “She’s our precious little Bunny,” Natasha affirmed, placing a kiss on Wanda cheek as they watched you contently chew on your toy focusing Bluey.

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #dark wanda maximoff #dark natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha x reader #natasha x you #rezwrites

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chvnnie · 1 year

Note

Stop bc the sub channie one had me on my knees 😩😩😩 If you could continue that one that would be great! 😂

usually I just leave thots as they are — but tbh I’ve been staring at my work computer since i posted, lost in this thought sooooo

SMUT - MINORS DNI

You’re too distracted to notice the steady creak of your bed. Felix’s tongue works vigorously, careful yet quick, he makes sure every inch of inch of your cunt is tended to. It makes it hard for you to focus, eyes fluttering as your hips grind. Moaning for him, soft pleas for more. Perfect, just for you—

—and Chan, who is damn near out of the bindings. They’re loosening slowly. He’s so close to getting enough wiggle room; tongue poking out, his focus is up. A little to the left. More to the right. Twist, twist, twist.

Right there, right on the precipice of freedom.

“Chan.” You snap, and he quickly looks at you. His heart is hammering against his rib cage. Fuck, how much did you see? Of course you catch on right as he was about to try and pull his hand out- “Eyes on me, baby. I don’t want to have to beat you in front of Felix.”

All your statement does is make him more ambitious. Hiding his scowl to the best of his ability, he nods. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Do you even hear him? Once you’ve scolded him, you’re back to losing yourself. Letting one hand curl into Felix’s golden locks while the other teases your nipple over your shirt. A captor of indulgence once again.

He needs to be quick. The more time spent trying to be careful, not wanting to attract attention, just puts him more at risk. So, Chan tugs harder. The frame hits the wall. Another rough pull. He feels it give more.

By the third time, you’re looking right at him again. And his left hand is free.

The grip on Felix’s hair helps you pull his out of your center, the younger man grunting angrily as heaven was ripped from him. “Stop.” You say firmly, catching Chan just as he sits up on his knees. “Sit.”

It’s like your speaking to a pet. Like you’re his owner. Laughable, really — and he does just that. “Absolutely not. Do you really expect me to watch this?”

“I expect you to follow my rules.” With your foot on Felix’s shoulder, you move him out of the way so you can stand. Grab the forgotten cane. “I’ll give you another chance. Sit.”

Channie’s a good boy.

When he wants to be.

“Try me, baby.” He says smugly, delighted in the way your dominance is crumbling. And it was this easy? Why hasn’t he tried this sooner? “I’ve never used a cane before. Should I try it on you, or Lix first?”

The threat should have scared the blonde man; ever the sweetheart, the people pleaser. To be given such a cruel punishment should make him like clay in Chan’s hands.

However, he seems unaffected. An almost bored expression on his face. The opposite of how his friend expected — and wanted — him to react.

“I don’t think you will.”

It takes him by surprise, confidence faltering slightly. Never has his friend challenged him, in any aspect, but especially not like this. Before you, was Felix. Always glad to help his friend work of his frustration, to have something he was sure to have control over.

Where did that bright eyed boy go?

“She told you to sit.” Felix says simply. “Don’t be dumb, hyung.”

His tone is so cool. So matter-of-fact. Emotionless.

That’s what makes Chan pause and consider his action. Felix’s coldness, and how much he enjoys it.

Chan isn’t allowed the silk ropes. Instead you use a flimsy pair of handcuffs found in the bottom of your toy box, tightening them until he complains of pain. Laying on his stomach, his knees are placed perfectly in line with his hips, which are raised. Neither you or Felix bothered to secure his ankles — one kick and they could easily overpower the stronger man.

Was his fleeting taste of control worth it?

Your back is against the headboard, legs open. Damp core just inches from Chan’s face. If he wiggles, could he reach it? Maybe if he positions his head at the right angle, his tongue might graze it.

So close. And just out of reach.

The lube is cold. Hissing, the older man clinches, fingers flexing behind his back.

“Oh, is that cold?” Felix is condescending, using the pads of two fingers to massage the lube against his hole. “I’m sorry.”

Tears start to sparkle in his eyes, frustration and pure, feral desire ripping him to shreds from the inside out. He doesn’t want Felix to touch him — all he wants is his cock. He wants to bend you over and rail you until all you can remember is his name — he wants you to beat him until he can’t walk.

The contradiction makes him dizzy, whines falling from his plush lips as he rests on his cheek. Defeated.

There’s a soft coo from you, then warm fingers are raking his curls. Nails scratching his scalp lightly, just like he likes it. How he always asks you to touch him when he needs to relax; when the control is too overwhelming.

A token. A reminder of your care for him. Even in moments like this.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Channie?” As you speak, Felix is lining his cock with his entrance, teasing it with the tip. “To be touched?”

He rolls his head, looking up at you. It’s impossible not to cry at this point. “I-I wanted to touch you.”

Your fingers crawl from his locks, gently wiping his tears away. “Oh, baby.”

Then, he notices it. The bullet vibrator in your other hand, thumb hovering over the on button. As if timed, you click it, right as Felix roughly pushes inside Chan.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #chvnnie thots

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subskz · 2 years

Text

four - b.c

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub chan, dom reader, chastity cage, bondage, handjob, degradation, name-calling, lots of begging, orgasm denial, edging, fingering (m receiving), dacryphilia, finger sucking, some aftercare, reader’s sex is unspecified

word count: 4.2k

“How many days has it been, Channie?”

The sound of Chan’s breathing, heavy and rapid, filled the room. He stared up at you from where he lay on the bed, his typically gentle eyes now wide and full of longing.

“Four,” he replied.

You brought a hand down to brush over his thigh, and his breath instantly hitched. “Four?” you echoed. “That’s not so long, is it?”

Chan let out a soft whine in response, as if to say that he knew you were right, but didn’t want to accept it. Your fingers slid up and down the fabric of his sweatpants, touching him just enough to make goosebumps form on the skin underneath.

“No,” he admitted. “But I need it so bad...I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in feigned disappointment. “You’re at your limit already. That’s a bit sad, don’t you think?”

Your scolding was met with another whine, but after a moment of reluctance, Chan nodded nonetheless.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, his eyes casting down in shame. You moved your hand up from his thigh to ghost over his crotch, and you had to suppress a smirk when he jumped. “I’m sorry for being so needy and causing you trouble.”

“Mm. That’s alright, Channie,” you hummed. “I’m used to it by now.”

Following your words, you reached over to open the drawer of your nightstand, pulling out a shiny pair of handcuffs. Chan’s eyes practically gleamed at the sight of them, and he instinctively straightened up, his arms moving in position behind his back before you could even command it.

You smiled, waving the cuffs from side to side and watching his eyes follow them like an alert puppy.

“I’m used to you being so helpless,” you continued, slinking behind the boy to take his trembling hands into your grip. “So desperate.” You locked the cuffs around his wrists, pulling slightly to make sure they were secured. “So pathetic.”

Chan whimpered, the pitiful noise only serving as proof for your point. You gave the handcuffs one last experimental tug before pulling back to admire him. With his arms now restrained, he was unable to shyly cross them over his body like he so often did. You drank in the sight of his bare upper body. His dusty brown nipples stood out against the pale skin of his chest, which rose and fell rhythmically with each nervous breath.

“Since you need it so bad, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what it is?” you urged, voice dripping with mockery.

Chan squirmed in his spot, rubbing his thighs together without saying a word. You frowned at his silence and placed a hand on each leg to force them apart.

“You want these bound, too?” you threatened. Chan swallowed hard before shaking his head, his pupils as wide as moons.

“That’s what I thought.” You kept your hands in place, digging your nails ever so slightly into his thighs. “Now tell me, what does Channie need?”

He bit his lower lip before answering, sucking the plush skin into his mouth. You toyed with the fabric of his sweatpants as he struggled to find his words. With someone as easily flustered as Chan, getting him to say something so embarrassing out loud was a challenge.

“Want you to touch me, p-please. Feels like it’s been forever,” he stuttered, pushing his hips up as much as your hold would allow. “Please, use me however you want. Just t-touch me.”

“You’ve gotten bolder, baby boy,” you commented. “Normally I’d have to drag that out of you.”

Chan tensed up as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his pants. “Or maybe,” you drawled, tugging the clothing off. “You’ve become too much of a slut to care anymore?”

The way the man groaned at your words confirmed your suspicions, only growing louder as you began palming at his boxers. Chan’s face scrunched up in frustration, feeling no pleasure from your hand thanks to the metal confines covering his length. “Please,” he whispered. “Can’t take it anymore.”

“You’re awfully demanding today, Channie,” you growled, letting go of his bulge to instead grab a rough hold on his face.

Chan mewled out an apology, shrinking back into himself. His instant surrender shifted your demeanor, and you gave his face a single, harsh squeeze before letting go.

“You’re lucky you sound so pretty when you beg.”

You slid your hand down from his face, trailing your fingers along his neck, past his chest, and over the toned ridges of his abs. Finally, you reached his boxers once more and, without warning, pulled the garment down in one swoop.

“Look at that,” you murmured, marveling at his caged length. “All locked up and waiting for me. Have you been a good boy?”

Chan nodded, almost frantically, as you traced your index finger around the chastity cage. “Y-yeah. Haven’t tried to take it off or...touch myself at all.”

You continued to side your finger along the metal, using your free hand to reach into your pocket and retrieve the key. His hazy eyes grew fully alert, locking on the object that stood between him and what he wanted so badly.

“Hm...but still, you’ve lost all control after just a few days,” you pointed out, dangling the key in front of his face to taunt him. “You really think you deserve a reward for that?”

A small whimper left the boy, and he pushed his puffy lips into a pout. The adorable sight nearly made you falter. For all of Chan’s bashfulness, he still knew exactly when and how to appeal to you if needed. Despite that, you maintained your resolve. Four days was pitiful, he knew that as well as you did. You lifted an eyebrow at him sternly, telling him without a word that you wouldn’t be letting up.

“I don’t deserve it,” he mumbled softly. “But...if you let me, I’ll be really good. I promise, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Baby boy,” you cooed. “I know I can.”

Your dark tone sent shivers up his spine, and you allowed yourself to giggle when you saw the tips of his ears turn bright red, whether from shame or arousal, you weren’t quite sure. The fact that Chan was able to voice his desires so straightforwardly meant that he was even more far gone than you’d realized. He was typically so shy—so hesitant to ask for anything—because his biggest focus was on what you wanted. Seeing him so needy made you determined to make the most of it.

Before he could say anything else, you reached down and unlocked his cage in one smooth motion. He squeaked as you removed the ring from around his base and carefully slid it off.

“Thank you,” he let out a sigh of pure relief, spreading his legs for you instantly.

Without warning, you took his cock into your grip and began to stroke at a fast pace, causing him to release a sharp cry of pleasure. Your hand moved quickly and roughly, not giving him any time to adjust to the new sensation.

His moans immediately started spilling out of him as you worked his length, smearing his precum around with each pump. “Is this what you wanted so bad?”

“Ah...yes,” he bit his lip in an attempt to hold back a particularly loud moan when you squeezed his base. “Thank you s-so much.” He leaned back, resting against the headboard and giving you a clear view of his chest and throat. You rolled your palm around his tip, admiring the way the veins in his neck protruded as he gasped out.

Chan’s length had grown fully hard in the short time you’d been stroking him, and his hips began to jerk up involuntarily into your fist. He let out a long, drawn-out whine when you swirled your thumb around his slit, and you clicked your tongue once again.

“Listen to yourself,” you said scornfully. “So worked up after just a few days. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

He let out a choked sob, arching his back off the headboard as you sped up the movement of your hand. He pushed his hips up towards you, silently begging for more.

“I asked you a question,” you pressed, giving his cock another squeeze.

His eyes blinked open, looking cloudy and lost, and he tried to steady his breathing before responding.

“Mmph...yes. C-can’t stand it when I’m not touched by you. Sorry. I’m so pathetic, ‘m sorry.”

You used your free hand to grab his chin and tilt it towards you. “You’re just a slut, Chan,” you sneered, dropping the affectionate nickname. “I lock you up to remind you of who you belong to, but I bet you’d get like this for anyone, hm?”

“N-no!” Chan cried out, almost distressed. “Just for you, only you.”

