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fushitoru · 9 months ago

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finish her! a toji fushiguro oneshot

pairing ⸺ wrestler!toji x reader

summary ⸺ you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) creds to @/reynisxxsimart on twitter for art!

warnings ⸺ nasty, NASTY smut, VERY public sex, WWE but pornhub edition, you’re a wrestler fighting toji, so some violence but nothing graphic, fem!reader, HUMILIATION, degradation, you're literally fucked in an arena of people, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (f! recieving), boobplay, very inaccurate depiction of wrestling/WWE, not edited we die like toji

a/n im going to sit in the corner and think about what i just wrote

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

the muffled sounds of the crowd’s deafening roar seem to swirl in the space around you, each cheer vibrating through your chest like distant thunder. you take a long, cool sip of water, a welcome contrast to the warm air backstage. lounging back, you let the chair support your weight, your muscles still humming with the residual tension of anticipation. utahime’s fingers work into your shoulders, and her voice filters through the buzzing atmosphere, calm and steady as she gives you a rundown of the night ahead, though her words seem to blur slightly at the edges—just background noise to the constant hum of adrenaline.

“in front of a crowd—do you understand? and the rules are no fucking, unless all clothes are off first.”

“right,” you affirm, albeit hesitantly. you’re feeling a bit jitterish in anticipation of what’s to happen, despite having trained months to hone your ability as a wrestler. look, wwe itself can get really suggestive at times, with people giving wedgies, removing certain articles of clothing, or even letting the crowd cop a feel of the defeated to serve as humiliation. not only does it improve publicity, but it also increases viewership of all the horny bastards on the internet to circle the televised clip around in their subreddits or discord servers.

but what you were going to do today—that was a bit…extreme. it was like bridging the gap between soft core and hard core, with the humiliation turned up to a hundred. because today, you were going to wrestle the man that all female–and male–wrestlers could even dream of having their hands on, even if for a slight moment.

toji fushiguro.

a man of impressive build—entering a ring with him only meant defeat. he’s had numerous career wins, far exceeding any other. hell, you shouldn’t even be matched to wrestle with him today; he outweighs and outranks you by far. the only thing you really have running for you is the sheer amount of fans you have, ready to tune in to your fights and edit your moves and time spent in the fighting ring to songs like “chun li” and “maneater.” so, sure, you don’t exactly anticipate a win today in that stadium that’s waiting for you, but you’re no less of a wrestler in your own right. you won’t go down without a fight.

however, today was no normal fight. the wwe had suddenly decided that their viewership was too low, that extreme measures needed to be taken to boost. so, ironically enough they had decided to change the rules just before your momentous match:

all wrestlers must consent to having all and any articles of clothing removed from their person, particularly for sexual intercourse as a reward for the winner.

so, WWE (Pornhub’s Version) (In The Vault).

and your luck dictated that this paradigm shift for the organization occur just before your most anticipated match with toji. again, you knew that no amount of training could prevent you from getting utterly humiliated, but it was almost like the gods were laughing down on you, eager to rub in your impending defeat once more. because you were going to get your shit fucked up—-literally.

“it’s going to be fine,” utahime assures you, and you snap back to the present from your thoughts at the sound of her voice. “just think about the publicity this’ll get you! not that you don’t have any fans of yourself, but there are going to be a lot of people tuned in because of fushiguro.”

you take an inhale in and nod. “yea, that’s true. i just want to get it over with.”

as if answering your prayers, gojo satoru, the mc, burst into your dressing room. “it’s your time to shine, buttercup!” he grins, ushering you out the door. albeit a bit nervously, you stand up and make your way into the hallway that leads directly into the middle of the arena. “you’re going to do great!”

as soon as you walk closer and closer to the arena, the screams get louder and louder, the music booming and causing the floor under you to vibrate. the sounds of people surround all your senses, wrapping you up and causing your heartbeat to go faster and faster.

reaching the end of the hallway, the arena is filled with light, and you have to blink to get a hold of your sight. surrounding the center boxing ring are stands upon stands of people, hustling and bustling. at the sight of you, cameramen stationed around in various spots through the arena furiously angle their cameras towards you. not only are journalists and the media snapping pictures, blinding you with the flash, but you see yourself displayed on the big screens visible to everyone in the arena. you smile and wave, causing your fans to scream as they register that you have walked in.

then, a realization washes over you. these are the same screens that are going to be projected whatever's going to happen during the fight and when you lose.

oh god.

you walk forward, trying to keep up your smile and wave to all of your fans that outstretched their hands, trying to cop a feel and/or get a high five. most of your fans are male (to no one's surprise), and you can feel their eyes roving over you appreciatively, taking in your outfit. it was simple and tight; shorts that just barely covered your ass and was snug around your hips, and a low cut top that couldn't even be called a top. your cleavage was on full display, and the top stopped just below your waist. typically, this is your wrestling attire you wear to a normal match, but you couldn't help but wryly notice that today, your neckline was cut lower than usual. the wwe was really trying to milk this, huh?

you stood just below the boxing ring, eyes anxiously scanning the arena, unconsciously searching for the man you were set to fight. but no matter how hard you looked, you couldn't spot his tall, muscular figure either in the ring or in the seat he was supposed to occupy with his manager.

a light tap on your shoulder startled you, and you turned to find utahime behind you, a concerned look on her face. "everything alright?"

"yeah," you said, waving her off with a forced smile. "but where is he?"

utahime pointed toward the boxing ring, and then you saw it—a glimpse of black hair.

"alright," you said, swallowing nervously. "i'm heading into the ring. wish me luck."

"wait!" utahime called out, but you were already too far to hear her. gripping the ropes at the edge of the ring, you hauled yourself up and strode toward the center, determined to get a better view. and there, just on the far side of the ring, hidden from your previous angle, was toji fushiguro.

he was lounging back, relaxed, his posture almost lazy as he faced his manager, shiu kong. you couldn’t see toji's face from this angle, but his body language indicated that he was the epitome of ease. shiu was saying something to him, and from your best attempt at lip reading, you could just make out the words, "don't break the rules today."

toji, on the other hand, didn't seem to be looking at him (giving 0 fucks, something so classically toji), focusing now towards the big screens everyone else saw in the arena. you turned your gaze towards them as well, only to be taken aback when it was you, a compilation of your best moments in the ring, narrated by gojo.

