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#tw dark
tojisun · 3 months
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he would bug your phone or plant one in your bag and call it a form of affection. he would learn your entire week’s schedule and set up “coincidental” bumping just so he can spend time with you. he would furrow his brows in faux worry and tell you he can drop you off. “isn’t it late for you to be out, anyway?” and he has been so kind and gentlemanly that you don’t even question it – eagerly hopping in his car and prattling your address, not knowing that he already memorizes it by heart.
you start noticing him romantically. how could you not? he checks all of the boxes of your type!
— simon (ghost) riley, aizawa shouta
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morallyinept · 5 months
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Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃
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Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃
Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)
Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here
Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.
Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.
Enjoy! 🖤🎃
MASTERLIST
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The lounge is dimly lit. 
Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions. 
The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.
The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze. 
Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie. 
It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens. 
But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.
You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.
As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist. 
A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.
Run bitch!
You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you. 
The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away. 
The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.
"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.
Oh, the irony.
A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out. 
You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-
"BOO!" 
A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.
The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.
Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.
"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.
Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.
"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"
You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.
"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath. 
You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask. 
It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.
"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.
"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.
"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him. 
"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”
"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.
You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.
It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this. 
"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water. 
He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.
"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass. 
You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.
"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him. 
"Revenge." You titter. 
“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting. 
"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit. 
"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone. 
"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you." 
"You sure?"
"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.
"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.
"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early." 
"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again. 
You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s. 
The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 
"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.
You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.
You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff. 
"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt. 
"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.
You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me." 
Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you. 
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An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper. 
The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.
A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM. 
You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.
The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.
What the hell?
You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.
“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.
But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch. 
You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.
You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge. 
Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.
“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act. 
Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles. 
“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.
“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.
The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled. 
Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.
You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices. 
Of all the nights to play fucking pranks. 
Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars. 
Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.
The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers. 
As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too. 
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It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep. 
A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly. 
It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty. 
You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead. 
You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again. 
At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs. 
“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up. 
You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.
You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up. 
“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait. 
There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards. 
Nope!
Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.
You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.
“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!
The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house. 
“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door. 
It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs. 
“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.
You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.
Yeah. Come on, you fucker.  
With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.
You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.
Fuck! 
You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling. 
“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.
"Frankie, answer me."
You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.
The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction. 
“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.
The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor. 
You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams. 
You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide. 
You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.
His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes. 
The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even. 
But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap. 
He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly. 
In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache. 
“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him. 
They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table. 
Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.
You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly. 
"Get off of meeee!" 
The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.
The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.
Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.
You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh. 
"Help! Hel-pffh!"
The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups. 
"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night." 
The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.
You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.
Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed. 
The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.
“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts. 
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You’re frozen, paralysed. 
The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.
You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears. 
Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt. 
The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you. 
Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.
You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.
But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door. 
Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind. 
Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes. 
Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.
You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are. 
He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second. 
You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.
You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles. 
“Please!” You cry out louder.
His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around. 
Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.
The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.
The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly. 
You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.
He’s had enough now. 
He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack. 
Oh fuck.
“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.
You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges. 
“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder. 
You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots. 
“Joel?" You gasp. 
“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo. 
“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness. 
Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.
“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat. 
Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.  
"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.
"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core. 
You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin. 
Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape. 
You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch. 
Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.
You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"
Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.
He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.
"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.
His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.
But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.
“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts. 
Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.
It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.
Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.
The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 
He's right. You do want this. 
"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt. 
You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs. 
You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.
He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.
You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”
"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"
You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.
He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it. 
Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks. 
“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you. 
You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.
Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"
You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you. 
"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"
Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers. 
"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.” 
A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.
He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.
Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold. 
You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood. 
You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.
You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen. 
He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.
Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it. 
"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin. 
"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you. 
He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.
Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.
He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak. 
“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove. 
"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed. 
"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.
You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.
"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"
You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.
Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh. 
Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt." 
"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.
Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots. 
"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. 
"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.
"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice. 
"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.
Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.
It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you. 
And it feels oh so fucking good.
"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.
You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup. 
Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"
"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half. 
You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut." 
"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve. 
Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.
And you kinda don’t want it to. 
“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh. 
He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it. 
It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off. 
But you don’t want to.
You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again. 
“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts. 
“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"
But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.
You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained. 
"Daaaaaave!" You wail.
“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth. 
You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.
You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined. 
You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.
“Fuck!” He yells out. 
When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.
You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped. 
He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.
You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe. 
You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way. 
“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge. 
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Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.
He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back. 
You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat. 
“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says. 
He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense. 
“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point. 
You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists. 
Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters. 
He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.
An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s. 
But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts. 
“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes. 
You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.
“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.” 
"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.
"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”
Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.
His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.
"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss. 
"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.
You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says. 
Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.
"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out." 
“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.
You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.
"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease." 
Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.
A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host. 
But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.
Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal. 
“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt. 
Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns. 
"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp. 
Fuck!
"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself. 
You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.
"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair." 
You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight. 
“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.
Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.
It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.   
"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.
"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours. 
"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.
"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head. 
"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”
"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie." 
“Fuck her,” Dave encourages. 
Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go." 
"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.
Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back. 
He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in. 
Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust. 
Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you. 
Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”
“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"
Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.
He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt. 
Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place. 
You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.
Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you. 
Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist. 
You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.
You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.
Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both. 
Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier. 
His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs. 
He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers. 
Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans. 
"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply. 
You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.
You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls. 
"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.
"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.
You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes. 
“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.
 A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.  
"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine. 
"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass. 
"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.
“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.
Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”
“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect. 
Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.
He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.
You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.
Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit. 
You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it. 
“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip. 
The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.
You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.
You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.
You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.
They're everywhere, they're all over you.
Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.
You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop. 
“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his. 
The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.
You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it. 
Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release. 
“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.
Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you. 
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"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.
The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.
Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.
"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.
"Yours," you whimper.
"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"
"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.
"Aah!" You groan.
“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.
"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.
He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly. 
“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.
“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”
The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.
And you fucking love every single second of it. 
After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you. 
He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us." 
They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.
Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.
“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."
Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.
“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.
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You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening. 
But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.
Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure. 
You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something. 
She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.
Take care of her tonight. Dave adds. 
Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.
You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.
The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable. 
You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it. 
"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.
Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.
You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."
He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"
"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been. 
"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles. 
"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy. 
"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.
You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur. 
“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile. 
He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.