His immediate protest satisfied you more than you’d like to admit, and you gave him a deceptively sweet smile. “Yeah?” You swiped brushed over his slit again, relishing in the broken groan that followed. “Then let’s see if you can be as good for me as you promised.”

Chan began twitching in your grasp, his thighs quivering as his orgasm drew close. You toyed with the head of his length a few more times before going back to stroking. He bucked up wildly and he threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut.

“Close!” he gasped.

As soon as the words left his mouth, you removed your hand, and Chan let out a strained, pitiful noise.

His cock continued to jerk, red and aching against his stomach. He panted heavily as his high escaped him, but he didn’t dare complain. Instead, he gave you a helpless look, silently pleading for some kind of explanation.

“Four days…” you mused. “Since you couldn’t last any longer than that, let’s see if you can handle being edged four times.”

Chan’s eyes widened at that, panic flooding his features. “F-four?” he repeated, voice cracking. “I...I don’t—”

“What’s the matter?” you interjected, faking a pout. “You’ve already got one down. Don’t you think you can do it for me?”

He turned his head away without a word, and you sighed wistfully. “Hm...Channie just begged me to set his needy cock set free, and now he can’t even take his punishment like a good boy.”

Chan whined miserably, the disapproval in your tone upsetting him more than any punishment could. “N-no, I can take it,” he stammered. “I’m a good boy, I promise. I can do it.”

There was a shaky determination in his voice, and you knew that his people-pleasing nature had kicked in.

“That’s more like it,” you purred.

You took a hold of his length once more, gathering the precum that had dribbled out of his tip as you began to stroke. He was still sensitive from earlier, and his whines erupted into the room in an instant. You quickly found a steady pace, moving your hand just as rapidly as you had been before.

“Ah! So good, f-feels so good,” Chan moaned, his eyebrows furrowing as he concentrated on the pleasure. No matter how much he tried to contain them, his hips continued to push upward, and you pressed your free hand down on his lower stomach to keep him in place.

The added pressure caused Chan to gasp out your name, and his arms moved helplessly behind his back, fingers searching for something to grab on to. You took in the view of him—plump lips parted, hair tousled, face flushed. He looked so ruined after being denied just one orgasm, and you felt the devilish desire to see what he’d look like once you were finished with him.

It wasn’t long before his length was twitching again, and soon after his strained cries met your ears. “Ngh...c-cumming soon!” he warned. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“You know I can’t do that, Channie,” you reminded him.

You let go of his cock once more, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the loss. Chan squirmed as his climax slipped away, rubbing his legs together just as he had earlier in an attempt to gain some friction.

A dark look crossed your face, and you surged forward, shoving Chan’s thighs apart roughly and causing him to yelp in surprise.

“You’re making this difficult, Chan,” you growled, digging your nails into his skin.

Chan’s eyes trembled, full of guilt as you stared him down. He swallowed before ducking his head, unable to hold your glare. “I’m s-sorry.” he whimpered. “I didn’t m-mean to—”

“I thought you said you were gonna be good,” you interrupted, pressing down even harder, nearly enough to make the skin break. “Or was that just a lie so you could get what you wanted?”

He shook his head frantically, letting out a mewl of protest. “N-no I wasn’t lying, I swear! ‘M sorry, I won’t do it again.” His voice rose in pitch as you pulled away and stood up from the bed. “Where are you going? P-please, don’t leave,” he begged, his arms thrashing in the handcuffs.

Chan’s whines continued as you headed towards your closet, only dying down when he saw you return with two lengths of rope in hand. The uncertainty in his eyes turned into understanding, and he quickly grew silent.

“Since you’re too much of a whore to behave on your own, let’s give this a try.” You returned to your spot on the bed. A small, miserable noise left Chan, but he adjusted his position for you nonetheless.

You snaked the rope expertly around his ankles, securing the knots before carefully binding his calves to his thighs. As the finishing touch, you used the loose ends to tie his legs to the bedposts, keeping them spread so he could no longer rub them together.

After ensuring the restraints weren’t too tight, you pulled back, satisfied with your work. You tilted Chan’s face up by his chin, locking your gaze with his doe eyes. “What’s your color?” you asked, softening for a moment.

“Green,” he breathed back.

His certainty reassured you, and you gave his cheek a pat before taking his cock back into your grip. Chan squeaked as you did, suddenly being reminded of his current situation.

Even more precum had gathered at his tip, and you used your thumb to smear it around his head in a way that made all his senses run wild. He bit down hard on his plush lower lip, but it did little to stop the groan that rumbled in his throat.

You began to pump him once more, the sticky precum creating a lewd squelching noise as you did so. Chan’s short pants quickly transformed into moans, the effect of four days in his chastity cage combined with two denied orgasms making him more sensitive than ever.

Hungry for more of his reactions, you teased his slit for good measure, earning a high-pitched sob that didn’t disappoint.

“A-ah, fuck!”

“So noisy,” you frowned, repeating the action. “You're really shameless today.”

He simply whined in response, squeezing his eyes shut to quell some of his embarrassment. You sped up the movement of your hand, and Chan arched his back towards you as much as his restraints would allow. His length was all but throbbing in your grip, and his thighs quivered uncontrollably in their confines.

You licked your lips as you watched his adam’s apple bob with each cry he released. Chan began calling your name over and over as his high quickly approached again. “You gonna cum, baby boy?” you cooed.

“Y-yeah,” Chan gasped. “Just a little….more!”

You released his length for the third time, and though Chan had been expecting it, that didn’t stop him from mewling pathetically in protest. His hips thrusted forward, aching for some kind of relief.

Being denied a third time had left Chan’s mind hazy, and he barely registered the feeling of your weight shifting off the bed. “Wh-what are you doing?” He murmured, eyes fluttering open. You didn’t respond, instead resting one hand on his back and the other on his shoulders to nudge him down so that he was laying flat on the mattress.

Chan looked up at you with an adorably confused expression, and you gave his hair a ruffle.

“Relax, Channie,” you soothed. “I’m gonna play with you in a different way, now.”

Your words sent a wave of arousal through his senses, and he nodded obediently. You settled yourself back on the bed, leaning over Chan to trace a finger around his nipples. His breath hitched, heart racing with the realization that he was completely vulnerable under your touch.

“How many times have I kept you from cumming?” you asked, tapping your index finger on his chest.

There was a pause as Chan contemplated, his thoughts so scrambled that he’d forgotten to keep track. “Three,” he answered, somewhat hesitant.

You smiled and trailed your finger up to his neck. He tilted his head back like a reflex, exposing his throat to your feather-light touch.

“Only one more to go. You think you can do it?”

He nodded again, not trusting his voice to remain steady. At that, you brought your fingers to his mouth, prodding at his plump lips. Chan parted them without question, and you stuck two fingers inside his mouth.

The wet heat of his tongue made your skin tingle as he sucked intently. “You look prettiest with your mouth full,” you hummed, pushing in and out of his mouth gently. “You want these inside you?”

Chan moaned sinfully in response, swirling his tongue around the digits. You kept your fingers in for a few moments more to allow them to become thoroughly coated in his saliva. He whined softly when you pulled them out of his mouth, his shiny lips remaining parted.

You readjusted your position and brought your now slick fingers to his entrance, squeezing a bit of lube around the area and making him hiss from the sudden coldness. “Ready?”

“Please, please, please,” Chan repeated, too far-gone to ask properly. Deciding that he’d suffered enough, you complied. Slowly, you slid your fingers inside of him, relishing in the long, high-pitched moan released.

Once you were fully inside, you gave Chan some time to adjust. His pulse was racing, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. The sound of his shallow breaths filled the room as you waited, running your free hand along the rope lacing Chan’s thighs.

He began to squirm slightly, pushing his lower half against your hand as best he could, and you smirked. “Is Channie getting restless?”

Before he could respond, you pulled your fingers out bit by bit. You marveled at the way he instantly clenched at the loss before sliding them back in all in one go, making him gasp sharply.

Your fingers slid in and out with ease as you set a steady pace, and Chan’s head fell back against the pillow, his mouth hanging open as moan after moan spilled out of him. His voice was needier than ever, and he barely got any breaths in between the sounds.

You spread your fingers apart in a scissor-like motion, pushing against his walls to stretch them just a bit further. Chan arched his back in pleasure, an especially loud cry escaping him. “You like being filled up, baby boy?” you asked sweetly. “You’re making such pretty noises for me, it sure seems like it.”

“Y-yes!” Chan managed to get out, his cock spasming against his stomach. “Feels so good, so good. Th-thank you.”

His head began to thrash from side to side, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. You curled your fingers inside him, brushing against his sweet spot. Chan’s whole body jerked up, and he released a moan so filthy it sent sparks of electricity straight to your core.

“There! R-right there, please!” he babbled. You repeated the movement, paying close attention to his reactions just in case he was too fucked out to let you know when he was cumming.

Chan’s arms struggled in his restraints, trying to find anything he could latch on to and ground himself. You slid your fingers along his prostate one last time before pulling them out without any warning.

At that, Chan reached his breaking point. The moment as your fingers left him, he released a choked sob and hot tears spilled out of his eyes.

“N-no...why…why?” he mewled, helpless and disoriented.

You shushed him gently, running a hand up and down his stomach to soothe his shaking body. The boy hiccuped, tears pouring down his cheeks and dripping onto the pillowcase. He looked absolutely ruined, and you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of satisfaction as you took in the sight of him.

His cheeks were practically burning red, almost the same shade as his lips—which had grown swollen from how much he’d bitten down on them. Several wet curls stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his half-lidded eyes were clouded and watery.

“That’s four,” you said proudly. “You did it, Channie.”

He was too exhausted to do anything but give a weak half-smile, sniffling as he did so. You smiled back, your features softening, and you stopped petting his stomach to bring your fingers back to his entrance. “You proved that you’re a good boy for me, today,” you praised, all signs of scorn gone. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Please,” he slurred, a bit of energy returning to his voice. “Wanna c-cum, please.”

You used your free hand to cup his wet cheek, wiping away stray droplets with your thumb. He leaned in to your touch to signal he was ready, and you pushed two fingers inside of him once more. You inched forward tentatively as Chan tightened around you, sliding deeper until your fingers were about halfway inside of him, right where his sweet spot was.

“You take me so well, baby boy,” you murmured, hooking your fingers just as you had before. Chan shuddered at the feeling, letting out a low whine. You began curling and uncurling your fingers in a rhythmic motion, stimulating the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

Chan’s moans spilled out of his parted lips with no restraint. too far-gone to even think about his volume. “Please, don’t stop,” he begged. “I’ll do anything.”

“No more stopping,” you assured him. He clenched around your fingers as you milked him delicately, and when his thighs began to jerk beneath the ropes again, you knew that he was close.

Chan called out your name, alerting you that his climax was rapidly approaching. His length twitched wildly against his stomach as you continued your movements, and with one last curl of your fingers, he came undone.

The sob that left Chan was unlike any you’d heard before. His body jolted as pleasure overtook it, his seed bursting out of him after being denied for so long. The white spurts of cum splattered all over the pale skin of his stomach, and he moaned your name like a mantra, squirming and thrashing as his orgasm racked his body.

He came for several seconds, every last bit of pressure that had built up inside of him finally being released. You watched in awe as rope after rope of his seed shot out of him until he had fully emptied all over himself..

Chan trembled as he came down from his high, chest heaving with every gasp for air. Carefully, you removed your fingers, and stood up, resting your hand briefly on his head. This time, there was no panicked question of where you were going. He watched with hazy eyes as you headed to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth.

When you returned, his breathing had more or less gone back to normal, and you placed a hand behind his back to delicately help him off the mattress. He sat up slowly with your support, and you made quick work of unlocking his handcuffs. Chan sighed in relief as you did so, and you moved down to his legs to free them as well.

You fumbled slightly with the rope, trying to untie him as swiftly as possible without being reckless. Eventually, you undid each of the intricate knots. The pressure from the restraints had left a pattern of indents on his skin, and you admired it briefly before reaching for the washcloth.

You lowered your hand to rest him back against the bed, then began to clean him up. “How are you feeling, angel?” you murmured, rubbing the seed off his stomach gently. “Was it too much?”

“Not too much,” he breathed. “Felt really good…the best.”