“and today, fellas, we’re going to see the bombshell y/n—the maneater, as coined by her fans—-competing! while her opponent is fushiguro, don’t be fooled—she can pack a mean punch. look at this fight with mei mei; she sweeped the floor with her face!”

satisfied, you looked around, the arena bustling with people getting drinks, being enraptured with your fight on the screen, or pointing at you or toji. toji, on the other hand, was chuckling and shaking his head at your fight, observing as you gave the bitch mei mei a wedgie. which kind of made you flustered, because you had developed a crush on the guy observing him from afar or in passing, so you just focused on shaking out your legs and arms in nervousness.

gojo similarly announced toji’s fights and compilation, gassing him up for the crowd and it was then that toji finally turned around, uninterested in whatever was going on, and caught your eye. you stared back, breath held involuntarily.

his eyes had a predatory glint to them, and he smiled, charmingly in a way that showed off his scar, and they scanned up and down your figure, taking in what you were wearing—or rather, letting his imagination run. nervously, your heart sped up as you clenched your thighs up in anticipation or anxiety, you couldn’t choose which, as your mind began running at the speed of light thinking about what was going to happen today.

today, you weren’t only going to wrestle toji fushiguro. you were going to fuck him.

but you’re jolted out of your thoughts as gojo’s obnoxious voice blares through the speakers. “give it up for thee wwe goat, toji fushiguro!”

screams reach an all time high as his smirk is broadcasted to the audience, biceps bulging and flexing as he heaves his way up on the ring, joining you. he waves lazily, roars at an all time high as he stalks his way to you, and you squeeze your nails into your palm out of nervousness.

when gojo announces your name, the male screams rise up in volume, causing you to giggle and fushiguro to roll his eyes from what you can see in the corner of your eye. you give a dainty wave, choosing to wink and blow a kiss to the camera in front of you, causing your fans to scream even louder.

“you sure got a lotta fanboys, darling.” you jump as toji has now bent down to whisper in your ear, literally sending shivers down your spine.

you force out a laugh. “and you're at no shortage of fangirls yourself, fushiguro.”

he gives you a nonchalant hum, assuming his original position. as gojo continued to yap about the stakes of the round today, the recent rule change, a referee walked over to you both, coming in closer so that you would be able to hear him over the chaos of the arena.

“so, you’re both aware of the rules, right?” he both looked at you, to which you nodded and toji’s smirk widens. “you gotta get the other’s clothes completely off, and the first one to do that wins.”

you gulp, eyeing what toji was wearing today. it was his signature garb, the one he wore to almost every match without fail: grey pants with various sponsorships sewed on, and a black compression shirt. it was definitely very minimal compared to what a lot of the other wrestlers wore, but it was iconic, giving him a lazy, laid back aura that no other wrestler could truly emanate.

it wasn’t anything hard to take off in particular.

both of you affirmed your consent to the referee, who then took a step back after wishing you both good luck. you turned, facing toji face on, who had his hand on his hip. “try to last long, okay?” he smirks, patting your shoulder with his other hand. “i’ll try to drag this out as much as i can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

you glare, but there isn’t much intensity to it because you know he’s much stronger than you. there isn’t much to get angry about. “yea, yea,” you huff. “for all i know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

he barks out a laugh and looks at the referee, who has one hand raised, the other one poised on his whistle, ready to blow and start the round. it’s starting soon. then, he looks back to you and smiles. “let the games begin.”

the referee blows the whistle.

at once, you launch yourself towards toji, trying to jump on him to get him off his feet with your weight. instead, he dodges easily and leaves you hurtling towards the floor, making you poise yourself on your hands and feet upon impact. you roll over just as toji tries to tackle you and pin you against your original position on the floor and quickly get up.

however, as you’re steadying yourself on your feet, toji grabs your ankle, causing you to lose your balance and giving him the advantage to pin himself on top of you, his mouth breathing heavily next to your ear, whispering so it was just the two of you that could hear his words. “what do you think i should take off first?” he laughs deeply, the vibration causing you to shiver and try to squirm to get out of his hold, to no avail. “should it be these?” he snakes his hands down to grope your tits, giving them a firm squeeze, much to the arena’s pleasure. “or should i take these off of you?” he slaps your ass, making you blush furiously.

“fuck you,” you hiss as his hands catch on the edge of your shorts.

he gives you a sweet, small kiss on your temple. “don’t worry, baby,” he smiles. “you’ll be doing that anyways.” and with that, he pulls at your shorts until the waistband’s elastic rips, leaving your shorts in tatters until he throws the remains of it away, baring your panty-covered ass to the crowd, which immediately grows wild.

you crane your neck to look at the screen, which is currently focused on toji’s hands feeling up your ass, dipping inside your underwear to knead the flesh. your heart is pounding, the thought i need to get the upper hand flashing continuously across your mind. it’s almost as if you’re drowning, the noises of the crowd blurring together until it was only you and toji’s weight on you. you barely heard the announcer exclaim, “toji is currently in the lead!” as you focused on calculating your next move.

it was time to pull out all the stops.

turning your head until you were making eye contact with him, you bit your lip, momentarily distracted him with the 180 turn of your actions, now nonchalant rather than the flailing you were doing earlier. then, you raised your hips, meeting your backside with his crotch in an effort to catch him off guard and to make him lose balance. then, you maneuvered yourself so your thighs surround toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. this momentarily distracted and weakened toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. you quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. the whole stadium, in fact, can see his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

smirking while peering down at him, you slowly grind your hips as if you were riding a mechanical bull, making a show of spinning around his shirt with your hand to mock him. toji’s eyes darken, but a mirthless smile flashes across his face anyways. “damn, take me out to dinner first.”

you flash him one of your own humorless smirks, happy that you got at least one thing against him. “i don’t fuck anyone before the first day, honey. this is just another cheap fuck.” with that, you yank his head back with his hair roughly, making a show of motorboating his pecs, as if to mock him.

instead of getting angry, he chuckles darkly. “you’re going to regret that. i was going to drag this out, princess, but i gotta fuck the brat out of you.” with that, he spins you around just as quickly—if not quicker—pinning you against the ground with your hands held above your head in one hand in a vice grip, the other groping its way down your body. he buries his face in your neck, salaciously licking the length of it. with his free hand—now stationed around your tits—he grabs at the hem of your top, pulling it up so everyone could see your lace bra. mockingly, he plants his face in the middle of your tits, moving his head side by side to motorboat you just as you had done to him, the soft plush of your tits encompassing his face.

the crowd cheers, even more so than they had when you had ripped his shirt off, as toji completely rips the top off as you squirm, making the removal even easier for him. you can feel all eyes on you as toji reaches for the clip of your bra, unhooking it and making your tits pop out. helplessly, you look at the screen, your writhing making them move in a jiggling motion, sweat shining and giving you the “oiled-up” look. he takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “what a sensitive girl,” he coos. “too bad she was too weak. now she’s going to have to take my cock.”

with that, he teasingly closes the distance between the waistband of your panties and his teeth, mouth snagging on the elastic. slowly, he drags them down, unveiling your glistening pussy for all eyes to see, and the crowd goes wild, chanting random requests at toji to do the most heinous things to you. as soon as you’re completely naked, he grabs you by the waist, propping you up against one of the corner posts. you’re now standing up, tearfully facing the arena as the wrestler kneels behind you, burying his face and nosing his way until your pussy, lapping up your wetness.

at the unexpected feeling of his tongue, you yelp, and toji slaps your ass. “stay still.” acquiescing, he licks up long stripes and shakes his head to grind his nose into your cunt, pleasuring you while humiliating you in front of everyone, forcing you to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel. while licking you, he groans. “fuck, this pussy is so sweet. i’ve run out of patience, fuck the performance part.”