"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear. 
"I loved every second of it," he assures. 
"No jealousy?"
"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."
You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments. 
You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him. 
"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"
"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”
You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.
"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?" 
You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah." 
"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.
"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.
You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.
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It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty. 
His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.
“Did you do something to the power?” You query.
He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns. 
“You guys thought of everything.” You smile. 
"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.
You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.
It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house. 
Underneath is a message typed out:
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You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.  
The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:
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“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.
"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms. 
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I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃
🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀
MASTERLIST
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sunflowerxthoughts · 8 months
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Dark! james smut? Something with forced breeding kink or piss kink? 🥹 I'm a shamed whore asking for crumbs 😩
James has been obssesed with you for a while now. His friends are worried, both for him and for you. They see the way he has uterly manipulated you into a relationship.
He won’t leave you out of sight. He controls everything around you. But when it comes to sex, you still have control, you never once have let you come in you.
“Just like that darling, big stretch.”
“Mmmm Jamie” you moan as he pounds relentlessly into you. “Feels so good.”
“I know it does, sweet girl. Only Jamie could make you feel this good, huh?”
“Only you Jamie. I- i- I’m going to cum, s’too much.”
“Let’s cum together huh?”
“No- no Jamie wait!”
He doesn’t let you finish. He simply holds you tight to his body and cums inside of you, much against your wishes.
“Jamie no!”
“Nice and full, my love. For ever mine now.”
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Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC III
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Warnings: heavy siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, noncon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed', kidnapping
I II IV V
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With just HL to interact with, loneliness was inevitable, even if you wanted to resent him and keep your fury
when he'd unintentionally scared you, HL would keep away from his apartment for a while. and when he did stop in, he made sure to avoid you the best he could
it's you who surprises him one morning at the kitchen table with breakfast. You invite him to eat with you
his company was better than none
you decide to play nice, if only to better your situation
but it's a tentative companionship. both of you walk around the other like hesitant/wounded animals; unsure if the other means to harm
neither of you share anything in common, much of that thanks to the different environments you were raised in. in your differences though, you find one another's stories to be interesting (although at times you feel your heart shatter at how lil HL was treated)
thanks to the small conversations you've been having, his mood positively shifts
enough so that Ashley notices with great relief.
painfully slowly there's an odd bond forming
one night when you decide to order in pizza, you witness Homelander in leisure wear. you'd thought that suit was glued on to him. he seemed just as nervous, vulnerable even without his blue spandex
"What was it like, growing up with a family? with love?"
and damn did that hurt you to hear him asking that. you actually reach out and hold his hand, touching him for the first time and HL is incredibly tempted to lean in and claim your lips with his own. he doesn't want a repeat of scaring you though
even with a bond having been formed, he doesn't like when you ask to go outside of the apartment. he'll snap at you with a red gleam in his eyes. afraid that you'll run off the moment he grants you such a simple liberty
"You're treating me like a prisoner, John." that was another new habit, calling him John. Making him sound like a mortal and not a god "People will care that I'm gone."
"No one has said anything so I guess you're not as important as you think." he'll hiss while grabbing the front of your shirt.
instant regret
especially when you start to cry, broken down after how long you'd been cooped up in there; under his complete control. you're at your wit's end and don't know what to do anymore
"I can't be happy here, not when my basic freedom has been taken from me. No matter how sweetly you speak to me or all the gifts you throw at me. It will never be enough to make me forget that."
How is it possible that you make him so angry yet also make him want to hold you close to him
He CAN'T release you though. Couldn't even fathom letting you go. but you've had it
a physical fight breaks out and near destroys his apartment. you're body is screaming for freedom and if he wasn't going to give it to you, well, you were going to take it yourself.
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also please tell me some HC you guys have of Homelander x sis!Reader 😊
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hana-no-seiiki · 6 months
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wriothesley x reader
- can be interpreted as a platonic pairing, mention of blood/violence but nothing too graphic. mostly fluff. it’s an unhealthy dynamic . . . but not for these two lmfao.
this was so unusual.
usually wriothesley was known to have been all over you. fussing over your safety and well-being. you were a capable fighter, sure, but he didn’t take risks in terms of where to assign you. you were his friend since childhood, basically his entire life at this point.
it was safe to say that no one expected him to order a stand still.
these cultists were moments away from sacrificing you to their dead lord and all he did was watch as they manhandled you.
“so, mx. any last words?”
it completely seemed like his men were more concerned over your well-being. a warden even went against orders and began to move in before —
“[y/n], you may stop playing with your food.”
it was a bloodbath, and to some, it was magnificent. bodies were torn apart as flowers began rapidly sprouting from the sanguine liquids that splattered in the area.
and you were in the middle of it.
despite that, wriothesley had no readable expressions on his face as he walked towards you. a black and red handkerchief in his grasp.
he wipes of the mess, possible human guts, on your face and arms. not even fazed by the massacre you have caused.
“i’m still hungry, wri.”
“i know.” he kisses you on the forehead. a tender and pure expression of affection, respect, or love. it's a gentle brush of lips against the skin, just above the brows. a warm act for a cold man. a wholesome show of affection for a macabre scenario.
“that is why i brought the rest here for you.”
(might make some supplementary fanart to this scenario after im done being absolutely hornee for furina so look forward to that! thank you so much for reading!)
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skankhunt44 · 9 months
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adaelines · 10 months
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omg ok imagine having john price as ur stepdad and like wearing tiny pjs/revealing clothes/no bra/whatever around the house so that he'll end up giving in and fuck u while telling u what a filthy slut u are trying to entice him while ur mom is out of the house/away on a business trip/anywhere else
i would lose it lol what a dream
NO I LOVEEEE THIS IDEA SO MUCH.
I'm a whore who needs to be the centre of attention so I imagine he only stays with your mum For you, he always brushes her affection off with a shrug of his shoulders, explaining that he's simply too tired for anything tonight
little does she know the moment she's asleep he's sneaking into your room with his hand down your panties
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cannibalizedyke · 1 year
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(I LOVE YOUR NEW THEME)
wednesday x reader request/prompt: you bury/hide/get rid of a body together <3
sy u concern me sometimes😭😭 /lh /aff
THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU, MOVE ON AND SCROLL. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME.