He gave you a sleepy smile, and your heart fluttered as you caught a glimpse of his dimples. You slid your hand down to his thighs to let the warm feeling of the washcloth soothe the areas where the rope had been.

Chan hummed softly before asking a question of his own. “Was I...good for you?” he asked quietly, shyness creeping back into his voice.

“The best.” You leaned down to place a kiss to his nose. “Maybe next time we can aim for five.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!chan #dom!reader #chan smut #sub!bang chan

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mango-bango-bby · 2 years

Note

May I request the prompt 🍩 with Sugawara, with a darling that tried to run away, while there was a thunderstorm outside and she got sick

♡ Thunderstorm ♡

(A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve done a prompt and a haikyuu fic so I’m very excited to be back to it!! I think this was really interesting, I honestly like writing for Suga a lot 💖💞)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, angst lots of angst, escape attempts, bathing together, being sick, handcuffs, mentions of punishments

Summary: You try to escape but get sick after doing so (Yan!Sugawara x GN!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You should’ve known that Koshi would’ve caught you. You tried to escape, although it was only a while before you were tackled to the ground by Koshi.

There was practically fire in his eyes when he brought you down. He would rather die than not be able to have you in his arms. So even the thought that you could possibly try to run away made him so upset.

You had escaped during the missed of a thunderstorm, the cold and rain getting you sick. As much as Koshi wanted to punish you for your escape attempt, he decided to wait until you felt better. He wasn’t a monster. At least he didn’t think he was.

Koshi stops and held onto your shoulder as a warning to not keep moving around in the bath. Because you had gotten sick, he didn’t let you do anything on your own, instead doing everything for you and only wanting to take care of you.

“Please, stop fussing. I’m just trying to give you a bath” Koshi says, bringing the water to your hair to wash out the shampoo he had put in it.

You stop moving a bit, your hands still handcuffed even as you were in the bath. He’s absolutely refused to let you out of the handcuffs ever since taking you back home.

You try to cover yourself up as much as you can, while being completely nude in the bath. “I’m fine” you mumble, wanting to just be able to bathe by yourself. He seems to hear you but he also seems to ignore you. He doesn’t think you can take care of yourself.

You tried to escape from him, even though he loves you and takes care of you. Clearly you don’t know how to take care of yourself! You need him to care for you, because you don’t know what’s good for you.

“No, you’re not. You’re sick because you made a stupid decision. You are lucky I haven’t punished you” Koshi says watching you shrink into yourself a bit at is words.

“I know, I’m sorry” you mumble, telling him what he wanted to hear. You always tend to tell him what he wants to hear, even if you don’t mean it. You just want your old life back, not to be stuck in this gilded cage. You apologize once again, not noticing the few tears that fall down your face and into the tub.

“Aww, sweetheart, I know” Koshi says softly, his entire attitude seemingly shifting. “Don’t cry, honey” he says, lifting your chin so he can give you a kiss. You don’t fight back, simply letting him. You couldn’t run away. Koshi would rather die than not have you with him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere haikyuu #yandere sugawara #yandere!suga #yandere suga #yandere sugawara x reader #yandere koshi #yandere koshi x reader #yandere angst

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t3acupz · 11 days

Text

🩻🤍💉 Brownham Medwhump May 💉🤍🩻

3. “Squeeze my hand”

Will was becoming desperate to remember what Hannibal had done to him when he was experiencing his encephalitis induced loss of time. He knew that somewhere in the wellspring of his mind were all the buried memories that would exonerate him but he just had to dig deeper. Chilton was equally just as frustrated from getting nowhere with Graham. The curt response, and uncouth eye rolls were starting to wear on him. Sensing that the FBI profiler was reaching his limit, the former surgeon suggested a rather unorthodox approach to jog Will’s memory.

“Electroconvulsive therapy,” Chilton announced, puffing up his chest to add emphasis to his brilliant idea.

Will looked up from behind the bars of the cramped iron cage that made him feel like one of his dogs when they were misbehaving. He suppressed a growl that was trying to go up his throat. Seeing Chilton looking so smug while proposing something that would cause Will to experience even more pain than he was already in was enough to make him want to wring his neck.

“Do you really believe that would work?” The question escaped Will’s mouth before he could really consider the consequences of opening Chilton’s version of a Pandora’s box.

The green eyes of the orderly gleamed as he stopped playing with his keychain, and straightened up from leaning against the wall. Matthew was assigned to be one of Will’s personal orderlies. The high-profile serial killer, The Chesapeake Ripper, was right in front of him yet — he wasn’t.

Matthew had read the file on Will Graham every night before switching shifts with the next group of BSCHI orderlies. It was the only time he could read it in peace without someone looking over his shoulder. Graham didn’t fit the description of the cold, heartless cannibal that sadistically murdered his victims. There was a darkness in Will, Matthew saw that clearly, but he wasn’t a monster.

“Brown!” Chilton hollered at the young man across the room. “Prep the ECT equipment. We don’t want to waste the precious daylight hours, Mr. Graham is a very impatient man.”

Will glanced at Matthew, and for the first time since becoming an inmate, made eye contact with him. The blue-gray eyes saw right through Matthew, sending shivers down the younger man’s spine. Matthew nodded at Chilton, and left the room.

After half an hour, Brown returned. “Finally, what took you so long, go cuff Will and bring him, I will meet you in the room.” And with that, Chilton limped away, creating an echo with his cane that seemed to reverberate through the entire building.

“Will it hurt?” Will asked Matthew as he stood with his back to the orderly, waiting for his hands to be bound.

“I’ll give you a muscle relaxer but I won’t lie to you, it hurts like a bitch.”

Will let out a sarcastic laugh, and walked out of the cage. Matthew placed a hand on Will’s arm, and guided him through the winding corridors to the only source of light at the very end of a dark hallway. Once inside, Will saw Chilton standing there, and impatiently tapping the vintage-looking machine.

Matthew removed the handcuffs, and helped Will onto the solid looking bed. The faded leather was worn down at the edges, and as Will placed his head down he realized that it smelled just as bad as it looked.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s true that we haven’t used the Somatics machine in years.” Chilton spoke, careful not to scare Will into changing his mind. “But you’re a special case, and you shall receive the best treatment this fine establishment can provide.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, and looked down at Will. “I’ll now give you two injections, one is a muscle relaxer, and the other will help with anxiety.”

”Just the muscle relaxer,” Will replied, wincing as the first needle pierced the skin, and the muscle relaxer was injected into his cephalon vein. “I need to be able to feel any emotion that could be associated with a memory.”

“Wise choice,” Chilton said while starting the ECT machine. “Let’s continue.” He nodded at Matthew to begin placing the electrodes to Will’s temples.

After Will was strapped down, and all the necessary equipment was attached to his body, he suddenly found himself hyperventilating.

“Mr. Graham, we are moments away from starting your treatment, please get a hold of yourself.” Chilton sighed, finger edging towards the red button.

Matthew leaned close to Will’s face, smelling the faint hint of fevered sweetness coming from the anxious man. “Squeeze my hand.” He whispered softly, placing his hand near Will’s. Will grabbed it, and Matthew felt the jittering, clammy hand grip much harder than he had expected. Matthew bit his lip to ease his own pain, and let Will continue to hold his fingers in a vice grip.

“I will do the countdown,” Licking his lips, Chilton began, “3… 2… 1–”

120 volts passed through Will’s brain, lighting up his neurons, and causing a generalized seizure. Matthew felt Will’s hand loosen as he lost control of his senses. His eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Chilton looked pleased with himself.

Will was at his home, sitting down even though he doesn’t remember how he got in that position. Hannibal was rubbing his face with a latex glove. “Wh—”

“Now, now.” Hannibal shushed Will as he opened his mouth wider, and guided a clear plastic tube down his throat.

Will jerked from the pain but couldn’t fight back. He could see Hannibal smirking down at him, running his hand through the brown curls that stuck to Will’s sweat-soaked face. “Just a little more, that’s it.” Hannibal tutted at him.

Five seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Chilton turned off the machine. Will tried to sit up but was held down by the straps that ran down the length of the bed.

“That bastard!” Will hissed as Matthew began removing the electrodes from his temples.

“Did you remember something, Will?” Chilton asked eagerly.

Will shook his head, refusing to look at Chilton’s self-satisfied expression.

“That’s alright, we will keep doing this every other day until you do.” And with that, Chilton exited the room, leaving Matthew to clean up the mess.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Matthew finally broke the silence in the room. “He has listening devices all over the place so don’t start talking to yourself out loud.”

Will gave the orderly a curious look then smiled. “How do you know he has listening devices?”

“Because he asked me to rig it for him,” Matthew smiled back.

“Thank you.” Will replied, letting Matthew place the handcuffs on him again.

“If you need anything, just say the word.” Matthew’s hand was still numb from how forcefully Will squeezed it earlier. But he didn’t mind nor did he want the feeling to go away because it meant Will needed him, and Matthew was happy to be used by Will in any way the older man wanted.

#this is becoming a real passion project for me #i hope i make it to all 31 days :D #electroshock therapy ✅#more cute brownham moments ✅#brownham #medwhump may #matthew brown #fic

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leannanscribblesstuff · 2 years

Note

I want to read a prompt where Michonne doms Rick. Basically she ties him down then rides and fucks his face into oblivion and Rick goes absolutely crazy over it 💅

You're bad.

Deliverance

Pairing: Rick + Michonne /Sub!Rick and Dom!Michonne

Summary: A divorced Rick has a desire to surrender and Michonne is his savior.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: DNI if underage. BDSM, a bit of angst, unsafe sex, dark. adult things, oral, edging, hand job, candle play, aftercare. Dom!Michonne and Sub!Rick

AN: 3600+ words. This is freaky and tbh I don’t know what came over me.

______________________________________________

“Trust me…”

“I do.”

A pause. “You know your safe word?”

Rick nodded quickly. His heart struck against his chest when he heard the handcuffs lock over his head.

Rick was a planner, accustomed to assessing any unfamiliar situations because of his line of work. Anything could happen. Michonne could stab him, shoot him, torture him until his last breath.

Get out of your head, Rick. He told himself often. Such advice always failed, especially after the divorce. He didn’t know how to get out of his head and into his body and heart.

And that’s what landed him here, on this bed in a large bedroom, tied and splayed for the woman in front of him.

Rick was still in disbelief that he allowed this, that it tempted him. He heard of Michonne through a man in his divorce support group. After a night of drinks, Morgan admitted to his desire for submission, but it was never sexual. He expressed that to Rick, so he didn’t assume. It was strictly roleplay.

And Rick knew that when they met about four months ago and she gently introduced him to a world of bondage, punishment, and rewards. He spoke with her for months before he decided he wanted to commit the act tonight.

Michonne took her time to know him, and he was thankful. She approached him without judgment, without an assumption of what he should be. And somehow, their conversations for the last few weeks weren’t just about the possibility of domination and submission. She let him know who she was outside of this. They became friends.

Rick had to remind himself that this was just roleplay for his own sanity.

His thoughts stopped when he felt the bed lift as she stood and she walked over to the dresser, turning down the lights.

“Just breathe…” Michonne reassured, he’s sure she could feel his fear. Maybe she understood his apprehension from experience.

No, Rick didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t care to know what other men she tied in her bed. Because as much as he didn't care to admit it, throughout the weeks, maybe the fantasy became blurred and she was his as much as he was hers.

But he never told her that. He let out a breath as she eased back on the bed.

“You’re gonna be good for me today?” Michonne asked gently.

“Yes, Madam.”

She rewarded him with a kiss along his jaw. He was used to the act, always a kiss on the cheek but never the lips. Boundaries.

She leaned over and kissed his jawline. Her smell made his mouth water, and he flexed his fingers, longing to wrap his arms around her, pull her on top and straddle him.

But she was slow. It was the journey for Michonne. To get him into his body as fingertips trailed along his rib cage and over his chest. She bit into his neck and Rick groaned.

Michonne hummed her approval. Hands lead to the waistband of his boxers and he gritted his teeth, and took in a keen breath, ready for her to take off his last piece of clothing and either suck or fuck him.

But she stopped and stood back up.

"Not yet." She reproached, reading his mind.

Rick licked his bottom lip and watched her closely.

"Besides.." Michonne leaned over and turndown the lamp on her nightstand. "It's not about you tonight, is it Rick?"

He knew that. "No, Madam.”