with that, toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees on the floor and pulls down his pants. you don’t even look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

he drags his cock teasingly through your folds, and then brings it out to slap it against your ass, humming appreciatively at the recoil. then, as if he’s lost patience, he’s slowly entering you, pushing against your pussy’s resistance as he penetrates you in front of the whole arena. “fuck!” he groans, getting a better grip on you as he pushes your head down on the mat and fully goes to pound town.

the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “the fuck this pussy’s so tight for? thought you were a slut?”

you’re tearing up, the feeling of his dick hitting your g-spot straight on making you clench hard, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pummeling you and his hands on your body, feeling you up. clearly, he knew how to pleasure a woman, and it made you all the more annoyed. you were fucked out, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “you’re not turning me on, small dick.”

he did not like that very much.

toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? why is she dripping, you whore?” as if to demonstrate his point, he brings his fingers to rub at your clit furiously, collecting the wetness that had dripped down from your hole then shoving his fingers into your mouth. “suck.” when you did just that, suckling at his fingers while hollowing your hot, wet heat around the appendages.

at that, he groaned. “what a little cockwhore. shoulda made you suck my dick instead.”

in retaliation, you bite his fingers, hard, and then spit them out. “i would’ve bit your micro off.”

toji hisses, grabbing the hair at your scalp and pulling on it until your face was up, his mouth at your ear. “just for that, i’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.” he speeds up, moving his hips faster and fast. the hand that wasn’t at your hair is now sneaking his way down your back, until you gasp.

because he’s inserted his thumb inside your ass.

“oh, ho ho,” he laughs mockingly. “you liked that, didn’t you?” you offer him no response, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of the sheer amount of pressure you were feeling down there, being doubly stuffed. by now, your orgasm has been steadily building because of the sheer power of toji’s stroke game, but as soon as he hits your spot one last time, your eyes roll back, causing you to arch your back and writhe due to the intensity of your orgasm.

you’re breathing heavily, toji fucking you roughly through it. once you’ve gotten a hold of your sense, you come back to reality as you realize that the crowd has adopted a rhythm to their chants, your fans and his screaming the same thing.

cum! cum! cum!

and toji only chortles as he continues your thirst, looking at you once again, and you can tell that he’s staving his orgasm back just after experiencing your clenches with the way he’s biting his lips, sweat running down from his temple to his abs. “what do you say, baby? wanna give the crowd what they’re asking for?”

all it takes is a whimpered please, and toji just does what the crowd asks of him. ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear toji declared as winner.

as you exhaustedly lift your head up, you see that cameras are out all around you, focused on the screen. you’re flustered when you realize the billboard is displaying toji’s cum seeping out of you.

A hand on your shoulder. “you good?” toji’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.

you let out a breath. “yea,” you laugh, out of breath. “good round.”

and he’s huffing, giving you a hand to get on your back. you can only lie on the ground as he barks for clothes to be put on you and for some water. then he turns to look at you once more, eyes twinkling. “wanna go for more in my hotel?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n i was going to have him carry u up near to the stands where your fans could grab at ur titties but this is alr depraved as it is. now im going to take a breather from tumblr for the rest of this week becasue WHEW ch5 gojo yesterday and finished this today i am ON A ROLL. see you guys for next week's kinktober fic (comment if you want to be tagged)! much love<3

reblog and comments are much appreciated!!!!!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk

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juicykvnture · 2 months ago

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MANEATER

Wally West x fem!reader

Wally West x his (completely and 100% normal) vampire!gf ☆ headcannons/drable

tags: fem!reader in mind but it’s not THAT specific, mentions of blood (not graphic), fluff

a/n: yk what hell yeah

Wally West who didn't even notice that he was down bad horrendous for a vampire at first.

He didn't feel your aura of impending doom - or how you only ever left your apartment at night. He just deemed your crimson eyes a unique shade of brown, too distracted by how pretty they looked under your lashes.

Wally West who only put two and two together when he caught you curled up on the couch with a blood bag in hand, your fangs piercing through the plastic like it's a capri-sun.

He was shocked at first, rightly so! Until he thought back to your less than normal tendencies; the weird talismans you wear, the way he often wakes up with you just standing there at the foot of his bed - staring, the way your sharp nails dig into his arms, the way you bite his lip a little too hard when you kiss him.

He stares at you nothing less than bamboozled, his mouth agape as his head tilts to the side before blinking rapidly,

"Huh?? I thought you were just freaky?"

Wally West who gets a little bit jealous when you have the audacity to get your fix from a blood bag. Like, how could you when you have all of him right there?

He's like sulking from the doorway, staring at you,

"Oh, I see. Am I just a common whore, then? Just another concubine of yours?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You glance up from the tv, your tongue darting out for a moment to catch a stray trickle of blood down your chin.

"Nothing! You have fun with your sub-par blood bag, I'm going out for a run!"

Wally West who can't even sit through any sort of vampire movie without him turning to you every two seconds with questions like -

"Wait, do they really do that?" - "Is that lore accurate?" - "You wouldn't do that to me, yeah? Promise?" (He's not entirely sure if he'd be all that offended, though)

When you don't answer that last one he plays it off with a nervous laugh, scratching the side of his neck (as if you can't hear his heart absolutely slamming)

Wally West who just insists on helping you do your makeup, even though you're fully capable of doing it yourself for years.

He claims it's cause you can't see your own reflection in most mirrors, insisting he shows you his handiwork on his phone, (old mirrors have silver, modern phones don’t) sneaking a photo every single time until he's at the point he's got a whole folder of them saved.

It's just an excuse to have you closer, so he can stare at your face for a couple minutes longer in the mornings.

Wally West who randomly pokes at your fangs whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s surprised when you retaliate by giving his fingers a bite. It’s like he’s almost dissatisfied with the fact he doesn't have cool teeth for whatever reason.

Your glare snaps him out of it sometimes, resulting in a stupid grin stretching across his face,

"What? You wouldn't tear up the light of your life!"

Wally West who is now determined to become an expert on bloodsuckers like you (bless him), asking you the most cliche shit he can think of, especially when he's all dizzy after you drain him a little.

"Do you sleep in a coffin?" He pipes up, staring up at the ceiling he's asking you about the weather or what you want for breakfast.

"No, Wally. I don't."

"You sure? Cause I can get one."

Similarly,

"You know, I have like zero problem hanging the bed upside down on the ceiling if it makes you sleep better,"

"Wally, it's fine. I can sleep like a normal person." You stare at him, wiping his blood from the corner of your lips.

"You sure? I have a drill and some rope, somewhere."

Wally West who's gotten used to you sleepily gnawing at his neck or wrist sometimes - to the point that he's actually kinda sad when you fall asleep, not pulling your face away from him unless he absolutely has to get up and do something. It's weird, but he just likes being close to you, even as a walking blood bag.

Wally West who swears on his life that he's 100% fine and not lightheaded when you forget yourself and go a little too far, shaking his head weakly when you start to ramble apologetically, already halfway to the kitchen for bandaids and iron supplements.

"No, no.. come back. It's fine." He insists.