🪦anything for you🪦
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word count: 297
warnings: DARK, murder, death, semi-graphic but not really
taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1 @puppy-coded @sw34terw34ther @starstruckwillows @katsukis1wife @manyfandomsfanvergent
“is he dead?” you asked apathetically, glancing at wednesday.
your girlfriend nodded once, still staring at the mangled body on the ground.
you sighed. “what did he do?”
she looked up at you. “he insulted you,” she said simply.
that shouldn’t have given you butterflies. it did anyway.
you looked back at the body and twisted your lips. “need help taking care of it?”
wednesday grinned—which was more like the smallest of smiles on her—in spite of herself and nodded again.
you bit your lip and tilted your head slightly to the right. “okay. help me get him to the woods.”
she grabbed his legs—or what used to be his legs; they were so brutally broken and bloodied you could hardly even tell what they once were—while you grabbed the upper half of him and the two of you hoisted him up and carried him into the forest a few feet away from you. neither of you had shovels or anything else to dig with so you kneeled in the dirt and started clawing in the mud with your hands.
it took at least half an hour and some significantly bloodied nails, but eventually you’d created a hole big enough for the body. the two of you dumped him unceremoniously inside and threw the dirt back on top.
“there,” you sighed, leaning back in exhaustion. “good?”
wednesday examined your handiwork and nodded, content. “yes.” she looked at you. “thank you.”
“of course.” you inched closer to her and gently caressed some dried blood off her cheek with your thumb. she shut her eyes. “i’d do anything for you.”
her eyes snapped open. “would you kill someone for me?”
you hesitated, momentarily searching your heart for the answer. “yes,” you concluded. “after all, you did so for me.”
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onsunnyside · 1 year
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Slutty thot incomingg
so diving back into the Howard verse, can u imagine how dominant Ari is with starlet when she’s in heat😭 pls she’s just so desperate to get railed by him and he mocks her so much.
“Aw baby did u cum again already? God what would you do if I wasn’t here to fill you up with my knot huh? And to think u tried shoving me away when I showed up earlier. Now be a good girl and take everything I give you”
I’m 🫠🫠🫠 pls I can’t wait to return to this story omg
-💋
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AHH YES YES YES !! I THINK YOU ARE THE MOST EXCITED FOR THAT FIC BESTIE AND I LOVE IT !!
The door swings open and Ari is blasted with a heady smell. "I said I'd pick you up." He clenches his jaw, his blue eyes drifting over your sweaty face and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest.
You clutch your jacket tightly, almost tripping as he tugs you roughly into the frat house. "I-I made it just fine."
He scoffs, peeking out the window for any fucking creeps who followed you here.
Omegas in heat are assaulted so often that it seems normal, and Ari would brush it off if it were anyone else (especially given his family legacy), but not you. Sure, you could hold your own, you've proven that dozens of times, but not when you're in heat. You're too fucking stubborn to give him control at a time like this.
"I swear, you're so fucking stupid sometimes." Ari growls, shoving you up the stairs, "why can't you be a good omega at least once?"
You cover your whimper with a cough and ignore the uncomfortable wetness soaking your underwear. Good omega, didn't you want to be a good omega for him? No. No, not him or any alpha. Just this once you'll accept his help, no matter how sick it made you feel to be intimate with him, to let him see you in your most vulnerable state.
"Just for that, I should just send you back home. See if some other alpha wants you instead since you clearly don't care whose cock you get." He forces you into his bedroom and then slams the door shut, locking it with a flick of his fingers. "If you did, you wouldn't have walked here with your slick dripping down your legs for everyone to smell. Is that it, starlet? You wanna be a wet hole for any bastard who asks?"
You should leave right now, prove him wrong and go through this heat by yourself, but in his room and surrounded by his smell and warmth, you can't physically leave. Your body won't allow you to move unless it's to please your alpha—not your alpha, but definitely the worst on campus.
"I want you to beg for me. Use that pretty mouth for something good."
You clench your fists as another wave hits, your juices smearing through your jeans. "please, help—"
"On your knees." He grins cockily, crossing his arms. "Go on, I'm waiting."
You drop to the floor, face level with his crotch and that hard bulge through his pants. His scent fills your lungs and head, making you dizzy and slip further into that blissful, but needy headspace.
"Please, alpha, help me t-through my heat." You beg through gritted teeth, "please help me. I—I need you."
"That's cute. For an actress, I expected more but I have a better idea." He smirks, slowly tearing off his shirt to toss it onto your lap.
You can't resist bringing the fabric to your nose, inhaling his musk like you're addicted to it—in a way, you are.
His hand lands on the back of your head, pulling you forward until his clothed cock brushes your lips, "Ask for my knot, ask for my cum inside your tight omega cunt. Ask me to fuck you through your heat. Beg me to make you my breeding bitch."
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bloody-cupcakes · 1 year
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If theres one thing I love, its unwilling yanderes.
Give me a yandere who hates being one, and never wanted to be. And yandere who knows they're sick in the head, who knows they have unhealthy and obsessive thoughts about their darling but they just cant seem to help themself
Better yet, give me a darling who knows about their freakish, disturbing thoughts and loves them anyway. Give me a darling who, although they know being with them isnt exactly the safest option and they might actually die from it one day, still adores them for who they are, not who they could be
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jadespeedster17 · 1 year
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Seven Minuets
Summary: Grian wasn’t having a fun time, his current boyfriend, Richard, was starting to annoy him. He was happy Scar was here and all, if just for support through this ‘guys night’. Playing stupid games and Richard not knowing how to keep his hands to himself.
Notes: Saw a prompt from one of @bluiex anon’s, Stalker!Killer!Scar and Grian. Decided why not. More Killer... not much Stalker, it’s hinted.
Warning: Smut(ish) (heavy make out really), Stalker Behavior, Blood, Murder, Death, Romanization of very dark things, dirty talk, and cults. (Scar’s in a murder cult so yeah)
Disclaimer: Author does not in IRL think these things are even remotely okay behavior, this is a fic, it is fiction. Take the warnings to heart, and don’t be an ass.
-
It was loud, it smelled of beer, and it just wasn’t as fun as Grian had hoped. He was now seriously regretting turning down Jimmy and Tango’s offer to hang with them, Ren, Bdubs, and Cub. Even though Scar came along, that didn’t do much to stop the rise of irritation in Grian’s temper. He was just trying to enjoy the movie, with the sound of his current boyfriend doing a shots competition. 
He sighed a bit, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Scar gave him an apologetic smile, “We can still ditch and head over to Jimmy’s, sure he’ll let us crash for the night.” he suggested, even if he tried to hide the disgust in his eyes at the group of guys.