He could only stare at her. The black sheer robe left little to the imagination, as her breast peeked through and touched his chest as she grabbed something by the lamp. He felt his cock tighten.

"That's right.” She assured lightly. “It's about me and my pleasure."

Michonne stood again and walked to her dresser. He stared at her through her mirror as she grabbed the candleholder and lit a match. Its light left an orange hue on her skin, and the scent of the match tickled his nose.

"You want to please me, don't you rick?" She asked, staring at him through her reflection.

"Yes." He replied quickly.

Michonne lit the white tall candle and walked back to the bed, holding the skirt of her thin robe as she held the candle carefully and crawled next to Rick.

She pursed her lips, and her eyes focused on Rick. The light of the candle flickered on her face and he licked his lips. He wanted to hold her face between his hands and tug at the bottom of her lip as he sipped from her mouth.

But there was no kissing. She laid down the rules weeks beforehand. Only the game of bondage, torture, and ordering him around, as he would jump between pain and pleasure at her command.

Rick stiffened when he saw a black cloth in her hand.

“Shhhh…” Her voice lowered, “You need to relax.”

She put the candle down on the nightstand and leaned over, tied the cloth, and left him dependent on her.

“If you say your safe word, I’ll stop.” She assured gently, “You understand?”

He didn’t realize he held a breath.

“Yes ma’am..”

“Good.”

He was expecting pain. But he felt the palms of her hand, warm as she pressed into his shoulders and the scent of chamomile and lavender filled his nose. Her hands were slick from whatever oil trailed along his skin.

He felt her straddle him, thighs pressed against his rib cage as she gently rubbed his chest, creating a pattern to his shoulders and arms, then back again.

“You’re so tense.” He heard the compassion in her voice.

“Yeah…” Rick replied, “Been awhile.” He admitted. Not that she didn’t know that, but he had to remind himself.

Stillness. He could only hear her hands against his arms, shoulder, and chest, leading along his ribs and stomach. His breaths deeper and his body became lazy against Michonne’s hands.

Time didn’t exist, and he was close to surrendering, being.

But she pulled him back into reality when he felt a hot, sharp liquid on his chest. Wax. The wax dripped along his chest and he flinched and grit his teeth at the burn. It wasn't bad. It was over just as quick as it began. He felt it harden on his skin.

It was more startling than painful. Just a sample of the loss of his control.

She gave a coo of comfort.

“Breathe, Rick.”

He shivered, and he could almost hear the smile on her face from his reaction.

“How’d it feel?” She asked, a bit of interest in her voice.

He took time to think.

“Good.” He admitted.

“You want more?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat, surprised by the request. “Madam.”

His stomach quivered when he felt a small amount of wax drip along his skin, hot and slick, and the twitch of his cock shocked him.

He was sure she felt it because she rolled against him.

“What are you thinking about?”

He thought about Michonne beneath him, buried in her, as he slammed home, nails clawing at his arms as he brought them both to the edge.

But her nails bit into his chin, bringing his focus back to the present.

“I asked you a question.” She said between a tightened jaw, her nails were sharp against his beard and he let out a breath.

“When I ask, you answer.” Michonne ordered, “Understood?”

He’s never seen this side of her, assumed this would come out, that dominating force he longed for, but he wasn’t used to a woman telling him what to do. Demanding and forceful.

He was traditional and used to the women in his small town who played coy. But Michonne. He hated to admit it. This was a newfound hot-blooded desire..

“Understood?”

He was taking too long to answer. “Yes.”

Silence, and he wondered if he satisfied her. But he knew better than could feel the tension in the room. He felt her lean over, get off the bed, and walked to the side of him.

He hissed when he felt it. A whip this time.

The whip was sharp along his chest and rib cage. Her hits were quick and strategic as his skin burned. It was worse than the wax and he sucked in a breath.

The punishment ended.

The pain had his ears pulsing and teeth grinding, body hummed. Suddenly he could see again and Michonne was on top of him.

Nails dragged along his sternum and pressed along his stomach.

"Tell me what you're thinking about?" She asked softly.

It took a minute to think. "Nothing Madam."

"Nothing?" She dragged her nails along his sides and he hissed.

Rick didn’t want to think. He could only feel and sink into the burn and the pleasure and warmth her hands bestowed on his skin.

"Just you." He whispered.

Michonne paused, and he looked at her. Rick could see her throat tightened and just a glint of surprise crossed her features before she gave a vacant stare.

"Very good." She replied.

Michonne moved to his side. Her leg dropped over his thigh and before he could process it, he felt her hand fall into his boxers and let out a sharp breath when her warm hand tightened along his cock.

"What do we have here?" She teased.

Michonne's hands moved and he couldn't help but snap his hips against her palm.

Rick sucked in a breath. She was too good at this. She tightened at just the right time, right at the base, and when her hand moved towards his tip, her fingertips danced along him, gathering his pre-cum and making his cock glisten.

The groan that came out of his mouth surprised him. It was animalistic, primal, and she answered with a nip at his cheek.

"Tell me what you want?"

He knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to come in her hand, but her movements were getting him there.

Michonne knew that because she stopped, and his heart stilled.

He was quivering and her hand was no longer at his cock, instead; she grasped his chin.

"I asked you a question." She gritted.

"Go on." Michonne teased, "Speak."

He panted.

"What. Do. You want?"

"I want you to fuck me." He was never much for talking in bed. But he'd do it for her and only her. His voice sounded unfamiliar. Softer.

"What else?"

"I want to please you, Madam."

He looked over, and she sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth. Eyes determined.

"You better." Michonne sat up and crawled over his chest. He let out a sigh, disappointed she didn’t clench around his hardness.

Michonne noticed his reaction. She was just as focused on him as he was on her.

“You take what I give you.” She growled.

He nodded and replied yes.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, and he could hear the humor in her voice.

His mouth watered, ready to devour.

"Yes, Madam"

Brown eyes flashed in mischief. The back of her thighs was warm against his shoulders and her knees pressed to both sides of him into the mattress.

"Don't disappoint me,” she warned.

And Rick could never do such a thing. As she sank down and into his mouth. He swiped and slid into her folds. Knowing right then that his favorite taste touched his tongue.

His favorite noise was the hum that came out of her lips as his tongue swirled and moved up to press against her clit. Michonne’s hips snapped forward at the sensation and he stayed there sucked. Answering every moan and cry she gave.

Bliss. Was right on top of him as his mouth moved against her, getting her wetter as she painted his mouth and chin.

Rick wanted her to disappear into it as he did and he saw the dam break as she cried out, squeezed her eyes shut, and hips rotated on his chin. Hot thighs pressed into his cheeks.

He responded with a moan at the constraint. His cock jumped at the thought that she could smother him into an abyss.

Michonne released him, and Rick caught his breath, disappointed she didn’t stay longer.

"Yeah?" Michonne asked as she looked down and met his eyes. God, his heart was beating fast, and he was so hard it was close to painful.

She gave him some room to breathe.

"Yes, please." He begged in a hoarse voice, pride and self-awareness gone. He focused on Michonne and the cruelty and mercy she could deliver.

And without a second to waste, she descended upon his mouth. Her hips rode the source of her pleasure without restraint.

And Rick answered by thrusting his tongue inside of her, imagining his cock there, going as deep as he could so he could hear her gasps and moans right underneath the meat of her thighs that pressed against his ears.

All the pain and pleasure merged when her fingers wrapped around his curls and she held him down, chasing her own release, and he moaned in approval, begging her to clench around his mouth. His fists flexed as he thought how good it would feel to grasp her ass and get her to ride him harder and faster.

Michonne stilled and let out a shuddering breath. Seconds later, he could feel her pulsing against his tongue, slick around him.

He didn't care about the burn in his wrists, the torturing pulse between his own legs, ready to release. He didn't care about the soreness in his chin and jaw. It was just a mark of what Michonne gave, and he took with gratitude.

She was off his face suddenly, and he caught his breath.

"Beg me," she demanded, voice soft and warm in the dim room, her knees now on both sides of him right by his pelvis. The head of his cock twitched when he felt her soft opening touching his tip.

"Fuck me, madam" He replied quickly, "Please…"

"Again…"

And he obeyed, could hear his own words as he pleaded without dignity. He didn’t need that right now.

Michonne answered his prayers. He sucked in a breath and fuck, he could cry at the way she contracted around him. Her own intake of breath had him close to being undone, as she didn't spare a moment to twist and rock against him. He could feel her clit rub against the hair below his navel.

He wanted to hold on to Michonne, but he could only sink into the mattress and move with the current as she rocked his frame. Could only fist the air and let out pants as she pulled and slammed on him. He answers her with growls and moans that fell out of his lips. Noises he’s never heard before in all his fifteen years of marriage.

He's never had it this rough before and he didn't want it any other way. It was delicious, and he didn't realize until now that he would want a hand wrapped around his throat to compliment the cunt that wrapped around his hardness. Michonne’s hand pressed against his Adam's apple as he held his own breath and felt his cock pulse.

She showed him his purpose and everything in his life led him to be with her.

Rick’s skin was on fire, feet stiffened, amazed that he felt every inch of his body as she continued to swallow him whole.

They locked eyes, and he didn't want to look at anything but the woman above him. Her locs surrounding her face, brown eyes lit and searching his…

She was a siren, and he was her victim, ready to jump into the ocean and submerge. She was a sorceress that bewitched him for eternity. She was Lilith, ready to take him in her wings and fly him into the pits of hell.

She delivered a violent fuck, his body surrendering to the slam and jerk of her hips against his and mixed into suddenly a gentle mating. As she released his throat. Michonne bowed down, mouth and breath against him.

He wondered if she could smell herself on his lips. But his thoughts disappeared as he cried out at the way she gently thrust against him.

Whether brutal and wild or gentle and merciful, he'd fall to her feet and worship because Michonne was the source of his existence.

Her lips teased his mouth, never meeting for a kiss, but ‌her own cries and mewls of pleasure danced along his mouth and chin.

He reached up, neck strained, as he begged with his body, ready to kiss her-

But Michonne was quicker and moved back, never letting up on his cock.

"Don't you dare." She rasped.

And she stopped moving. His hips bucked, and she sank down. Where her chin lay propped on his chest, doe-like eyes had him still as he let out a breath of frustration.

He needed to come and he should. Just a couple of more thrusts into her heat would do him over.

But he rebelled because he didn't want it to end, and he needed her to come with him.

Rick only pulsed inside of her, never waiting this long for a climax. He was always the one delivering.

"Please." He growled voice shook with frustration or pleasure. He wasn't sure.

"Please?" she mocked as she sat up and caught her breath.

"Please make me come."

A pause and a soft roll of her hips had a cry come out of his throat.

She stroked again.

"You want to?"

“Yes,” he said quickly, no longer waiting when she asked.

A reward. As she bowed down and her tongue swirled against his mouth, sinful and sweet, his teeth tugged at her lip, a show of dominance that she allowed for now. She would probably punish him later for the act.

But he didn't care.

She released his mouth, grabbed the top of his head and fisted his curls, turned his head to the side so she could whisper in his ear.

"You want to come?" She hissed.

He gritted a yes and closed his eyes.

"Where? You want me to get off and let you come in my hand?"

She stopped. This time she did pointed strokes on top of him.

Rick shook his head, remembering the rule.

She asked, "Where do you want to come? In my mouth?"

She knew where and his hips bucked back and he could shout in victory when he felt her cunt twitch against him.

The devil, she was whispering such sinful things that he didn't think a woman could ever say.

"Wanna come inside you," he begged, "Please."

He didn't care about begging for it. He wanted to scold her walls, mark her as she marked him, let her feel the creature she created.

He was so close.

"Come." With the demand falling from her mouth, he let out a long groan, stiffened, and felt her squeeze him for all his seed.

It was all too much. The graze of her teeth on the column of his throat. Lips wet against his cheek, and suddenly she turned his face towards her as she swallowed his cries. Thrusting and swirling her tongue against his, it was a nasty kiss as she sucked his tongue and such a gesture had him coming again inside of her. Rick can't remember ever feeling this much pleasure from a kiss, and electricity flashed behind his eyes, the base of his spine emitting licks of fire. He wasn't in control of his body or mind and, for once, he was glad for it.

Rick’s words flew from his mouth and into hers, mingled words of curses and thank you, and a three-word phrase fell from his mouth before he controlled it. And she collapsed. Her hair ticked his chest, her cheek pressed against his chest.