You're not convinced, staring at his head slumped against your shoulder, carefully tilting his head up to make sure his eyes are still open.

"M'sorry."

His only response is to try shake his head, his lips curling into a dazed smile despite the fact his head is spinning.

"No, it's totallyyy fine.. you could like stab me and l'd be like it's okay. cause you're my hot girlfriend."

You're just starting at him now, he's definitely fucked up cause of blood loss.

You're shifting around on the bed, tucking a stack of pillows under his head with a soft frown, his fingers loosely tugging at your wrist so you don't pull away.

You know that any sort of lecture from you would land on deaf ears.

He truly insists that he can walk (well, run) off any and all kind of injury or affliction. He doesn't really seem to be able to comprehend the fact that losing a gallon of blood isn't the same as any run of the mill kind of scratch.

"M'fine, m'the fuckin' flash, know? My hearts like wayyyy better than a regular guys."

"Is it?" You sigh, gently stroking your fingers through his messy read hair.

"Duh? it's yours."

a/n: see! I promise I’m capable of joy and whimsy sometimes..

#Wally west nation HELLO #dc x reader #wally west #dc comics #wally west x reader #wally west x y/n #wally west x you #drabble #dc drabble #dc headcanon #the flash #the flash x reader #Wally west x female reader #vampire!reader #vampire!au #dc fluff #x reader #Spotify

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evolnoomym · 10 months ago

Text

I’ll Make You Love Me💋

Bfd!Joel Miller x F!OC Lucky

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: In Joel’s eyes you are an unpleasant person. Yet he has to pretend as if he would not want to get rid of you for Sarah’s sake, she loves you so much you are her best friend. Well Joel also feels terrible for the rather unethical thoughts he has of you.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni !!!!!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: no y/n, introducing “Lucky”, female oc character, Sarah is 18, Lucky is 21, Joel’s age is not mentioned but he’s at least double Lucky’s age, degradation, humiliation, Dark, Joel is mean, he calls you Bitch/Slut/Junkie, spanking, dub-con, Daddy Kink, Manspreading hehe 😉, pervy!Joel, tears, Joel enjoys her tears, manhandling, hair pulling, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, a tiny fluffy moment, alludes to BJ, Joel can also be nice,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @toxicanonymity ‘s manspreading olympics. ❤️‍🔥

Shoutout to @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

Big thank you to @jennaispunk and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading ❤️‍🔥🌙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 💋

Songs I listened to while writing:

What You Do by James Gillespie

Bad Girls by M.I.A

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey

Waiting Game by BANKS

Into It by Chase Atlantic

You should feel bad for thinking of him in such a peculiar way. You should be ashamed for even considering him an option. He is totally off limits considering he’s much older, a busy mature man and most importantly Sarah’s Dad. Sarah the sweet girl that has been your Bestfriend for over 2 years.

It excited you in the beginning how much Joel hated your presence in his daughter’s life. He didn’t approve of this friendship ever since Sarah at 16 years old first brought you, her 19 year old friend, over for the first time.

In front of Sarah he tried his hardest to appear polite but you could see right through his facade from the beginning. And one evening when Sarah was already fast asleep you gave Joel a piece of your mind in the kitchen.

“Mister Miller let’s stop these silly games we both know what’s going on…you don’t like me and I couldn’t fucking care less.” You scoff and get off the counter, slowly drawing closer to Joel “You hate me so much but Sarah loves me soooooo much and imagine how upset she’d be to know that her Daddy doesn’t want her to be happy. Wouldn’t that be a shame,huh?” You question with an enticing head tilt.

Now you’re right in front of him, toe to toe with big bad imposing Joel Miller. You can feel the pulling in your lower belly from being so close and most importantly smelling his manly musky scent. You remind yourself that you gotta stay focused if you want to win this game.

You get even closer until your able to place your hands on his warm broad chest sliding them slightly upwards his shoulders. “What the hell r ya doin?” Joel hisses.

You lean up to whisper in his ear “Nothing, just letting you know that I eat guys like you for breakfast, I chew you up and spit you out. You’re not a threat to me, old man.” You pull back and give him a sinister sickly smile.

The wickedness in your tone causes goosebumps to prickle on his flesh.

You feed off of seeing him scared. You enjoy knowing what kinda effect you have on this usually so collected man.

“Goodnight Mister Miller, better start sleeping with one eye open from now on.” You giggle while skipping up the stairs.

That was the start of it all.

Now 2 years later with Sarah just having turned 18, Joel realizes that you two are gonna keep him on his toes even more than already.

The 18th birthday celebration was already a disaster, what Joel assumed would be a relaxed family gathering turned into you crashing the party and taking Sarah out, of course Sarah was excited so how could Joel say no.

Well when you two didn’t return at 12 pm like promised he admittedly got worried, but he wanted to trust Sarah so he tried to stay calm.

At 3 am he hears the screeching tires from some show off guys car and loud drunkish giggling. The princesses have officially arrived back home from their trip, almost 4 hours too late.

When Joel opens the front door he sees you and Sarah practically half draped over your shoulder stubbling up the starirs in sloppy drunk steps. You two are giggling and mumbling at each other in a language Joel does not understand, it certainly can’t be English.

You immediately glock his disgruntled face, the alcohol cursing through your system emboldens you so you haphazardly shove him out of the way. You sigh loudly and obviously annoyed at his antics all while herding Sarah up the stairs.

Joel cannot believe that after dragging Sarah off, taking her to god knows where, letting her drink and god forbid smoke… you still have the audacity to behave so entitled.

You put Sarah in danger and don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Joel hates your guts, in his eyes you are an entitled little brat that desperately needs to be put in her place.

Even though Joel hates you, he at the same time cannot keep his head clear of dirty images of your young and tight body. He thinks about the pool day where you showed up in the tiniest bikini he could think of.

Prancing around all while he had to resist the urge to just tear it off. You knew he was looking and he knew that you enjoyed his eyes flitting all over your enticing figure.

The both of you were tethering on a dangerous line, that could cause big trouble. How would Sarah feel knowing this is happening behind her back.

You constantly antagonize him like that wearing short skirts and tight shirts with no bra because apparently it’s too warm for that. Running into him, pressing your perky tits against his bicep in passing, coincidentally bending over in front of him. Joel was quickly approaching a breaking point, his resolve crumbling more and more with each time that he had to tug at his throbbing length all while thinking about you.

Joel clearly underestimated how much you’d play him and how much better at it you are. At this rate you’ll win this game. He however has a plan, that might even after everything still save him the success.

Joel only has to wait for the right time to attack, catch you off guard and use that to his advantage.

He gets pulled from his thoughts when he hears something that confuses him, you are singing and it sounds beautiful.

Joel creeps up the stairs as quietly as possible to not alert either of you.

The closer he gets to Sarah's door the clearer it becomes. Joel pushes the bedroom door open by only a few inches to get a look at the situation and it makes his heart roar. You sit on the side of the bed we’re Sarah is nicely tucked in, your body facing Joel but your eyes locked on Sarah’s face. Softly singing a lullaby in a language foreign to him while gently stroking over her cheeks, smoothing the hair out of her face, almost like a mother would with her baby. Something Sarah never got to experience in childhood since her mother left so early on.