Grian was seriously tempted, though he was too much of a kind person to just leave. Seemed rude... Rude like Richard stumbling over to him, the thick scent of cheap booze on him, making Grian’s nose wrinkle. Hands on his chest as the tipsy man kissed his neck, hands moving down.
“No Rich.” Grian said shoving his hands away, he wasn’t about to have sex in front of the others.
Richard huffed in annoyance, “Come on darling,” he grumbled, “The others wouldn’t mind at all, if you’re so upset about them watching we can head upstairs.” he told him.
Grian wrinkled up his nose, “no Richard,” more firmly than the last one, “I don’t want to, end of story.”
The other didn’t seem pleased with that, but puffed out breath letting go and getting off Grian all together. Heading back to the table, “Whatever man, come on, at least play some games.” he grumbled. Grian made a face but sighed walking over, he didn’t notice the dark glare Scar was getting Richard the whole time. 
“Seven minuets in Heaven is the name of the game.” one of the others snicker, Grian didn’t bother remembering the name. “Might help loosen up some people.” he joked, and Grian held back a glare.
“Rules are simple,” a bottle was placed on the table, “Spin the bottle, and who it lands on on your turn you go into the closet with for 7 minuets.”
Yeah, Grian knew the rules, he placed the game once before in highschool. that was how he met his friends, he and Tango ended up in the closet. Tango then confessed to him his feelings for Jimmy, and wanted Grian to play wing man. To which Grian also dragged Scar into the mess, but hey it worked, they were still happily together. Might have ended with Jimmy getting a bloody nose due to a plan gone wrong, but it still worked. 
He really is now wishing he went over to their house again. Why did he stay with Richard? Part of him guessed it was desperation. Though this was only the 4th date, the guy had been showing red flag after red flag. After tonight it was over, Grian honestly was done play this game. The man rarely respected his boundries.
He remembered venting to Scar about how Richard had tried to get his hands down his pants during the previews of the movies their last date. Richard had apologized, and promised to wait... well we see how that’s turning out. Asshole really just wanted to fuck like rabbits. 
Grian was all for sexual intimacy and a good fuck, but he also liked the romantic aspect of things. Was he weird for just liking a good make out session? Just cuddling in the night with no need for a build up? Honestly... he wished he could find guys like Scar. 
Problem was Grian was certain Scar was straight, and he didn’t want to impose on their friendship or make things awkward. Honestly he was afraid if they did date, and eventually break up, it’d be too odd to keep a friendship. He didn’t want to lose Scar as a friend, the other was also so caring, comforting, and had helped Grian through alot of issues in his life.
He snapped back into reality when Scar offered to go first. The ever present friendly smile on his face, spinning the bottle easily. Grian felt the others eyeing Scar up with drunken lust. Honestly made his skin crawl, even if Scar didn’t seem to notice or care. 
The bottle landed on Richard as some were laughing, “What are the odds the friend would end up in the closet with the boyfriend.” one heckled, Grian shrugged at Scar, he trusted the guy not to do anything. 
Scar wasn’t the type to cheat, given how he saw it hurt Grian last time.
Scar shrugged back, “Be back G.” he said cheerfully as he walked with Richard to the closet. The fact Richard didn’t protest said alot... You know what fuck it, he excused himself to the bathroom once the closet door closed. Ignoring the jeers form the 3 other men. 
He made sure to lock the door... unease in his stomach.
Picking up his cellphone he dialed Jimmy’s number and sat down on the cold floor waiting. The phone rang a few times, before it picked up, “Hey Grian!” a cheerful voice said as he could hear voices in the back of laughing and chatting. “Be right back guys, Ren don’t steal my cards.” he said and Grian had no doubt Jimmy with giving the ‘I’m watching you’ look to Ren.
“What’s up man, hows your night?” Jimmy asked him, voice as happy as ever, honestly the familiar tone made Grian relax a bit.
“Not to well.” Grian grumbled with a heavy sigh, “Jimmy, mind if me and Scar come on over? I don’t want to stay here any longer.” he asked in a smaller tone. His brown eyes staring at the ground.
A pause, “Sure G, need me to pick you up?” Jimmy asked, tone slightly worried and more serious, “Ren will no doubt come also if you feel you need him?” he suggested.
A faint smile tugged at Grian’s lips, Ren was a body builder, Richard was scared shitless of him even if he talked a big game. “Nah man, it’s just... Richard is an ass and I really don’t want to stay with him. I also don’t wanna go home tonight, just want some friends.” he admits, his voice did breka at the end. The night had been rough, and Grian was holding back tears of frustration.
“Yeah sure, tell you what, I’ll pay pal you some money, get all of us some comfort food. We’ll play cards against humanity and watch some Scooby doo tonight. You and Scar are more than welcome to stay a feww nights.” Jimmy suggested as Grian gavea  weak laugh and smile.
Sniffling a bit he made a sound of agreement, “I’ll get some pizza for the oven and ice cream then.” he suggested. “And yes I’ll get Bdubs favorite, need to keep the gremlin pleased.” he joked lightly feeling a big better when Jimmy laughed also.
“Sounds like a great time, see you in 2 hours then G, I’ll let the others know.” Jimmy promised, “We’ll be here, promise.” warmth filled he at the words as he muttered a thanks and bye. Hanging up Grian laid his head back on the wall, he felt a bit better.
Honestly he was happy to have friends like these guys, sure each one of them was in their own form of weird relationship, but none of them pressured Grian to do anything. Scar approved of each of them, though had jokingly said if any of them hurt Grian he’d hurt them. As if any of them would, Grian took some breaths to calm down, he didn’t want to walk outside looking like he’d been crying.
Meanwhile, as Grian had went to the bathroom to call Jimmy, Scar looked at Richard who was grinning down at him.
“You know your small friend is quiet the tightest cunt I’ve ever met.” Richard grumbled, “Wonder if you are?” he purred in a slurred tone. “I’ll admit you’ve got quiet the abs on you.”
Scar snorted some laughter, “I try to at least work out, makes the job easier.” he said leaning closer to Richard who was grinning at that.
“Job?” Richard echoed a bit, hand coming up to ran over Scar’s exposed chest. “Could give a shit less what you do man, I need a fix, and frankly Grian isn’t being happy about helping me out.” he scowled a bit, Then turned back to eyeing up Scar and licking his lower lip. 
A deep hum as Richard started to kiss on Scar’s neck a bit, pressing up to him, “I think you’d be interested in it.” his hand moving up Richard’s back, “I’ve never told Grian about it... though that might change soon with you here.”