And he fell against the mattress, and let out a breath that seemed to come from his gut. Serenity and simply being. The thought of being hers engulfed him.

He didn't feel Michonne as she got off and walked away to the bathroom. Her back turned without so much as a word.

Moments passed as he heard the water from the sink run. He was alone. He wanted to curl into himself, close to regretting that his feelings were out. Dreading that feeling he's felt for months before he met her would come back.

Emptiness.

Tears tipped at the brim of his eyes. Trying to remember what this was supposed to be.

He could still taste her, and it made his heart squeeze.

Rick closed his eyes and took in a breath.

The key unlocked over his head and he looked up. The light on the nightstand flickered on and Michonne was next to him with a steaming towel. It felt good as she wiped his beard and neck. Gently cleaning his chest and the cool air tickled his skin in contrast with the cloth.

Rick moved his arm tenderly and wrapped his hand around his wrist.

It was as if Michonne knew what he needed. He didn't need words right now, just a gesture. Comfort through hands, he told himself.

Though he wondered if she would ignore what he told her amid their coupling.

Michonne grabbed the hand he caressed and covered it with the hot towel. She pulled his fingers gently and pressed her thumb into his palm and he felt shocks of it through his shoulder.

She grabbed the other hand and locked eyes with him as she massaged and relieved the pressure.

"Thank you…" he rasped.

She didn't respond, only grabbed pillows from the other side of his head, signaling him to sit up so she could prop up his body. She grabbed the glass of water next to the nightstand and brought it to his lips.

But she had already quenched his thirst. For now, at least, the water was useless, but he drank it anyway because she requested it.

Her eyes locked on him. Face unreadable, carefully blank, but her hands told him a different story as she continues to wipe his body.

“This is new to me too…” That was all she said as she cleaned his chest and stomach

Surrender. He felt free from all his worries simply by her presence.

And She felt it too. He was sure of it. Even though she held the power in this relationship… whatever this was, she knew the dynamic changed. And in his own submission, he felt at peace. Free.

Loved.

End.

#richonne #richonne fanfiction #rick and michonne #sub!rick #dom!michonne #rick grimes #michonne hawthorne #twd #twwd smut #daryl dixon #leannan fic #the walking dead #andrew lincoln #danai guierra

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pastelcheckereddreams · 2 years

Text

Hear me out, okay: Pete’s breakdown in episode 13 has a lot to do with Tankhun.

I know!!! I don’t want to think bad of Tankhun either! Tankhun is so earnest about Pete being missing - and even perhaps reveals too much of his own sharp intuition to Porsche, because as far as Porsche knew to this point, Tankhun doesn’t keep track of anything but his dramas. Which is how it’s supposed to seem. Which brings me to the next scene with Pete:

Allow me a little play-by-play commentary, because damnit, I can’t take Vegas’s face in episode 13. The way horror dawns across his face as Pete says, “I’ve lost my humanity. No - I never had it. I don’t exist. I have no feelings. I’m useless.” All the while forcing Vegas to hold a knife to his throat.

It’s the way Vegas utters, “Pete.” Helplessly, like it slipped out before he even knew what he was saying. Sexy, Vegas called him. Strong. “It’s no fun if you don’t choose.” He wants to know someone chooses him.

But Pete - “I don’t exist”, he’s not allowed to have feelings, or a choice. “I didn’t like it,” Pete whispers to himself - a confession. Private, secret. Pete asked himse, “Why didn’t I say no?” Because in his job, in his life, he’s not allowed to say no - not allowed to have a voice. And for all that Pete may have wanted Vegas, he didn’t want him - like this. No choice. No humanity.

This is Pete, unfettered. Raw. Unmasked. And Vegas can’t believe how blind he’s been. His mouth falters around silent vowels as his throat works to gasp in air.

It’s the way they wrestle for grasp of the knife, the way Pete screams “Let go!” and Vegas backs away instantly, hands raised and voice cracking - “Pete. Pete.”

“We can start over,” he says, “Just you and me.”

But here it is, the line that wrecked me:

“Need me? For emotional projection, like a pet with no feelings?” I initially read it as protection, but the implication is the same.

There is a parallel here between Vegas and Tankhun. I can’t help but think about Pete, and Arm and Pol, and how their job is laughed off as “babysitting”. Keeping the mad former heir happy and safe, emotionally stable in a realm of escapism. Just see how distressed Tankhun is without Pete (but, my love for Tankhun angrily whispers, he is distressed for Pete - although Pete doesn’t know this).

And isn’t that what the safehouse has been for Vegas? An escape? Where he has kept Pete like a pet. And isn’t that similar to how Tankhun keeps his bodyguards? Leashed to the newest kdrama. Think forward to how Tankhun makes literal dolls of Arm and Pol, to offer at Pete’s “funeral.”

With all that context, I keep thinking about Pete walking in, drunk, on Kinn and Porsche. He latched onto the easiest source of distraction, of emotional sedation, of relaxation for himself and Tankhun: alcohol. If he had truly had fun, he could’ve just gone to bed (and unknowingly left KinnPorsche to their semi-public sex kink). But he came back out, to talk to Porsche. To tell him of his evening. It sounds more and more desperate and lonely, the more I think about it.

So Pete feels like a glorified pet, and Pete has seen exactly how the lifespan of Vegas’s pets expire: in a cage. They are loved, but it is a desperate kind, born of anxiety. (My father had me care for them, Vegas said. All of them died, one by one.) And he just - can’t do it anymore. It was one thing, to endure emotionally. But physically? Giving himself up bodily to Vegas? It finally broke him.

[”What the heck is this?!”]

Vegas’s flinch though as Pete lashes out. God, it’s a traumafest up in here.

And then - god, Build does such a good job at displaying the pure anguish Pete feels at attacking Vegas, touch flittering over him in apology while at the same time patting him down for the handcuff key.

Because at his core, Pete cares. And Pete - Pete knows Vegas knew that. That’s why he couldn’t accept Vegas’s plea - “Okay, Pete, just - promise me you won’t leave me.” It felt like a manipulation.

But Pete finally makes a choice. He chooses himself. He chooses self-preservation.

And he could just run, let’s not forget that. He could run. But he doesn’t. He goes back to the main family, because it’s what he knows. It’s safe. I suddenly realise how little Pete has. Bodyguard to the main family - that’s the only identity we really know. The only identity he knows.

He chooses to go back. That is the first choice Pete will make for himself.

The second will come much later - when he chooses his heart over his duty. Vegas was right, when he said his tattoo was a joke. It was just another shackle. Maybe he could get it replaced. I’m sure Vegas or Porsche know a guy.

The important point is: Pete chooses what his heart wants. And despite knowing all his flaws, he chooses Vegas anyway. Because he’s seen the good in him.

“It’s no fun if you don’t choose.” You’re right, Pete thinks. And I choose you.

...

But I can’t just leave it there. I have to circle back to Tankhun, because I can’t smear him like that. Honestly, I think Tankhun hides a lot from his bodyguards. Pete, unable to see the depths of him, feels toyed with. But Arm - I think Arm gets it. We see in the final episode, Arm and Tankhun have developed a toy together. It’s fun, it’s explosive, it’s unhinged yet makes an impact. Arm can see Tankhun for who he really is: the former heir, with all his faculties and training, burdened by trauma but not shackled by it. Not since Porsche came along. But ultimately, I think it’s a side of himself Tankhun only feels safe allowing his family to see, lest the minor family come for him again.

“He’s nosy,” Tankhun tells Porchay about Kim. “He gets that from me.”

Kim certainly is nosy. Conspiracy-theorist pinboard nosy. Tracking a dozen leads at a time nosy. He got that from Tankhun.

Let that sink in.

Then remember again, how Tankhun worried for Pete, and went to Kinn and Porsche - and Porsche - to air his worries. He only lets family see beyond his mask.

Again and again, I keep seeing these small signs: Porsche is family now.

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whumpzone · 2 years

Text

Linden & Colton - 26

(masterlist)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, a tiny mention of throwing up

this is a flashback chapter! but since I want to keep the chapters specifically titled Flashback to be about Col's old master, this one can be a proper chapter. besides, it's been long enough <3 this chapter incorporates some text from this ask and I suppose this ask is a continuation!

Linden looked between the bored council worker and the pet at his feet.

He and the worker exchanged meaningless pleasantries. It all became very real in an instant. He couldn’t back out now. He didn’t want to back out, but- the reality still hit him like a blow to the stomach. His hand tightened around the doorknob.

The pet was frozen; the only part of him that was moving at all was his hair, a breeze lightly combing through it.

“No problems with sight, no sign of illness, uh, ate what he was given, uh….”

Linden bent at the waist slightly, smiling down at the pet, although the smile went unseen.

“Hello, there.”

Nothing. The man didn’t move an inch, except to squeeze his eyes shut. Linden paused.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

Linden watched, hoping for some reaction, but he stayed motionless.

“He can hear, though,” the worker added, predicting Linden’s next question. “Yeah, so… there’s that.”

The breeze picked up, but the man knelt in Linden’s doorway didn’t react.

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him,” he asked flatly.

The worker stretched his neck, thinking. “Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

Linden noted the slim leash. Other than that, the only other restraints were the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back.

It was true, the man looked like he’d be tall if he stood to his full height, but at present he wasn’t even daring to look up. Linden hadn’t fully considered the fact that the pet might have been violent. God, he might have had to actually restrain him, if that had been the case.

Am I insane? Linden suddenly thought, both frantic and oddly calm. Is this an insane thing to do? It’s too late now, anyway. What on earth is Vik gonna say?

“Okay, thank you. Enjoy your day.”

The leash was exchanged, the handcuffs removed. The worker gave him a quick nod goodbye and rattled away in his van as Linden looked down at the figure outside his house.

. . .

Pet couldn’t breathe.

He really couldn’t breathe. Terror weighed so desperately on his chest that he couldn’t draw any air into his lungs.

He was back. After all these months he was back, back in the clutches of a sole human, outside the house that would become his entire world in just a few moments.

It was all going to start again. He was going to re-learn how to please his owner. Every bit of his body and mind was going to be broken and re-set to his new Master’s desires.

“Hello, there.”

Pet hadn’t been spoken directly at in a long time. He was so accustomed to having humans talk about him as if he wasn’t there.

He was used to being tested, however. He’d been given no direct orders, nor permission to answer. He kept being good, with his head bowed low.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

The last thing I’m going to do is take an order from someone other than my Master, thought Pet. No. I have to show him that I’m loyal. If Master asks me, then I’ll speak.

His new owner was apparently satisfied with his silence, though.

Distantly, Pet felt himself wilt, just a tiny bit. This Master didn’t care to let him speak, then. This could be it for life. He might never utter another word.

But it was fine, it was fine, he was owned and this was what he was for, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he felt empty and scared and lonely on the streets? Hadn’t he been just days from starvation before those humans stuffed him into a cage at the local shelter?

His sinking heart was betraying him. He wished he could just be good, he wished he could be overjoyed at being given another chance to serve his only purpose.

The thought of punishments shouldn’t scare him, they were necessary. They helped.

Why did he want to throw up?

Pet would do anything to please this man. What silly animal thoughts could he ever need to articulate, anyway? Why was he acting like he was capable of having ideas worth saying?

“He can hear, though. Yeah, so… there’s that.”

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him.”

Pet would know displeasure a thousand miles off. His new owner was looking down at him in irritation. Pet wondered what the punishment would be if he pressed himself to the cold stone and begged then and there that he would be worthy.

“Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

That’s right, thought Pet, his eyes widening with emotion. I’m not a fighter, I’m nothing, I’m absolutely nothing. You can mould me, Master. I’ll be whatever you want. I’ll earn my stay and maybe you won’t have to hurt me too badly.

Having got all the information he needed, Pet’s new Master sent the handler away and Pet took the deepest breath of his life. In half a second he took in the coolness of the wind, the fresh air, the sound of birds and dogs and cars, knowing with absolute certainty that he would never be among any of it again.

. . .

The man was dressed in shorts that looked too small, and a t-shirt with a design so faded it looked like static. Even after the handcuffs had been taken off, his wrists remained crossed across his back. Like any movement might be the wrong one.

“Come in, come in.”