Joel realizes that despite the rough exterior you put up there’s more to you than just a cold hearted homewrecker, you care for Sarah, you take care of her and watch over her wherever you two run off to. Joel feels gratitude for someone he admittedly doesn’t know a whole lot about.

Joel has seen enough and retreats back downstairs.

When you stumble into the living room to bid your goodbyes Joel looks like he’s deep in thoughts.

So you announce “Sarah is sleeping, make sure she drinks lotssssssss of water when she wakes up and takes more aspirin if needed. I’m out.”

You turn to walk off when Joel gets up “Hey ya sure bout walkin home now? I can drive ya.” He offers but you decline “Nah it’s alright Mr. Miller I can protect myself, I’ve always done it. Besides, why do you suddenly care,huh?“ you sarcastically laugh while slipping out of the house.

When you’ve turned away from him the snarky smile falls right off your face.

Joel actually felt somewhat sorry that night for the way he treated you all those times before.

That lasted until you decided to smoke weed with Sarah in his lil work shed that was situated in the back of his garden.

Joel would’ve realized either way if not by the smells wafting up his nostrils the moment he entered the shed later in the evening, then surely by Sarah’s unstoppable giggling, her slow mumbled speech or by the food flash she got.

When the two of you begged him to let you sleep over he eagerly agreed. Chalk it up to the weed that numbs your brain that this quick reaction didn’t seem suspicious.

Joel knows you will find him, you’ll see the open back door and walk right into his trap. You never sleep the night through when you spend it over at the Millers, he can hear you getting up and wandering around the house. Sarah on the other hand has got to be blessed with an extremely deep sleep.

The thought of overpowering you makes him smile giddily into the darkness of the shed.

As usual you wake up in the middle of the night, ever since being a little child the sleeping became a struggle and nothing works except tiring yourself out.

You get up out of Sarah’s huge plush bed, slip out into the hallway and down the stairs. There you immediately catch the wide open back door leading to the garden. Odd, Mister Miller would never in a million years leave that open.

You walk up to the sliding doors and when you stand in the threshold staring into the dark backyard you see that the shed is left open too.

Out of stupid curiosity you decide to investigate, not the smartest to perhaps walk right into a burglar who has a weapon but you don’t really care.

So you pat the way across the cold grass, it tickles the sole of your bare feet and the fresh midnight breeze actually feels awfully pleasant on your heated skin. Halfway you stop and glance upward at the beautiful full moon shining down on you.

After taking a deep breath you continue onward towards the shed.

When you reach the opening of the shed there’s really nothing you can see or hear. So you step further into it, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

You feel like someone is watching you but you are unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from. It’s unsettling so you do something considerably stupid “Hello, hello is there anyone? Mister Miller are you in here?” You call out with a shaking voice.

No response.

A light flickering in the center of the room catches you off guard and now you can see him, the one that watched you.

Mr.Miller is sitting on a bar chair behind him is his working table, he leans his back against the edge of the table.

Your eyes immediately go to his slightly sweaty face -the Texas heat is unrelenting even in the middle of the night- he looks gorgeous illuminated by the tiny lamp glowing behind his shoulder on the cupboard. He’s smirking sinisterly at you.

You let your eyes wander over his broad shoulders that are clad in a green flannel. Inevitably your eyes slip down to his wide spread jeans covered thighs, they look so big and muscular.

He catches your staring and drops a hand on his thigh that slowly starts stroking up and down. Making you gulp audibly.

“M..M-..Mister M..Miller what are you doing here?” You stammer out.

“I was waitin for ya to come find me.” He huffs gruffly.

He continues “Close the door behind ya Lucky.”

You feel somewhat hypnotized by his slow calculated words as you, out of pure reflex, reach for the handle behind you.

As you shut the door, effectively trapping yourself with him he murmurs “That’s a good girl. Ya do know how to listen Lucky Girl.”

Hearing Joel call you a good girl in his signature dark molasses like voice had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Hmm ya like that baby, huh?” He inquires

“N..no, that would be fuckin weird.” You try sounding sincere but to no avail Joel has seen through you a long time ago.

“Lucky you are liar, a slut, a junkie..-“

You hiss “What did you just say?” While stepping closer to where he sits.

“Ya heard me right Lucky, you are a fuckin junkie, smoking weed in my shed with Sarah. Are ya outta your mind?” He throws back

“You gotta be kidding me, right? Big Bad Mr Miller is shitting his pants cuz of a bit of weed.” You wheeze.

“That’s enough.” He decides, getting up in one swift imposing movement. Suddenly he’s the one towering over you and he looks pissed.

He’s on you in the blink of an eye threading his hand through your hair grabbing a decent amount by which he pulls you with him.

“Ouch…ouch what the fuck let me go.” You huff while trying to get his hands out of your hair. But he doesn’t appreciate the disobedience and starts pulling even harder, which brings you to tears from the pain.

“Ohhh poor baby Lucky, look at those tears, ya not havin’ fun huh? That’s too bad darlin’ but I don’t care.”

He sits back down on the chair and in one swift motion pulls you over his thighs. Your belly rests on his crotch and your whole world is turned upside down.

“Clearly no one has ever taught ya a lesson, that’s why ya always behave like a bratty bitch.”

His free hand flits to your sleeping shorts and practically tears them off of you. At the ripping sound you yelp.

“Hmm look at that plump ass and those sweet lacy panties…ya always wear this slutty underwear when ya have a sleepover?” All while he’s groping you.

“What the hell are you doing Joel?”

“Aw is it not Mr.Miller anymore? Have we lost our manners lil girl? Or is there a better name for me, hmm?” He inquires.

For some reason you know exactly what he wants to hear but you're not inclined to give in. Yet.

“It’s fine baby ya don’t need to say it now, I’ll make you scream that goddamn name you fucking slut.” He pulls on your hair “Ya hear me bitch.?”

All you manage is a meak nod before he lets go off your face.

You can feel his warm and calloused hand on your cheek squeezing, stroking and poking. Then his hand is gone but not for long. You can’t even react. He's that fast in delivering the first smack to your behind.

“Ya gonna take what i give ya and behave cuz you wanna be a good girl, right? Ya wanna be my good girl,hmm?”

“Y..y-yes I do Mr.Miller.” You say defeated.

“Atta Girl. I think 10 should do it, for now, until ya feel like acting up again..”

He is unrelenting when it comes to punishing you, each time the impact is harder and more unexpected than the previous. You have to bite your lip in order to suppress a moan, even though it hurts it’s incredible. You can feel yourself becoming wet, with each time that his hand collides with your behind more slick gushes out of your pussy. At this point there must be a wet patch visible.

His bulge pressing against your stomach tells you how much this is affecting him too.

“Lucky I know ya try to hide it but I can smell how she’s leaking and if I check I’m sure I’ll find that cunt all sloppy for me, right?”

“Y..y-yes.”

“That’s what i thought.” And with that he continues the assault on your cheeks.