Richard groaned out a bit as Scar was rubbing up his side then to his back and hair. He was also started to go lower, playing with the belt a bit and-
Sharp pain rushed through Richard’s backside, as Scar was grinning at him. Warmth ran down his back as something was yanked out. Richard stumbled back a bit as he looked at the other. Pale mask with a sinister smile looked back. In Scar’s hand was a knife, red with blood now that dripped onto the floor. “It’s not much of a job, but it works.” Scar growled, Richard tried to struggle, in his drunken haze. Though aware, his body wasn’t really wanting to work. Adrenalin trying to kick in as Scar started to stab him, covering his mouth to keep him from crying out for help.
Grian came into the room as he heard loud bangs from the closet, the other 3 had also started to notice. “Scar?’ Grian said as he went over and the door opened. He stared at Scar stepped out of the closet.
“Well he’s dead.” Scar said calmly, as Grian stared, the other was covered in blood, holding loosely in his hands a bloody knife. He was also wearing a strange mask, it was blue with white streaks and a even fanged smile.
One of the others said, “Scar that’s not funny man.” he said getting up a bit stumbly on his feet.
Scar smirked slightly, “I think it’s quiet funny.” he commented with a grin at them, “Not like anyone will miss him.”
Grian walked past Scar and over to the closet, and stared in shock at the blood running out of Richard, his eyes widen with horror, blood on his mouth and all over his chest and back. Bleeding out onto the floors, he bent down slowly and placed a hand on him shoving the guy and checking him. “He’s... he’s dead... like really dead!” he said in a higher pitched voice.
As soon as he said this, Scar moved, grabbing Kyle, the more skinny guy and slicing open his throat. “HOLY SHIT!” Mike yelled out as Kyle fell over gagging and sputtering on blood as he convulsed on the floor in pain. Possibly unable to breath as the blood filled his mouth and lungs.
Nick tried to rush at Scar, only to be over powered easily, Grian has seen Scar working out. He could easily take on Nick, who clearly was a twig from possibly doing drugs. Scar laughed  as stabbed Nick in the chest, the other struggling. Mike came to his senses and went to help, Scar looked at him and grinned as he shoved Nick into Mike. Making them both stumble.
He went over and stabbed Nick in the back a few times as the other’s weight held down Mike. He was trying to get up, calling out for help, calling out Grian’s name. Too call the cops, to do something. 
Grian felt numb though as he watched Scar toss aside Nick, and get on top of Mike, who was trying to hold back the knife from his neck. A small giggle escaping Scar’s mouth as he pushed down hard.
He watched in horror and shock as the knife buried itself into Mike’s windpipe, and he listened to the gurgling cry of pain from the guy. Scar stabbed him a few more times, once through the eye for good measure, then took a deep breath once Mike’s body went still and his gasping stopped. 
Scar stood up and looked over at Grian, then crazed look softening, “Oh.. G... you weren’t suppose to find out this early.” he whispered softly, walking over to Grian pressed up to the wall, a few feet away from Richard’s body. He was trembling as Scar closed in on him.
“Shhh,” Scar whispered, bending down to him as he petted over Grian’s cheek with bloody fingers. Lifting the blue mask with the smile away from his face. “Just breath for me my Desert Flower.” he cooed, as Grian stared at him. His heart was racing, Scar was covered in his... currently dead X’s blood and his friends.
Grian licked his lower lip, he really couldn’t be finding this hot!? He just watched Scar murder people, easily holding them down without any effort, and slicing them open, he was covered in blood! Scar shushed him again, “You know G, I’ve always liked you... I just couldn’t stand seeing that nasty piece of work there push you past your comfort zone.” he near snarled, “He tried to fuck me in that closet when I stabbed him you know, he had no respect for you whatso ever... Gosh the others were all betting on when I’d kill them for you.”
Blinking a few times Grian swallowed, “Others?” he asked Scar in a croaking tone.
A smile, soft, sweet, gentle, “Jimmy was more than tempted to come here to help me hold Richard down.” he spat Richard's name. “He didn’t like how he made you feel, and after you helped him win over Tango he feels responsible for helping you back.”
That sent Grian’s mind reeling, “What... Jimmy... is...?’ he wasn’t sure how to form a sentence right now, trying to process what Scar was saying. 
“Some call us a cult, but we aren’t... we find someone was love more than anything, we’d kill for them. Vexes is what they call us, know you’ve heard of us deary.” Scar whispered to him, hands petting Grian’s hair, leaving blood running through it. “Never thought I’d find my ‘Soulmate’ but they promised me I would... my little flower.”
The Vexes... Grian knew of them, they were a cult of murderers, the news say they stalked someone for a while that they believe is their ‘mate’ their true mate that these beings called Vexes tell them. Wearing a mask with fanged smiles on them, only one of them had been captured, that was how this cult had been found out. And she killed herself in prison. Now killings popped up now and then...
And Scar was one of them.
Much less finding out Jimmy was also one, did Tango know? Were theri others? Were some his friends? Grian swallowed again, as he stared into Scar’s eyes, they were a deep blueish red now, swirling with bloodlust, he was talking even though Grian could barely make it out over the ringing of his ears.
“I’ll call Jimmy to get him to come help, you don’t have to worry about setting the scene deary, I know how-” he cut off as Grian’s fingers reached out, and brushed over the blood that made it under the mask. Scar stared now, his voice drawing quiet as he watched Grian stare at him. Feeling the warmth of the blood under his fingers, Scar’s faint breathing, and calloused fingers on his own cheek.
Then as quick as ever Grian rushed forward pressing his lips to Scar’s own. The knife did clatter to the floor as Grian was on top of Scar, gripping the other’s hair as he pulled back only for seconds to breath between each kiss. Scar then pulled off and started to bite at Grian’s neck. 
“o-Ow.” Grian said lightly as teeth made contact, pressing against Scar.
Scar pulled back, “You okay?” he asked as Grian nodded to him, pushing him down to keep going. Somehow Grian had ended up on the floor with Scar on top of him, biting at his neck and leaving hickeys as he did so. Grian letting out small gasps of pain and Scar making sure he’s okay between the ones that hurt. 
After a while of this Grian was panting a bit, looking at Scar, fuck he wanted to continue but, “I think we need to wait to keep going once this is taken care of.” he breathed out, some blood in his hair as Richard’s blood hand been pooling to them and was now sticking to his hair and red sweater. 