Linden was put further on edge when the man crawled in, still staring at the floor, still silent.

He bent down to unclip the leash and saw him flinch, oh god, oh fucking hell he was in so far over his head.

He took several steps back, winding the leash around his hand nervously. He needed a second.

All he knew was he had a spare bedroom, and enough time off work. He had food, and a harmless cat, and he guessed he would figure the rest out as he went.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.” Linden felt like he was speaking to himself rather than the pet. “You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

He felt more than a little relieved when the man obeyed.

His hair was a sandy kind of blond, and Linden was fairly sure that his eyes were green. It was hard to tell when they were moving across his house so rapidly. Linden had naturally noticed the endless collection of scars up and down his body, but as the pet lifted his head, he could see one more: a white line across his left cheek.

He lifted a hand to his own cheek and felt the soft flesh there. He was uneasy even imagining the pain that accompanied that single wound. What on earth had this man gone through? And- Linden thought despairingly- how would he ever earn his trust?

Looking to the side, into the living room, Linden saw Jaffa's empty cat bed, a small symbol of his peaceful household. Okay. Maybe things could be okay.

No- he would make sure they were okay. This man was his priority now. His property too, unfortunately.

He made his way a little bit closer to the man. “This will be your home now. For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

. . .

Pet couldn’t take it all in. A new house, a new Master, a new life. It felt like his thoughts were moving too fast for his brain.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.”

Pet exhaled and breathed in the indoor air for the first time. He would have to savour this too, before he was taken down to the basement. He remembered the smell of his old home well enough- his own blood and filth, with nothing to dilute it.

The wording was odd, but it sounded as if his new Master was looking for a project. A pet that needed some heavy refurbishments. And of course, he could speak however he liked- Pet would need to get used to it, learn to read between the lines.

“You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

Pet obeyed without thinking, but it struck him what a kindness this was. There was no need for him to see the house; he would spend most of his life chained away or blindfolded, and it wasn’t as if he were allowed to speak to compliment his new Master’s home.

Crouched in the doorway, he looked into the house. It was wooden and old; the bannisters were worn with age, the floorboards were exposed, and Pet’s new owner stood amongst it like an add-on. He was dressed in brown and pine green, with long black hair, and dark skin. Shadowy, Pet thought. The man, his Master, had a faraway look to him. Guarded, even a little suspicious.

Particles of dust floated between them as Master slowly came closer. Pet could only brace himself for whatever was about to happen. Master could strip him down, inspect him, hurt him, throw him into the basement and lock the door. He could do whatever he wanted to his new living property.

“This will be your home now,” Master said slowly. “For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

Pet listened. Master’s name went through his head, but didn’t linger. He knew it wasn’t for him to use.

“I’m going to take this off,” Master said, and usually this kind of warning meant Pet was supposed to prepare himself- take his shirt off, or turn around to offer his back, or hold out his wrists- but he had no idea what Master was even referring to. Panic set in. What was he going to do to him? What was there to take?

Master reached out and Pet didn’t flinch this time, because he knew better. He couldn’t suppress a gasp, however, when he felt cold fingers brushing against his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his fear.

He was so distracted by his own terror at what might be happening that he didn’t realise Master was undoing his collar until he pulled it away from Pet’s neck entirely.

He was untethered, again.

He’d been without a collar the whole time he’d been a stray. So long in fact that when he was collared just a few days ago, he had felt trapped, frightened, hardly able to breathe. Pets were meant to be collared. It had only backed up what he already knew, that he was defective in every way, that he never learned, that he needed to take a lot more pain before he could serve his purpose.

He almost reached a hand up to feel his bare skin, but caught himself. Was he trying to get a beating?

“That’s okay, you can touch it. You don’t need a collar in this house.”

Pet was so shocked he almost looked directly at his Master. He wasn’t just replacing the collar with another one? This was it?

He shouldn’t have felt relieved. He was bad. At least his old master had known that, and knew how to keep him in line. This Master was going to find out by himself. Pet was going to disappoint him at every turn until he realised that only the harshest discipline could keep him in line. And that meant a trip to the bedroom, an extended session with the handcuffs and restraints and-

His own pounding heartbeat brought him back to the present.

“You look so cold,” Master mused, though he spoke so quietly Pet wasn’t even sure if he was meant to hear it. “Come, follow me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

#linden and colton #pet whump #ive been writing consistently since the last official chapter #but i still suddenly feel nervous and out of practice hahaha #so i hope this satisfies!#and yes i put the line in about linden having time off work #because its been irritating me that we dont know why hes got sm free time #so you get a TINY BIT OF INFO. ONLY A CRUMB

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polyklok · 1 year

Note

G, Q, and T for any(or all if you want!) Dethklok members for the NSFW asks

I’m gonna do Murderface cause my boy isn’t getting enough love in my askbox :/

G- Goofy

As much as I want him to be, I don’t think he is. Murderface tends to lose himself while having sex, so caught up in the sensations, that he’s not really in the mindset to goof around. He might lightly chuckle if something inherently funny happens or if you make a joke, but that’s about the extent of it.

There’s also the possibility that if you try to continuously joke around in the bedroom, he’ll quickly become insecure about his performance. Just…let him do his thing.

Q- Quickie

Oh he loves them! He loves that you desire him so much that you need him right now, in the most inconvenient of times, and you’re willing to go at it hard and fast just to get it over with. He likes to press you up against a wall and pound into you while groaning in your ear. He likes the secretive feeling of sneaking around to find a convenient place to do it. He likes the afterglow of being the only two people in the room knowing what you just did.

If he’s at a multi-hour formal event or business meeting with you, the two of you are sneaking off at some point. He doesn’t care if it’s blatantly obvious after, with messy hair, wrinkled clothing, and flushed faces.

T- Toy

HELLS YEAH MURDERFACE LOVES SOME TOYS

I imagine him as a major switch, so both of you are gonna constantly using toys are each other, it’s great. Dildos, vibrators, fleshlights, cock rings/cages, handcuffs, blindfolds, paddles, literally anything and everything. His dresser drawer is like the rated R version of Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory; a world of pure imagination.

He likes to be pegged, locked up and edged, vibrated until his vision goes white, tied up, hit, etc and he likes to do all the same to you. You’re gonna have some real fun times with William’s array of toys.

#I know it seems like pickles isn’t either BUT I PROMISE ITS COMING #dethklok #metalocalypse #polyklok is real #dethklok headcanon #william murderface #metalocaypse headcanon #metalocalypse murderface #request filled #metalocalypse x reader

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

Text

Thank you both for reading this series, and for the requests!

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

A Pressing Engagement, Part 6

The villain pulled their car up, stopping in front of the hero’s apartment building.

“Alright,” they said, staring out the windshield. “Get out.”

The hero glanced back and forth between the villain’s face and their building. “What are you playing at, [Villain]?”

The villain tightened their grip on the steering wheel. “I realized I don’t love you anymore. Not with all the torment you cause. So, congratulations. The wedding’s off. Get out and enjoy your freedom.”

The hero squinted at them. “No way. This is some kind of trick. Or test. What, if I take the bait, will you accuse me of being disloyal or something, and put me back in a cell?”

“You really think me that unhinged?”

“You kidnapped me.”

“I’m a villain, [Hero].” They flashed a forlorn smirk. “Comes with the territory.”

The hero squared their shoulders. “I’m not getting out of this car until you tell me what the catch is.”

The villain almost wanted to laugh at the irony. What would they have given a mere few weeks ago, to have their hero so vehemently want to stay?

Instead of laughing, they shot the hero a frustrated glare.

“The catch is that you better get out right now before I change my mind and put you back in handcuffs.”

The hero took in a startled breath.

They got out of the car.

The villain drove off, and didn’t look back.

When they arrived at their mansion, they were calm as stone. They told their butler to give all the house staff the rest of the day off. Then they locked all the doors, turned out the lights.

They shuffled into their room, grabbed their oldest bottle of whiskey, and finally allowed themself to cry.

When, weeks later, the villain’s greatest enemies came for them, they could barely even bring themself to care.

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The villain was in a dungeon. Not a prison cell. An honest to god dungeon. With stone floors, and rusty bars, and chains hanging down from the wall.

It was the tackiest thing the villain had ever seen.

They heard a door creak open, and then footsteps as someone moved through the hallway towards their cell. It had to be Numb Touch, one of their greatest rivals. And, presently, their kidnapper.

The villain leaned their head back on the stone wall and closed their eyes. If Numb Touch was going to kill them, they wished they’d just get it over with already.

The villain's cell door opened, they heard some shuffling, and then the door slammed shut again.

“You have got to be kidding me,” a voice said.

The villain snapped their eyes open.

“I think this is a new low, even for you,” the hero went on.

“[Hero] . . . ” The villain blinked. “You’re here.”

The hero stood before them, looking tired, and a bit roughed up, and beautifully, radiantly furious.

“You know, you really had me going there,” the hero said as they settled against the far wall. “Here I thought that I’d finally gotten through to you. That you’d actually let me go.”

The villain was still struggling to process the hero’s sudden presence. “You think I orchestrated this.”

“I get pulled off the street and thrown in a locked cage with you? Uh, yeah. Of course you had something to do with it.”

The villain paused, and considered. “I can’t fault your logic.”

“So what’s your game plan here? Going to force us to be solitary confinement buddies until I’m in love with you?”

“No. That would be ridiculous.”

The hero’s eyes flicked to the chains on the wall. “You’re not going to . . . take advantage, are you?”

The villain followed their gaze. “Of course not. I thought I made it clear that I would never.”

“Then what? What are you planning?”

“Right now? The plan is to lean on this wall, and try to ignore how much it hurts to see you again.”

The silence stretched between them.

Then, the hero spoke. “Did you . . . really not arrange this?”

The two of them heard the hallway door open again.

Finally, the villain thought. Something to put me out of my misery.

“Greetings, my nemesis,” Numb Touch said, smiling on the other side of the bars. “Enjoying your soirée in my humble abode?”

The villain resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

“I do confess, I absolutely adore seeing you this way,” the villain’s rival continued. “Piteous. Wretched. Weak.”

“Did you have a point in coming here?” the villain asked, addressing the empty air.

“Indeed I did,” Numb Touch said with that same stupid smile. “[Hero], come here, please.”

“Leave me alone, numb nuts,” the hero said.

“I have a present,” Numb Touch said. “Something you will truly want to avail yourself of.”

The hero glanced at the villain. “Are they always like this?”

“Honestly? They’re usually worse.”

“[Hero],” Numb Touch said. “Get over here or I’m bringing your friends and family in to help motivate you.”

The hero sighed, and got up, pushing on their knees. They trudged over to the cell bars and stood, arms crossed, in front of Numb Touch.

“Extend your hand,” Numb Touch ordered.

“Are you going to stab it?”

“No.”

“Cause I’d really rather if you didn’t stab it.”

“Just hold out your accursed hand.”

The hero obeyed.

Numb Touch placed a glock in the middle of their palm.

The hero’s spine visibly straightened. “What is this?”

“A gift. A boon.” Their smile grew. “A chance to finally rid yourself of your vilest enemy.”

The hero’s eyes shot to the villain, their muscles stiffening.

The villain remained relaxed. They figured the reveal would be something like this.

“No way,” the hero said, and tried to return the gun.

Numb Touch forced it back in their hand. “I apologize if I made it sound optional.”

“Why do you even want this? What did they do to you?”

The villain allowed themself a shallow grin. That particular list of transgressions and grievances could run for miles.

“Why don’t you want this?” Numb Touch asked. “[Villain] is a menace, more to you than anyone.”

“God, why do people keep asking me that? Is it really so hard to believe that I don’t want them dead?”

“Yes, it is.” Numb Touch grabbed the hero’s shoulders through the bars, and spun them so that they were facing the villain. “So end it now, or I will. And I won’t make it pretty.”

The hero stared at the villain, eyes round and beseeching.

The villain wasn’t eager to die, of course. But . . . if it had to happen, maybe this way was for the best.

They closed their eyes again, and waited for the shot to come.

Part 7

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Taglist: @to-sneak-away-and-hide

#hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing snippet #writing #writeblr #snippet #whump #whump writing #imprisonment #not a prompt

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stayinguplate · 8 months

Text

winter king x depressed reader

This story will have mention’s of SH(self harm),mentioning death,crying,comfort

If you are uncomfortable reading this please don’t read but if not bothered please enjoy the rest of the story.