And it may be only ten but he makes them count, the blows are measured and hard. You guess your cheeks must be glowing at this point.

When he finally reaches 10 it feels like hours have passed since you decided to go wander around. He’s massaging your bruised ass. You finally feel like you’re getting a moment of peace but that couldn’t be further from the truth, because Joel threads his hand back into your hair and yanks you to face him.

He’s just staring at you, accessing you and then he kisses you.

It’s rough, teeth clashing, tongues swirling around, his hands urgently grabbing your face, your fingers tangled in his graying curls.

Though the kissing is over before it can escalate too far, Joel is once again pulling you by your hair, this time he’s more gentle, he pulls you off of his knees and pushes you down on them in the space between his spread thighs. You’re at eye level with his crotch now that looks painfully hard.

As you peek up at him through your lashes you muse “Looks like you got a problem, a big problem…Daddy. You want me to help you?” All while innocently tilting your head at him.

He grabs your face roughly “Shut up Lucky and put ya smart mouth to better use.”

“Don’t underestimate me Daddy. I’ll make you love me.” You say while giving him a cheeky wink.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @toxicanonymity @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @joelsdagger @tonysopranosrobe @luxurychristmaspudding @mountainsandmayhem @moonlitbirdie @joelalorian @sawymredfox @thundermartini @ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @pedropeach @joelsgreys @joelstummy @ovaryacted @iamasaddie @wintrwinchestr @littlemisspascal

#Joel Miller #manspreading olympics #Joel Miller Fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller tlou #joel miller age gap #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #kinda dark #My writing #Mina Writes

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betamash · 2 months ago

Text

Knife to Meet You!

Read on AO3 here.

Word Count: 2,963

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood

---

Patton was always terrified of being killed by monsters, he just thought they wouldn't look so human...

Or...

Patton Hart is kidnapped by a cult and stabbed, left for dead in the woods as a sacrifice for a monster. He finds someone impossibly human instead. Well, except for their size...

---

@delimeful Look!

Based off of Delimeful's "hold my body down"

Growing up, Patton had heard tales of monsters. Selkies, the fae, driders, (he especially hated those tales, always ending in someone being eaten alive) but one monster was so outlandish he was sure it was made up. Giants. Maneaters. Large, humanoid creatures that lived far from human territory, and would snatch up unsuspecting victims if any were unfortunate enough to get too close.

Even as a child, Patton couldn't believe it, beasts that caused the earth to tremble as they walked, larger than the trees. It was so outlandish, not as believable as ghosts or witches, who were based in some reality. He was always paranoid of walking too close to the edge of town and coming face-to-face with a drider. Every time he saw a spider, he had to quell the hammering in his heart, afraid of even the tiniest orb weavers, no matter how safe they were. He was always a coward, and the townsfolk didn't like him, always threatening to sacrifice him to the woods and rid themselves of him.

He was always terrified of being killed by monsters, he just thought they wouldn't look so human...

They caught him on a night of worship. The townspeople dragged him, kicking and screaming, far outside the village, to a worn trail in the woods. Their torches gave the barest hint of light, but Patton could still see a circle of stones and an ominous crucifix, which had the clinging odor of blood leaking off of it.

Finally, he thought, they're going to kill me. I've been weighing them down, and they're going to kill me. He was wrestled into position and tied to the wooden cross unceremoniously. Then, what he assumed was the leader of the cult, stepped out from behind a thick sycamore, chanting something in a language Patton had never heard, before pulling a long, jagged dagger from their cloak. They approached with a threatening sort of determination, slowly raising the dagger higher above them like a death sentence. His shirt was ripped upwards, leaving no barrier between his vital organs and the cult leader, who never paused or wavered in their steps.

Patton braced himself.

The dagger sunk into his skin, and searing pain spread through Patton's stomach. The cult leader carved through his belly until the dagger met his hip, where they pulled it out with more force than necessary, splattering Patton's torso in crimson flecks. Then, as if they hadn't doomed him, the cult marched back into town, disappearing into the night, the sounds of their cheering and menacing laughter fading into the trees and out of sight. Patton finally let himself sob, fat tears rolling down his chin and falling into the darkness below his feet.

He forced himself not to writhe in pain, worried about jostling his wound and blacking out. His only solace now was choked out prayers and mumbled coos, meant to soothe his tears, though he never stopped crying. If he strained his ears, he could hear the barest wisps of wind, cooling his eyes and prickling the back of his neck. And they were getting louder, no longer drowned out by Patton's cries or the cult's excitement.

Then, there was a cracking sound, as if the trees had split around him, and thundering, almost like earthquakes, which were deafening. He realized hopelessly that the sound was approaching him. He silently hoped that whatever it was granted him a quick death.

Alarm swept through his thoughts, memories of tales he'd heard long ago echoing in the back of his head, warning him that these sounds were described to him in great detail before. He thought he should be afraid, but his energy was drained, his demise already certain. He let his chin rest against his chest and drifted off, the pain numbing slightly as he succumbed to blood loss...

Until he was torn away from his bindings by a colossal hand. He jerked awake, somehow more terrified than before, and looked up to see two immense eyes staring directly at him from behind a pair of handmade glasses. His breath stuttered, his heart hammering in his chest, causing even more blood to leak out of his gut, and he whimpered in pain.

The giant looked... Worried?

He was being cradled in two enormous hands. Thick, leathery skin blocked his view of the forest below, which he was thankful for, but it was hard to ignore the swaying as the giant hurriedly stepped away from the small clearing. It turned away from the village, and Patton's stomach dropped, the motion eliciting raw panic, causing Patton to pass out again.

---

When he finally came to, he was lying in a nest of blankets, surrounded by warmth and the scent of peppermint. He was peering upwards towards a large ceiling hundreds of feet above his head, distant from his thoughts as all he could think was danger, before he remembered what had happened to him and shot upright.

The first thing he noticed was the vast expanse of the room, the floor impossibly far below him. The second thing he noticed was the giant from last night, sitting across the room, reading a massive book that Patton would have a hard time even opening. The giant didn't notice Patton watching it, so he slowly slipped out of the blanket den and tried his best not to scream when he pulled at his wound. The third thing he noticed, very late, was that he was shirtless, and that there were clumsily applied bandages wrapped around his frame. He suddenly felt very exposed.

The giant had yet to turn around, so Patton slid down the rest of the blankets and tried to catch his breath. He was sitting on a massive table, in a giant's house, with said giant sitting across from him. Not an ideal situation, but Patton, ever the optimist, was certain he could figure out how to escape. He was sure he was going to die last night, anyways, so it's not like it could get worse.

And then, Patton had the misfortune of looking past the table, down, down, down at the floor below, and feeling hopeless all over again. There was no way he could climb down, especially not with a giant (heh) stab wound. He backed away from the edge of the table, sitting himself against the pile of blankets and trying to figure a way out of this. Sure, he was trapped, but that didn't mean he was doomed, right?

He just had to wait for a better opportunity to present itself, then he could slip away unnoticed. He might as well let his body rest, then. He climbed back up the hill of soft, surprisingly warm blankets. When he reached the top, he turned to look back at the giant.