He was also covered in blood from Scar’s hands on his body and face. Scar looked down at him and grinned widely, “as much as I’d love to fuck you in a puddle of blood, you’re right, messes to clean up.” he bent down and gently pressed a kiss to Grian’s forehead. “You look beautiful covered in blood my songbird.” he mumbled to him then pressed another kiss to him.
After a moment of just staring at each other Scar did let Grian stand up, “I had called Jimmy a few minuets ago, he wanted us to pick up pizzas and ice cream after I told him what happened tonight.” he said sheepishly.
Scar chuckled with a fond smile, “Good thing I pack extra clothing, I’ll call Cub here to help with the bodies and get you back to their place... Pizza and ice cream sounds lovely for tonight with friends.” 
Grian nodded in agreement as he sat back and waited while Scar called up Cub. Jimmy also showed up with some spare clothing for Grian at his place, stating that blood on his seats was nothing knew, and Tango would be driving him home while he helps Scar and Cub. He also had on a vex mask
. . .
The Drive back was silent for the first half, as Grian shifted, Tango gave him a sheepish smile, “Well... at least we don’t have to keep secrets any longer.” he joked lightly as Grian did give a small laugh at that.
A pause and Tango sighed, “I’ll listen Grian, if you have anything on your mind.” he offered. “I know I was reeling when I found out a few months back.” he offered to his friend
Grian shifted a bit, then groaned, “Tango I just made out with a killer who is also my best friend, and he just killed 4 people in front of me.” he hide his face in his hands, and gods he loved every minuet of it. Scar had been forceful, but gentle at the same time. Checking on him through the intense make out session they hand. He had some impressive bruises and bite marks on his neck. “And fuck Tango, he’s in a cult too!”
Tango did laugh a bit at Grian’s reaction, “Well you took it better than I did or even Ren’s last lover... who tried to call the cops on Ren.” he grimaced, honestly Grian wasn’t shocked.  Ren’s last guy was found dead a year back... and it seems Grian now knew why. “Bdubs thought it was cool, so guess there is that. I fainted when I caught Jimmy stabbing my Ex.” he said sheepishly.
The passenger stared at his friend as Tango let out another laugh, “Yeah, woke up in Jimmy’s place as he explained everything. Confessing his love for me over and over, what he’d do for me, the peoples he’s killed for me. Honestly, bit much at first, but it ended in sex so... cant’ say your reaction was any better than mine.” he joked.
A pause as Grian looked back out the window, “Never would have guessed.” he commented casually.
“Dude same.” Tango laughed, “Like Cubby being in a cult? That submissive boy?” he grinned as Grian laughed also. “But Jimmy explained a bit, Vexes are supposedly a creature they give Blood and Sex to in return for powers. Not sure how true it is, but he fully believes his life became better. The same he joined he met you, and I suddenly asked you for help in confessing my love to him.
“Jimmy is fully convinced this, and frankly I’m in too deep to do anything against him... not that I’d want to, I love him too much.” Tango sighed heavily, and looked over at Grian for a moment, “I promise G, you’re not alone in this.”
They started to pull up to the house as Tango parked the car, “Come on, Ren and Bdubs are inside and got you a hot bath ran. Take all the time you need, we can talk more once you get out... Scar and them might be a while as they’re also gonna pick up the food.”
Nodding, Grian got out with Tango to get this blood off him, it was starting to harden and flake. And a hot bath sounded great, even if his neck and collar bone felt tender. He was thankful that Ren just greeted him like normal sitting on the couch with Bdubs, they seemed to have paused their card game. 
Grian left to the bathroom while Tango told the two he was taking it slow. He had alot to think about, licking his swollen lips. For a moment he tasted the blood on them, thinking back to Scar on top of him, biting down into his neck.
He took a deep breath... he’d have alot of questions for that idiot when he got back.
-
This took on a life of it’s own, and honestly kind of want to do more with his idea. Going into more stories of the Vex Cult of Killers. Maybe something a bit more NSFW with Scar and Grian. Cub pretty much flirts with everyone in the friend group, confident whore, we love him. Most make Tango a vex, but I decided to spice it up and make it Jimmy this time.
Spelling errors and grammar can’t be bothered right now, I’m too tired to care and it is 8am.
You guys want more, just let me know.
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mutual-monsters · 1 year
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oh, the things that you do in the name of what you love
Pairing: soft!dark!Richie Kirsch x gn!florist!reader
TW: dark/yandere themes, stalking, possesiveness, drugging, kidnapping, forced intimacy, pet names, mentions of masturbation (m), Richie is a creeper
MINORS DNI !!! 🔞
Word count: 964
A/N: Requested by @ouijaboardemo a year ago as a sort of ‘unofficial sequel’ to this. I completely forgot about it until a week ago, and now it’s here. A lot of it is based on a convo I had with Carrie, so maybe follow it if you like brilliant ideas 😏
Title is from this song.
Also, again, because this is like my 20th yandere fic in a row, please know that I’m not condoning this. I’m just a guy who sits a computer and writes fanfiction.
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Modesto wasn’t a small city, to say the least. It was quite easy to get lost in if you didn’t know where you were going, and for the most part, it kept you feeling like fresh faces were always within your reach. Working at a flower shop also helped, as you met all sorts of clientele whilst behind the counter. 
In the beginning, Richie had come into the shop a few times, always leaving generous tips in the jar and always chatting extensively with you about what exactly to buy. His job was at the bowling alley next door, though he spent his breaks watching you, carefully memorizing your mannerisms and photographing you from a distance. He’d spend a shift working, and follow you home, taking only a few hours to himself before starting it all over again the next day. 
However, it didn’t take long for him to start craving more. Once or twice a week, he’d unlatch one of the locks on your windows, and sneak inside. The first few times, he just looked around, content with jerking himself off to the very smell of you before leaving. After that, though, he started to snag small things, stuff he was sure you wouldn’t miss; some hair from your brush, a piece of jewelry or two, and, eventually, when he found himself desperate enough, a toothbrush from your trashcan. He found himself repulsed by his own actions, but nothing could satiate the hunger. 
He needed you. 
He started coming into your shop more often, chatting you up, flirting, anything he could to be closer to you. He had to see you. He’d bring you coffee before work, line his lunch up with yours, whatever it took. He knew it wouldn’t take long before he was craving more, and it scared him. And, when he was right, he knew what it had come to.  He knew it was wrong as he called in sick to work. He knew it was wrong as he climbed in through your window, still unlocked from the last time he was there (and he noted to himself, that maybe he was doing you a favor). He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself from placing a rag soaked in chloroform over your mouth as you walked into your bedroom that night, shushing you to sleep and gently petting your hair before tying you up to put in his car. And then, as he had resigned, didn’t want to stop himself from packing your bags, and driving away with you.