(If you are in pain or want to hurt yourself please don’t do it people do love you and need you and make sure to get some help in the process of healing)

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I was outside of the winter kingdom and was just looking at the sky and watching the falling snowflakes I then looked down and slightly lifted up my sleeves and see the fresh new marks that I made earlier this morning. They stung so I pulled my sleeve down again to avoid looking at it before anyone notices I then heard a joyful laugh from winter king as he skated towards me

“ why hello my dear reader how are you doing today “ he asked with an confident smile

I turned around and faked a smile hopefully paying it off

“ oh I’m doing good just starting at the sky enjoying the day and snow “ i said keep up the fake smile not breaking cover

Winter king laughs a bit as he brushes a small pile of snow off your head “ well I’ll be smart enough to mostly know that you have been out here a while ?” I looked surprised as I looked to the snow on the ground

“ heh I guess I forgot how long I was out here…I guess I really do have to keep track of time “ i said smile slightly disappearing but I push the feeling away and recompose myself

Winter king smiles and pats my shoulder gently “ it’s really not that bad it really is a wonderful day toda-“

he suddenly gets cut off as an explosion of candy booms go off and the candy queen appears “ hello everyone I’m back please please don’t clap I know you all missed me “ she said over confidently

“ no one is clapping…” i said struggling to stand up standing up

Winter king try’s to freeze the candy queen, Candy queen continues to dodge the attack and I expect her to grab winter king but instead suddenly grabs me

“ hey put my dear reader down!” Winter king yelled as he ran towards her his expression turns around real quick happy to upset

My eyes widen in shock as I’ve never seen him like this as Candy queen pushed me down onto her flying banana ship

( I’m sorry I don’t know is it a propeller ship? Or idk 😭)

“Sorry baby No can do I have something special I want to try with you friend “ she said laughing as she flew away

Winter king then looks very worried

“ ice scouts new mission is to save reader and make sure she is safe “ he said with a serious expression as he grabbed his sword “ now let’s go!” He yelled as they all headed towards the candy kingdom

As Candy queen crashes into the wall into her kingdom she throws me into the cage with the Candy handcuffs

I looked at her with confusion

“ why did kidnapping me?” I asked her wondering why she did

“ oh you see you have gotten a little in my way “ she said playing with her keyboard “ what do you mean?!” I said getting frustrated she then grabbed my collar of my shirt

“ listen you’re getting in the way of my wedding I need it filled with icicles and mostly candy ” she said daydreaming and looked back to me

“ now let us get started “

She played more with her keyboard and I turned around and saw a big rolling pin smashing dough and my eyes slightly widened as the banana guards grabbed one of my sleeves and accidentally ripped it off, revealing my scars. They didn’t care and grabbed my arms burning me since it was suger digging in my wounds,they then started dragging me towards it

I didn’t fight back not seeing the point even though it would be possibly extremely painful I let them through me into the empty tray and I saw the rolling pin raise high up I closed my eyes accepting my fate

waiting for all the life pain to be over

‘Nothing I felt nothing. Did it already hit me? ’I as I slowly open, my eyes seeing , winter King holding me. not planning on letting go , seeing the ice scouts taking down the

Guards and seeing Candy queen tied up passed out

I look up to winter king and I realize my arm!

I tried to cover it so he wouldn’t see but winter king’s cold hand stopped me ……

“ don’t I already know we’ll talk about it at the castle , you worried me sick”he said fully picking me up bridal style, the scouts were finished with the banana guards and I was saved…

As we got back to the castle everyone resumed calmly what they were doing

As winter king took me to his room gently placing me on his bed and pulling out a rubbing alcohol ,healing ointment,cotton pads and some bandages

He gently takes both of my arms and rolls up the other sleeve and sees more scars he takes the cotton pad and puts some alcohol on it and puts it on the first few scars

I winced slightly in from the burning sensation

“ you’re going to be just fine I promise ” he says as he cleans the next scar which is slightly bigger

I looked away ashamed but winter king gently grabbed my chin and has me look at him

“ why would you do this to your soft lovely skin “ he said as he got a new cotton pad and continued to gently clean the next cut I winced again

“ I …I’m sorry I just feel invisible and not good enough…” i said as I started lightly crying and I quickly wiped my tears away

“ please don’t push your feelings away reader you matter so much to me “ he said as he put healing ointment on the scars and wrapped it up in the bandages and continued on the other arm. Gently cleaning the fist scar “ you are never invisible to me you are the moon to me i long to see your lovely glow “ your tears finally fall listening to winter kings kind words

As winter king finishes wrapping up the bandage he hugs you gently and you hug back sobbing letting it out fully as he cresses your hair sitting next to you now “ Shhhh shhh it’s going to be okay I’ll always be by your side to protect you and my dear reader “ he said as he gently holds your face and kisses you gently while wiping a tear away .

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I hope you guys enjoyed

I honestly hope I did better on this one because I don’t know about the last one I like it but I don’t know if it was good , I hope you guys had a great day or night and I’ll see you another time while I’m writing more stuff.

#winter king #fionna and cake #deppresion #self healing #lovers #candy queen

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dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 2 years

Text

Werewolf Bites and Hot Summer Nights

An AU in which Laura and Max can’t find Hackett Quarry and end up at the Harbinger Motel, before becoming camp counsellors for the summer. Max is moody and secretive and Laura keeps bumping into the grumpiest sheriff with the cutest puppy dog eyes, and when he gives her his number ‘just in case’ a girl can’t help but drunk dial him one night. Cue overprotective and jealous Travis. And shouldn’t the officer get a birthday kiss?

Banter | Enemies to Lovers | Battle Couple | Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Eleven

White static crackled in Laura’s head. The scent of blood was thick in the air.

A few hours ago, she’d pointed a gun at Travis. Half-serious, half-goading, she’d grabbed his service weapon and shoved it in his face. Now that she was looking down the barrel of a similar weapon, she wondered how he’d sat there and calmly tied his tie.

“I’ll kill you,” Jedediah said again, his voice and hands shaking. “Bobby, don’t look at your ma.”

Bobby was sat up on the sofa, bandages around his shoulder and devastation writ large on his babyish features.

Laura still held the shotgun with both hands, her only defence in a house that was suddenly hostile to her.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Laura forced the words over numb lips, backing away. “It just went off in my hands.”

“Travis, get that gun off her,” Jedediah ordered his son.

Travis was staring down at his mom with a hollow expression on his face and sweat on his brow.

“Travis, I said get that gun off her.”

When Travis didn’t move, Jedediah lurched forward, still aiming the gun at Laura. He could just shoot her from the other side of the room, but maybe he wanted to take her alive.

Do whatever they did to people in this house when they chained them up or locked them in a cage.

As Jedediah passed by his son, Travis grabbed the handgun and twisted it out of his father’s grip.

“No.” The old man tried to snatch the weapon back, but his son turned away from him.

Towards Laura.

The gun was in his hand, and he stared at it. He raised his eyes to Laura, an unfathomable expression in his dark gaze. She remembered how this man could switch from friendly and relaxed to cold and threatening in just a moment.

Laura felt a whimper rise in her throat.

Don’t make me.

Don’t make me do it.

If Travis pointed that gun at her she’d have to point the shotgun at him. For the past few hours, they’d been allies, standing side by side and holding the darkness back. Working with him. Feeling his sturdy presence and hearing his words.

The night was when she liked him best, and it always had been.

Now she stood opposite him in a darkened room, his mother’s dead body laying to one side. Maybe he thought that Laura had shot her on purpose.

Maybe Laura had. She’d been filled with so much anger towards the woman who had hurt Travis. Beaten him down his whole life like he was a dog. Like he didn’t have feelings.

Laura took a deep breath. Her hands tightened on the shotgun.

Travis unloaded the handgun, threw it aside, and pocketed the bullets.

Relief poured through her. She opened her mouth to tell him she was sorry, but he gave a tiny, angry, shake of his head and turned to his father.

“Travis,” Jedediah barked. “You ain’t no good boy. She said it all along, your ma did. You ain’t no good boy.”

From the sofa, Bobby added his wails to his father’s shouts.

Travis marched from the room but came back a moment later with a blanket in his hands. He knelt down by his mom and laid the blanket over her, carefully tucking it around her.

With care.

With tenderness.

With…love?

Laura’s stomach was rolling. Oh, god. She’d killed his mother. What if she’d been wrong about her hitting him? Not that Mrs. Hackett deserved death for hitting her children, though the thought still made Laura’s blood boil.

She eyed the handcuffs on Travis’ belt and her back was suddenly slick with sweat. She’d just shot the sheriff of North Kill’s mother right in front of him. He wasn’t going to let his father torture her or shoot her, but Travis was a man of the law. There would have to be an investigation. He’d arrest her.

She’d go to prison.

No more vet school, and another person’s life on her conscience, always.

Travis got to his feet and noticed that Laura was staring at the handcuffs.

“Are you gonna, uh…” she began.

His brows lifted. “Arrest you?”

Hopelessness washed over Laura. The shotgun loosened in her grip and dropped to her side. She’d killed a woman. Of course she was going to be arrested. Would anyone believe that it had been an accident when every Hackett would say she’d killed the woman on purpose? Did it even matter anymore now that she’d killed a person whether it was an accident or not?

Travis held out his large hand, palm up. Laura let out a sigh and handed the shotgun over with a heavy heart.

Then she held her wrists out, waiting to be cuffed. What a pair she and Max would make in the cells at the police station. The werewolf and the murderer.

The sheriff reloaded the shotgun.

And held it out to her.

Laura stared up at him in disbelief.

In the distance, a howl went up. Silver light fell over the side of Travis’ face.

“Have you forgotten what we’re doing tonight?” he asked.

The counsellors were still in danger. Max had turned. There was a curse that needed ending.

And the wolf who had started it all was out there.

“But I—you—” She gestured at Mrs. Hackett, but Travis refused to look at his mother. He stepped closer with the shotgun and pushed it into her hands.

Jedediah Hackett dissolved into angry, clenched teeth sobbing. Bobby was whimpering on the sofa. The sounds hammered on Laura’s conscience.

She turned towards them. “I’m sor—”

Travis grabbed Laura’s arm without looking at her and marched her out of the room.

“Travis, I—”

“Not now.”

Outside, they got into his car, Travis gunned the engine and they shot away from the house in a shower of gravel.

Laura glanced over her shoulder through the grille. There was so much blood on the back seat. First Max’s, then Bobby’s.

Travis took a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Travis.”

“All the blood on our hands.” He seemed to be talking to himself as he shook his head. “The things my family has done. It was bound to happen.”

“What things?”

He glanced at her. “Are you okay? I can pull over if you need a moment.”

She goggled at him. “Me?”

He was comforting her?

When she’d just killed his mom right in front of him?

“I should have let go of the gun,” she choked out.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he replied savagely.

“What?”

Travis swallowed hard and wiped away the sweat on his upper lip. “Do you know who’s out there tonight, attacking counsellors? Biting Max? My family. All those deaths at the freak show? My family. The hikers, the journalist? My family.”

Laura stared at him, wondering what hikers and journalist he was talking about. Then she remembered the strange things she’d been hearing all summer. The missing people.

They weren’t missing. They were…dead?

“Oh. Oh.”

The sick feeling in her belly as she’d struggled for the shotgun might have been right. Mrs. Hackett hadn’t just been in a temper. Mrs. Hackett could have killed her.

“Did you…have you killed anyone, Travis?” she asked tentatively.

He was silent for a long time. Laura tried to imagine him murdering anyone in cold blood, but just didn’t feel right.

“I just wanted to protect my family,” he insisted, his hands tightening on the wheel. But he didn’t look like he believed his own words. “There’s blood on my hands even if I didn’t pull any triggers. All the things I’ve covered up. The people I’ve locked away.”

Laura listened to him, her heart in her throat.

“I thought, I’ll hold on a little longer. Just a little longer and it would all be over. Holding my family up. Stopping them from drowning. But then the rope gets heavier and heavier with the weight of all the things that you’ve done.”

He stared into the darkness as he drove.

“All the things that I’ve done,” he finished quietly.

He wasn’t asking for her absolution, but it felt like he was inviting her judgement. Who was she to judge him?