Who was looking right back at him.

Patton's skin drained of any color he might have regained from being asleep, and he froze, unsure of what to do. The giant just kept staring at him, expression unreadable. Patton couldn't look away, and it seemed neither could the giant. In the distance, a kettle began screaming, snapping them both out of their staring contest.

Patton dove into the blanket pile, covering his head with his hands and hiding as best he could, suddenly very aware that he was in a giant's home. He heard the distant scraping of a chair, and the sound of the giant's footsteps receding into another room. Patton focused on calming his racing heart. He could hear the sounds of ceramic mugs clinking against a countertop, and water being poured generously into them. He wondered if he was going to be boiled alive, before the giant returned, this time walking closer to Patton's hiding spot. He was shaking.

He heard the mugs being placed down against the wood, and the chair from before being dragged over to the table. Then, the giant reached into the blanket nest and pulled Patton out, much to Patton's absolute horror.

Patton tensed "W-Wait!" He covered his mouth, afraid to say anymore as the giant looked at him, regarding him with a cold, assessing gaze. The giant did not wait, instead placing Patton onto a large piece of cloth, likely a handkerchief of some kind. Then it reached over Patton to grab a giant bowl. It placed the bowl gently next to Patton, and pinning him with a gaze, likely meant to scare Patton more, it got up from the table, presumably going to grab something else it'd forgotten.

Patton bolted, adrenaline masking the pain of his still very gaping stab wound and pushing him to keep running, no destination, just the primal fear of a prey animal who knows it's been cornered. The giant immediately noticed, letting out a very annoyed sigh, and reached over to pluck Patton back up and deposit him onto the cloth again. Patton let out a blood curdling scream as his was lifted into the air.

The giant did not dignify him with a response, instead going to leave the room again. Patton went to get back up, still full of terror, and the giant paused, seeming to think through its options for a moment before scooping Patton up into its hands again, taking him with it as it left the room. Patton couldn't breathe.

He tried desperately to suck air into his lungs, to fill his chest with much needed oxygen, but there was a band of tightness constricting him, and he started hyperventilating in the giant's palms. The giant, ever vigilant, noticed this, and made a weird expression that Patton didn't recognize before bringing Patton up to its chest and... Holding him there. All Patton could hear was the giant's breathing, its immense lungs rising and falling under its chest. It didn't move, just stood there, pressing Patton into its chest and breathing. And the worst part was, it was helping.

Patton, after a few false starts, was able to greedily suck in a breath, and then another, until he could see the black spots in his vision fizzle out, leaving him fixed on the kitchen in front of him. A rather normal looking kitchen, for a giant. No blood or corpses strewn about. There were cabinets set into the counters, and a breadbox in the far corner. Jars of various preserved fruits were stacked along the backsplash, and it smelled like mint and honey. It was homey, not something you would expect from a maneater. After Patton had calmed down, the giant brought him in front of his face, and much to Patton's surprise, actually spoke.

"Are you alright?" It- He had a deep, sultry voice, and Patton flushed a deep red color at the purring emanating from behind him, through the giant's hands and up his back. The giant looked even more concerned. "Hello?" He tried again, but Patton was too focused on melting into a puddle of shame at the thoughts running through his head. He thought he was going to die, he should be terrified, not-! Patton tensed as the giant poked at him with a thick finger.

"D-Don't touch me, please..." The giant retracted the finger, and Patton took a few deep breaths to compose himself. "Thank you..."

The giant nodded. "Of course." He started walking again, stepping into a small bathroom and grabbing bandages and gauze. He returned Patton back onto the table in what he now knew was the giant's living room and placed the new items nearby. Then, the giant took one of the previously steaming mugs of water and poured a small amount into the bowl from earlier. Testing the temperature with his finger, the giant deemed it was cool enough and moved to Patton.

The giant reached out to Patton.

"Stop! What are you doing!" Patton wrapped his arms around himself, stepping away from the giant's hand.

The giant looked confused. "I need to take your clothes off so I can wash them and so I can bathe you. I also need to change your bandages, since you've been asleep for about two days now." He started reaching for Patton again.

Patton flinched, his head spinning from the information. "I-I can take my clothes off by myself, thank you!" He made no move to remove his pants, though.

The giant hummed. "Alright. Just make sure you replace the bandages, and wrap them tight, you are still bleeding. I will leave you be." The giant stood, his vast figure overshadowing Patton, before he moved to leave the room.

Patton sighed, relieved, and stripped. He placed his dirty, blood-soaked clothes and bandages in small, separate piles and climbed into the makeshift bath. The water was pleasantly warm, and Patton found himself humming as he lowered himself into the water. He sat there for a while, just soaking in the warmth, before he started lightly scrubbing at his face and hands. he didn't realize before, but he was absolutely caked in dirt and grime.

Once he was done, he stepped out, shivering slightly at the drop in temperature, and wrapped himself in the handkerchief, covering himself as best he could. The giant returned shortly after, knocking gently on the doorframe.

Patton sighed. "C-Come in!" The giant stepped into view.

"I am here to collect your clothes." And the giant did just that, focusing on delicately gathering up the piles in his hand. "I'm going to wash your clothes and discard the old bandages." He narrated out loud, which Patton was grateful for, and left him alone again. Patton sighed. He moved to sit down, careful to not tear his guts open again, and grabbed the bandages and gauze to patch himself up.

Patton was almost certain he would have to leave, that the giant did not have good intentions for him. And yet, his emotions were telling him that, maybe, he really was safe. There was a war happening inside of him, between his optimism and his unyielding sense of panic and terror. It was made worse by the fact that he was severely injured, every time he felt afraid, that fear also translated into pain, white hot and distracting. It felt like his terror was winning. He felt helpless.

The giant returned once again, carrying soggy clothes in his right palm, and a teabag and thimble in his left. He carefully lowered the items onto the table, and sat, gaze flitting over Patton before resting on the other remaining mug of water. It had tiny wisps of steam curling over the lip, still a little warm, but not boiling like before. The giant looked back at Patton before slowly reaching for the teabag and placing it into the mug. The whole time, Patton watched, completely still.

The giant looked over at the thimble. "You must be thirsty. I don't own any human glassware, but I have this." He reached over and plucked the thimble up between his thumb and index finger. "I hope you don't mind..." He mumbled.

Honestly, Patton couldn't care less. he would have drunk out of a water trough if he had to. Two whole days, while not a new record, was a very long time for him to be asleep. Patton finally noticed how chapped his lips were, how gummy his eyelids had become, and how dry his throat was.

He nodded eagerly.

The giant looked bemused, dipping the thimble into his own mug before handing it to Patton. He had to hold it with both hands, but other than that, it was perfect. He tipped the makeshift cup back into his mouth and drank wildly, unable to pace himself. The giant looked a bit concerned, but Patton was busy trying not to waterboard himself.

He finally pulled away from the thimble, desperately heaving in air, and staring blankly into the distance.

The giant cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you are feeling better." Patton nodded nervously. "I found you tied up, and I am assuming you are another offering from that cult located in the village?"