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The world came in and out, hazy in the back of Richie’s Prius. It didn’t register to you then as you fought the drugs in your system– you were too out of it. You just let the feeling of the car and the faint sound of Billy Joel lull you back into sleep.
It was the sound of the chain that woke you up. You had tried to roll over, causing a rattling, metallic sound, awakening you from your slumber. The room was relatively nice– small, but furnished minimilistically. Once again, you tried to move your leg, resulting in the same loud clanging as before, only this time, you saw the cause;  a leather strap around your ankle attached to the floor with a thick metal chain. A quick scan of the room provided the culprit.
“Richie?” You croak, still under the effects of whatever he had given you to keep you sedated.
He looks up from his comic, and a spark ignites in his eyes. 
“Oh, hey, bunny! I’m so glad you’re up!” He exclaims, rushing to your side, beyond eager.
“Richie, I don’t think I under–”
“It’s okay! You don’t have to understand right now!” He says, placing himself on the bed next to you, and holding your hand. “The thing is, I love you. I need you. You’re like– well, to me, you’re like air. I don’t think I could go on without you. So, I brought you here. Somewhere where I could take care of you. Somewhere where you’d be safe.” 
He keeps one hand on your back, rubbing circles to sooth you. He knows the realization is hitting you, he knows how scared you must be, and it kills him. 
“I don’t understand, Richie. I can protect myself just fine, I mean–”
“No. No, you can’t protect yourself. I’m the one who does it. Do you have any idea the amount of times I’ve saved you from being mugged? Do you have any idea the amount of times I’ve chased off people trying to hurt you? I mean, for fuck’s sake, you don't even check the locks on your windows!”
Once again, the wave of realization hits you. You feel like vomiting. He speaks up again. 
“But, it’s a good thing you have me, huh?” He slides in a little closer, and presses his lips to your forehead.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry! I brought all of your favorite movies! Well, actually, they’re my favorite movies, but you’ll come around to them eventually!” He says, a giant smile forming on his lips. 
He pulls a remote from the side table and presses the ON button, scrolling until he reaches Stab on Netflix. 
“Here, let me hold you, the opening’s kinda intense.”
And you do. 
The shock wears off in time. Eventually, he lets you off the chain, content that the coded locks on all the exterior doors will detour you from escaping, and even if you did, you know deep inside he’d hunt you down. Maybe one day he’ll take you out on a long car ride; Maybe you’ll even go see a movie, but not until he’s sure you’re mind is broken enough to do so. 
Let’s hope you like the Stab franchise.
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sunflowerxthoughts · 10 months
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Dealer Jamie and Sirius, who fucks reader in exchange of drugs. Oh, what a cutie the girl she is, so lost and dumb on a cocaine line and doesn't even realize she's out of panties and her skirt is up.
DEALER SIRIUS OH MY GOD
You know it’s the deal, you get the goods and he gets pussy. And he has this new sort of coke he just got and if the usual hits you like a train this one has you floating so much you don’t even notice Sirius has made you cum several times already.
“Already fucked dumb, puppy?”
“Huh?”
“Look at you, is the powder making you feel good?”
“So good Siri.”
“Or was it me?”
“You always you.”
He chuckles because you’ve been gone before but now you just want to please him and he loves it.
“You gonna let me cum inside you? Huh?”
“Wherever you want Siri. M’yours.”
By the time he is inside you you are clenching like crazy because you are feeling so many things, and all so good.
“Fuuuuck puppy if you keep squeezing like that I’m gonna cum like I did when I was sixteen.”
You just moan because you don’t have a single coherent thought going on in your head. And he loves it.
“You look great like this puppy, my dumb good girl.”
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dancingisdangerouss · 2 years
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Heyoo, hope you're doing well!
This is a dexter morgan x fem!reader request!
Consider this, established relationship, hot smut.
That's it.
(I am starved for dexter morgan fics)
So I definitely think Dexter would 100% be into bloodplay, and hope you don't mind that I went in that direction! With his obsession with it and keeping blood trophies from his victims, it just makes sense to me.
Summary: Reader does not know her boyfriend is a serial killer, but she does discover that he has a thing for blood, and suggests they bring it into the bedroom...
Warnings: Blood/bloodplay, slight ignoring of safe words, dark content, sexual content. Dexter is a serial killer and has been known to be unfeeling for the most part, and unable to control himself at times. Read at your own discretion.
“Fuck!”
You winced and dropped the paring knife, which clattered into the sink. Vinaceous blood rose to the surface, pooling in the palm of your hand. You set aside the potato on the cutting board, cursing yourself for such a clumsy slip.
“Y/N?” Dexter called from the living room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, no worries, it’s just a small cut. I think,” you hollered back, turning the faucet to the cold setting. 
Just as you eased the handle up to start the water, Dexter materialized at your side, catching your hand in his.
“Oh! Hi, babe. You scared me,” you laughed as he drew your hand closer to himself, scrutinizing the wound.
As your eyes lifted to his, a shiver spiraled down your spine. An eerie shadow had crept over his eyes, an almost hungry glint present there as he lightly squeezed your hand, watching the fresh beads of blood dribble out. You cringed.
“Dexter?”
The blood spatter analyst drew your hand up to his mouth. His tongue flicked out to lap against the slice, slowly collecting the blood as it darted across the open wound. His warm saliva stung your skin.
“Dexter! What the fuck—?”
Dexter withdrew and met your gaze, startled, as though he were just now really looking at you. That corybantic shade lifted from his eyes. 
“Shit! Sorry, Y/N, let me—” He hastily turned on the faucet, thrusting your hand beneath the cool stream. His broad shoulders shook with a nervous laugh. “I was just messin’ with you. You should’ve seen your face, it was adorable.”
You weren’t buying it. Grinning knowingly, you shut off the faucet, your hands running up and over his chest to link around his neck. “Well damn, Dex. I knew you were into blood in the streets, but I didn’t realize you liked it in the sheets.”
The poorly-hidden panic in Dexter’s face quelled. “Sorry?”
“There’s no shame in a blood kink, babe,” you reassured him with a wink. “You should’ve just told me! We need to be honest with each other if you want this relationship to work.” 