Every month he’d hoped that the curse would be over, and every month, hoped had died a little more. These were desperate days. Little wonder that he’d acted so strangely the night they’d first met. In the days in between the full moon, he’d allowed himself a few precious moments with her, but his attention was always over the horizon, waiting for the next full moon.

He just wants it to be over.

Laura couldn’t change what had already happened, but she was going to try with everything she had to give him an ending.

Nothing else mattered tonight.

“When this is over…” Laura stopped herself and shook her head. It wasn’t her mother who’d been murdered in front of her tonight. He was probably feeling very different things to her.

“What?” Travis asked.

“Nothing. It’s stupid. Too much has happened.”

“No kidding. When I was deputy, things were quiet here in North Kill. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I miss quiet.”

Laura licked her lips, thinking.

What the hell. She might never get the chance to say this after the sun came up.

“I was going to say, if things were different, would you have wanted to go on that date with me?”

She hadn’t thought about going on a real date with Travis until she’d been facing down his mother, but now it seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world.

“Maybe you’d ask me out. Maybe I’d ask you.”

“If things were different?” he asked.

“Yeah. Normal. No werewolves.” No mothers being murdered.

He drove in silence for a few minutes.

“I would have said no,” Travis said quietly.

Pain twisted in her heart. Even now when they were playing make-believe, he couldn’t pretend there may have been something real between them, if they’d had a chance?

“But you would have kept showing up. Pestering me. Wearing those tiny T-shirts and cute little dresses. Causing trouble. Nagging me.”

“Nagging!” Laura burst out with a laugh. “I don’t nag.”

“Being a brat to get my attention,” Travis went on, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And before I would know what was happening, I would be kissing you. Tasting you. Listening to you moan in that gorgeous way you do. My thoughts have been thick with Miss Laura Keaney no matter how many times I’ve told myself, Travis, she’s not for you.”

Laura took a shuddering breath, remembering the power of his kissed. His hands on her body. “Why isn’t she for you?”

Because she sure fucking feels like she belongs to you.

Travis’ smile became bittersweet. “Because Miss Laura Kearney has a bright and beautiful life ahead of her, and I’ve messed up mine. I was messing it up for years before the curse came to North Kill.”

“Maybe you just need to give yourself another chance.”

“But I’d go on that date, Miss Kearney. I’d show up at your place in my best clean, pressed shirt and I’d ring the doorbell. You’d whisk the front door open with a smile, wearing something you’d know would get my heart pounding. I’d pretend to feel casual and say, You ready? And you’d smile even wider and reply, I was born ready, Travis Hackett. And even though I’d be holding your hand and leading you to my car, really it would be you leading me, because I’d follow wherever you go, if I could.”

Laura swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“Come with me,” she whispered fiercely. “Leave this place and start new.”

Travis glanced out the window at the full moon. “I’ll never leave North Kill. I’ll die here. When dawn comes, you’ll leave here forever. And that’s the way it has to be,” he finished with finality.

It wasn’t Laura’s fight. He’d let her come along tonight because she’s a force of nature, and he’s selfish and he wanted her with him. When the morning came, he’d put aside what he wanted, as he had so many times before. It didn’t get any easier to do that but he’d had plenty of practice by now.

Laura was opening her mouth to reply when something large bolted across the road in front of them. Travis slammed on the brakes and they both lurched forward as the car squealed to a halt.

His arm snapped out by reflex, and he grabbed hold of Laura, pushing her back into her seat. His heart was beating wildly. “Fuck. I couldn’t remember if you put your seatbelt on.”

She laughed weakly and tugged on the strap across her chest. “Safety first, sheriff. What the fuck was that?”

“That was Silas.”

They both stared after the creature as it disappeared into the woods, injured but not beaten. And far from dead.

“Ah, fuck. He’ll go somewhere and lick his wounds now.”

Laura thought for a moment. “When Max and I were run off the road, I went for a walk and came across this old, broken-down carnival wagon. It looked like it was being used as some kind of nest.”

Travis’ eyes widened. “That was Silas’ cage before the fire.”

“You think he might go there?”

“It’s not far from here. Let’s find out.”

A few minutes later they parked at the side of the road at the same place that Travis had pulled Laura and Max out of the mud all those weeks earlier. The tire marks were visible disappearing into the trees.

“Look.” Laura pointed. There were animal footprints in the mud.

Big ones. Fresh ones.

Travis dug in his pocket and came out with two silver bullets.

Laura opened her mouth to ask for one, and then shut it again. His family was out here, and she’d already murdered one of them tonight.

Travis’ hand appeared in her peripheral vision. He was holding out a silver bullet to her.

“No, it should be you,” she said with a shake of her head.

“It should be both of us.”

The man who never asked for help was asking for her help? Laura just stared at the bullet. “What if I mess things up again?”

“You’ve seen Silas. You know how he looks compared to the other wolves.”

“You trust me?”

His expression was clear. “I trust you.”

The shotgun blast echoed in her ears. She saw Mrs. Hackett’s mutilated face as she lay on the ground. “But I don’t deserve that.”

He held the bullet out to her, silently insisting. He was giving her a chance to make things right. Guilt lay heavy on his heart and conscience, but he was thinking about hers.

“You’re a good man, Travis Hackett,” she said, taking the bullet and loading it into her shotgun.

He muttered huh like he didn’t agree with her, and he turned to face the forest.

The dense, moonlit forest.

Laura shivered even though she wasn’t cold. “Do you think the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry is out there?”

“Eliza Vorez died six years ago.”

Laura whipped around to stare at him. “What?”

But Travis was already marching into the trees, his expression determined. He waited for Laura to catch up to him and matched his steps with hers.

Strange how it felt so right stepping into these woods with her and not Dad or Bobby, like he’d always imagined. When it was over, it was her face he’d see in the dawn light, the sky painted golden, and her face lit from within. Both as bright as the other, but one far more beautiful.

Dark shadows striped the path ahead and branches crowded out the moonlight. There were pieces of burnt painted wood strewn about. Old, sun-bleached Harum Scarum posters fluttered in the bushes.

“He’s there,” Laura breathed.

They came to a halt and saw the wolf across the clearing, crouched by his broken trailer. There was blood on his back, but he turned slowly toward them and dropped into a fighting crouch like he barely noticed his wounds.

The enormous wolf drew its lips back from its teeth in a silent growl.

“Stay behind me and keep your weapon up,” Travis told Laura, and stepped forward. He needed to get closer to ensure a killing shot.

A woman’s ghostly wail pierced the air.

The wolf bounded up on top of its broken caravan and disappeared from view into the darkness.

“Shit.” Travis panned left and right with the shotgun. He heard a crack of a branch to the right and whirled around.

A huge figure erupted from the trees to the left, claws first and snarling, and landed on top of Laura. She screamed and her gun went flying from her hands.

“No.” Travis lifted his weapon to fire but someone shouted in his ear. A woman’s voice screaming “SILAS.” He shot at the place where the werewolf had been a split second earlier and missed.

His only silver bullet.

Laura screamed again, this time in pain. The top half of her body was hidden behind a tree.

Travis rounded the tree and fired again, and the shotgun exploded in Silas’ back. The wounded wolf backed off into the trees. Laura lay whimpering on the ground.

Travis lurched forward and fell to his knees beside her. The stench of blood was thick in the air.

She sat up, wincing and clutching her bicep. “It’s just my arm. I’m okay. Where’s my shotgun?”

Travis saw that there was blood running from the bitemark, but it oozed slowly, and she was already shaking herself off.

But now she was cursed.

If we don’t shoot him, Laura will have to stay.

Travis tried to shove that terrible, enticing thought away, but his mind kept presenting him with images of him lovingly locking Laura up once a month. Kissing her through the bars before she changed. The rest of the time when the moon wasn’t full, she could be—

“There it is.” Laura pointed across the forest floor to where the shotgun lay. The gun with the silver bullet.

Travis mentally slapped himself and turned to face Silas. There wasn’t going to be anything more with Laura. This ended now.

Silas prowled back into the clearing, sensing that his prey was weakened and vulnerable.

Travis could feel the wolf’s ravenous gaze on his throat. “I’ll get that gun. You should get back to the car.”

“After that thing bit me? No way. Now it’s personal.” She looked at the gun and then at Silas. “You get the gun. I’ll distract him.”

“What? Laura, wait—”

“I’m already cursed. It doesn’t matter. Hey, fuckface.” Laura waved her arms wildly at Silas, leading him away from the shotgun.

This girl was insane. She was baiting a predator three times her size.

“Are you crazy? Laura, get back.”

But she wasn’t listening to him.

“It’s working. Travis, get the—”

But Silas seemed to realize that Travis getting that gun was the real threat, and with a snarl the wolf pivoted, bunched his legs under him, and pounced.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Laura said, switching direction and throwing herself into the werewolf’s path. She and Silas collided in mid-air, and they fell heavily to the ground, the wolf on top of her.

Silas snarled, and sank his teeth into Laura’s shoulder, right by her neck. She screamed, writhing beneath the animal.

Travis fired again and darted forward again for the gun, but Silas swiped at him with his claws. Pain exploded across his chest, and he fell to one knee.

Get up. She’s fucking dying, you useless fucking idiot.

There was no way they could kill Silas tonight, but he had to get Laura to safety.

He lurched to his feet just as Laura drove her elbow into Silas’ snout, and he backed off just long enough for her to fling her arm out and grab the shotgun.

She aimed it right at Silas’ head. “Eat silver, you piece of shit.”

Travis realized with perfect, terrible clarity what was about to happen. “No, don’t—”

A blast rent the air. The silver bullet punctured the soft flesh beneath Silas’ jaw and burst inside his brain. Where there had been a wolf a moment ago, now there was a dead boy. He fell limply onto Laura.

“Laura,” Travis gasped, running to her side, and shoving the boy off her. She lay in a shaft of moonlight, and the blood coating her flesh was black and ominous.

And there was so much.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll heal like Max did.” She gave him a strained smile, showing him that she would be brave and tough it out until the wound closed. Then understanding dawned on her face and her smile died.

The curse of Hackett’s Quarry was broken.

Everyone who’d been bitten was no longer cursed. Wounds would no longer magically knit back together.

Laura looked terrified for a second, and then she nodded, seeming to accept what was happening to her.

Travis didn’t accept it. He wouldn’t fucking accept it.

“You’ll be fine,” Travis said frantically, pressing his hands over the wound across her neck and shoulder. She was slippery with blood, and he could feel the gaping edges of the bite beneath his fingertips.

Laura swallowed took an unsteady breath. “Don’t tell your family about me, okay? Say it was you who shot Silas.”

He needed a bandage. Laura had a shirt tied around her waist and Travis tugged it off and tore it into strips. She’d be okay as long as he slowed down the bleeding and got her to a hospital.

A hospital that was over an hour away.

“Tell me about our date,” she said, wincing as he tied the bandage. “I like the idea of you wearing that pressed shirt, smelling all fresh and woodsy.”

“Don’t try to talk.” He tied another strip of cloth tight around her shoulder and beneath her armpit.

Laura’s face was pale in the moonlight and her eyes were glassy. “I can feel your hand in mine. You’re holding it as we drive along and the radio’s playing.”

“Fuck, there’s so much fucking blood,” he said through his teeth.

“It’s a warm night and I don’t even care where we’re going as long as it’s with you.”

“You’re going to be fucking fine.”

“Travis.”

He met her gaze.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, and then shivered.

This wasn’t happening.

Travis scooped her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. She’d shot his mother, and she was paying him back by curing this curse. But lives couldn’t be weighed against each other like that. She didn’t get to do this.

He didn’t give his goddamn permission.

“So, where are you taking me on that date?” Laura trailed bloody fingers down his face, her eyelashes fluttering.

She wasn’t listening to him.

She never had.

It’s what he’d admired so much about her. Laura Kearney, her own person, right to the end.

He pressed his lips to her temple and in a shaking voice whispered, “Anywhere you want, sweetheart. I’m following you. I always am.”

If this was the price of ending the curse, he didn’t want it. He didn’t fucking want it.

Her eyes closed and her hand tumbled to the ground.

“Laura? Laura.”

Somewhere in the woods, a woman laughed a slow, gloating laugh.

***

☹

Space Song by Beach House plays.

#the quarry #travis hackett #laura kearney #travis x laura #hackearney #fanfiction

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