“Oh…” Dexter’s lip quirked, relief tinging his expression. It was so cute, how he seemed to think he could hide things from you. To everyone else, Dexter was an unknown—a strange, unreadable man with blank pages inside. But you’d known him long enough to pick up on his emotions. There was nothing he could hide from you.
“Sooo…” You released him, fishing a clean paring knife out of the wooden knives block. “What say you? Wanna put dinner off a bit? Maybe…” you stroked the blunt end of the knife along Dexter’s collarbone and he stiffened, “we can explore this a little more?”
Dexter’s breaths quickened. “You’d…want to do that?”
“I can’t say yet whether I’m into it or not, but…” You kissed the tip of his nose. “For you? Anything.”
Dexter’s lips crashed into yours so hard, you nearly fell backward. He slid the knife from your hand and tucked it in his back pocket, beginning to lead you carefully toward the bedroom, all the while moving his mouth feverishly with yours. 
You’d never seen him so excited before. Sure, he seemed to enjoy your sex life plenty, but you had yet to see this…animalistic side of your lover. You liked it.
Dexter kissed you all the way to the bed, only momentarily parting from you to root around in his closet for something. A shuffle of clothing and boxes later, he withdrew with a large plastic sheet in his arms.
“Well isn’t that convenient?” you teased as he spread the tarp out across the bed. “You’ve been wanting to do this for a while, haven’t you?”
Dexter chuckled, lifting you effortlessly onto the mattress as if you were made of nothing more than styrofoam. “Why else would I have giant sheets of plastic in my closet?”
Crawling atop you, he made quick work of his own shirt and belt, unzipping his pants but not yet removing them.
“You got a safe word in mind?” he asked as he retrieved the knife from his jeans.
You stared at the ceiling fan thoughtfully. “Fava beans.”
Dexter wrinkled his nose at that. “Is that a Silence of the Lambs reference?”
“Yup.”
“Isn’t that a little…morbid for this?”
You giggled, pulling him to you for another kiss. “Not when you’ve got a morbid boyfriend.”
Dexter smirked. “Fava beans it is. Quick question: How attached to that dress are you?”
“Huh?” You looked down at your handsome green sundress, which you had picked up years ago at a second-hand shop. You liked it, but it wasn’t anything special to you. “Not…not a whole lot. Why?”
With a feral grin, Dexter nudged the sharp side of the blade between your breasts, cutting a slow split down the fabric from cleavage to navel. His large hands slipped beneath the dress, ripping the last parts of the seam open to the bottom, fully exposing your undergarments.
“Ahh, okay, I can dig it,” you purred, wiggling as he began to peel your panties off. 
He had the decency to at least remove your bra and panties by hand, tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder before bringing the knife back into play. He very carefully and meticulously drew the blade along your exposed throat, tickling the skin teasingly. Dragging it down your neck, he chose a spot at your collarbone, easing the knife into your flesh just enough to let a thin line of crimson follow in its tracks.
You shivered, wincing. The knife froze in place.
“Fava beans?”
You shook your head. “Trust me, Dex. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. He ran an index finger gently along the new break in your skin, smearing the blood like red fingerpaint in little circles. You had a grotesque fascination with the look on his face as he did so, his wild eyes burning like hot coals as he leaned in to dab his tongue along the streaks.
You groaned against him and his hips bucked lightly into yours, that telltale hardness scraping at your core. The knife made its way down to your belly, nipping deeper into the skin than before as he allowed more blood to bubble up to the surface. He sighed contentedly at it.
Dexter’s fingers tucked into his jeans, yanking them down the rest of the way. He kicked them off, his boxers following suit before he re-planted himself over you, pumping his length while he sucked and licked across your bloodied stomach, groaning lustfully at the taste.
He flipped you onto your back, pulling your hips up to his as he ground against your ass, the firm head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You whined, wiggling encouragingly as he circled his hard erection around your weeping slit. 
“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into the bedsheets.
His cock breached your welcoming walls, fully plunging into you in one hard, quick thrust. You both moaned in unison at the intrusion, and his teeth raked across your shoulder.
Dexter began a slow rhythm, thrusting fully in and out each time in long strokes. All the while he continued to indulge himself with the knife, leaving thin little trails of blood artfully along your back and between your shoulder blades. How he managed to steadily cut you with such precision while simultaneously fucking you from behind, you’d never know.
Between cuts, he occasionally squeezed handfuls of your flesh between his fingers, forcing more blood to rise up and trickle down from the cuts. He licked all over the punctures as he continued to strike his hips against yours, teeth even nipping at the edges of the open wounds.
Heavy panting escalated alongside harder thrusts, and he groaned throatily as he dug the knife into a spot near your upper back, piercing deeper than before.
“Dex…” Your eyes fluttered open, the pain beginning to overwhelm the pleasure. “That’s a bit much, babe.”
But Dexter continued to thrust with reckless abandon, grunting and panting as he forced the knife deeper in time with his thrusting, his eyes rolling back. You couldn’t see his face, but you almost felt the shift in the air, the change in his movements as he pummeled you. 
“Ah! Fava beans,” you whimpered, unable to handle it anymore.
Dexter said nothing verbal, still moaning deeply as he rammed into you, the knife now feeling like it was tearing through cartilage. It was almost like he had tapped into some other place inside of himself, and couldn’t even hear your cries.
“Fuck! Dexter! Fava beans, fava beans!”
As if breaking out of a hypnotic state, Dexter suddenly ripped the knife from your shoulder. Blood and cum gushed forth from flesh and cock as Dexter came hard, yelling out your name as he held himself still, hips rocking throughout his powerful orgasm.
The knife clattered to the ground and you fell forward as he released you, gasping for breath. Having snapped out of his reverie, Dexter pulled his soft cock from between your nether lips and scrambled off the bed, rushing to your side. 
“Y/N! Shit, I didn’t mean to—” He frantically grabbed his shirt off the floor, pressing it to the gaping wound on your back. “Shit. Are you all right? Don’t worry, I can stop the bleeding, it’s not deep enough for stitches or anything. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize…” 
“Clearly we need a new safeword,” you grumbled, sitting up on your hands and knees as he held the t-shirt firmly in place. “I mean, fuck, Dex, it’s almost like you’ve stabbed someone before.”
You never noticed the guilt-ridden look on his face.
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eosincuffs · 3 months
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TW DARK CONTENT! TW NON-CON/DUB-CON!
Part 1
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