Patton swallowed. "Y-Yes, that's right..." He suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands, squeezing them into fists repeatedly.

The giant sighed. "Well, I am very sorry." Patton was terrified all over again. Was he going to kill him after all?

"Y-You don't have to kill me! I can help you, just l-let me live, and I can help you, I swear!" Patton spoke before he could think, pleading with the giant. He tried to stand up and gasped painfully when he pulled on his stomach again.

The giant seized him quickly, shaking his head violently. "NO! You misunderstand; I have no intentions of killing you. And please, try not to move too much, you will only hurt yourself more." Patton tried not to flinch at the giant's tone.

Of course he wasn't going to kill him. The giant obviously wanted something from Patton. He just hoped it wasn't something bad, like hurting other people. Patton wouldn't hurt anyone, even if it meant he would be hurt. That's why he was here in the first place. He refused to join the cult, and it cost him. But he would never. The thought made him sick.

Patton nodded. "Right, okay. I believe you, giant."

The giant nodded, before fulling registering what he said. "Logan. You may call me Logan."

Patton smiled weakly. "Well Logan, you may call me Patton. And it's knife to meet you."

Logan groaned. "Please refrain from any wordplay, for my sake."

Patton giggled, a small, choked sound. "Sorry, I'm not so good at edge-y jokes!"

Logan put Patton down on the table again in favor of hiding his face in his hands. Patton smiled, his first real smile in forever.

Maybe things would turn out fine, after all.

#my writing #g/t writing #sanders sides #sanders sides g/t #logan sanders #patton sanders #g/t

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motherfuckingmaneater · 1 year ago

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her love was like a knife.

#bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix black #bellatrix black lestrange #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x bellatrix #bellatrix x sirius #bellirius #leave me alone i'm obsessed with them #hp edits #marauders era #blackcest #maneaters graphics #the ancient and most noble house of black #the most ancient and noble house of black #the black family #the black cousins #the blacks

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phantomamour · 5 months ago

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݁ ₊˚⭒๋࣭ 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ݁⭑‧₊˚

✦ . most often seen with coriolanus snow . ✦

now playing - breakin' dishes by rihanna ၊၊||၊ i ain't gon' stop until i see police and lights, i'm a fight a man tonight ၊၊||၊ playing next - busy woman, locked out of heaven, shut up and drive, all the stars, super graphic ultra modern girl, bed chem, obsessed, maneater, into you

wardrobe - red lace, silk slip dresses, "forgets" a bra (mostly to drive her boy insane), necklaces and dainty rings, huggie earrings, a little heel, big jacket, lace camisole, silk sleepwear, low cut, deep red lip

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐬 ⟢ wicked!au/female!rebel ⟢ president's daughter ⟢ arranged marriage (often post-marriage) 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬

⟢ a force of nature, taking charge of whatever room she is in and silencing those around her when she finds it necessary

⟢ mouth of a sailor when upset

⟢ her boy once tried to get her to change when she "forgot" a bra and he has since learned his lesson

⟢ possessive as hell sometimes but it comes from a secret deep insecurity

⟢ kisses like the only way she can breathe is to steal the breath of her boy

⟢ will drag her boy to the brink of insanity just to be sweet and tell him to relax (in and out of bed)

⟢ changes into her sleepwear the second she's home

⟢ keeps a detailed journal

⟢ has an extensive perfume collection, one or two for each situation at a minimum

⟢ more pillows on her bed than her boy thinks he's ever seen in his life

⟢ her favorite gifts from her boy are expensive jewelry mixed with quality time

⟢ her boy brings out a soft spot in her that she tries to hide but can't around him

⟢ big fan of parallel play so that she can have some semblance of alone time with her boy still there

⟢ loves the spring but has a soft spot for roses in the summer

⟢ will start a fight with a stupid man, her boy only holds her back half the time

⟢ femdom

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #phantom's readers #paprika!reader

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crazywomanposting · 5 months ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ maneater (spencer reid x oc)

GIF by thoughtsofreid

summary: Spencer falls in love with an unsub.

warnings: explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of violence

read this on ao3!

Chapter 10: She’ll Chew You Up

Over the next few weeks, Mary gave Spencer the information he needed. Names, locations, patterns of behavior. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start piecing together the network she had been caught up in.

The team was skeptical when Spencer first brought the intel to them. “And your source?” Hotch asked, his sharp gaze pinning Spencer in place.

“Confidential,” Spencer replied, his voice steady.

Hotch raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “We’ll need more to act on this.”

“I’ll get it,” Spencer promised.

Mary’s involvement was kept hidden from the team, but it weighed heavily on Spencer. Every meeting, every conversation felt like walking a tightrope. But they were making progress. Slowly but surely, they were dismantling the network.

Mary’s information was a treasure trove of connections, but it wasn’t without its challenges. Some names were aliases, requiring the team to sift through layers of false identities. Others were high-profile individuals, their influence and resources making them untouchable without airtight evidence. Spencer worked tirelessly, connecting dots late into the night, his mind racing with the implications of what they were uncovering.

One lead took the team to a private club in Chicago, rumored to be a hub for the network’s upper echelon. Surveillance confirmed their suspicions, and they coordinated a raid. It was risky—one misstep could tip off the entire network—but they couldn’t pass up the chance to strike at the heart of the operation.

The raid was a whirlwind of chaos and precision. SWAT teams stormed the club, arresting key figures while Spencer and the team combed through confiscated records. Among the evidence were encrypted files detailing transactions, locations, and names—proof of the network’s extensive reach. But it also revealed something chilling: the network had contingency plans for anyone who betrayed them.

Spencer’s heart sank as he read the files. Mary’s name wasn’t explicitly mentioned, but the details matched her circumstances. If the network suspected her involvement with the FBI, she would be their next target.

He didn’t tell the team. Not yet. Instead, he buried himself in the investigation, desperate to dismantle the network before they could act. The weight of his secrecy was suffocating, but he couldn’t risk exposing Mary to further danger.

One night, as they sat together on the couch, Spencer turned to Mary. “We’re close. Once this is over, you’ll be free.”

She gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Free. Right.”

“Mary…” he started, but she shook her head.

“It’s just… even if they’re gone, I’ll still be me. I’ll still have done the things I’ve done.”

“You’re more than that,” he said softly, taking her hand. “You’ve made mistakes, but you’re trying to change. That matters.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she squeezed his hand tightly. “You make me want to be better, Spencer. I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m trying.”

“You do deserve it,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “And I’ll be here. For as long as you want me.”

The operation came to a head in a way that Spencer could only describe as chaos. The arrests came swiftly, one lead cascading into another, until the team found themselves unraveling an entire web of corruption and exploitation. They tracked down hidden safehouses, intercepted communications, and froze assets, dismantling the network piece by piece.

Spencer was in the thick of it, coordinating with local law enforcement and FBI field agents. But in the back of his mind, Mary lingered. He thought about her constantly, worried that someone might connect the dots, that her name might slip out during an interrogation. The weight of that fear made every hour feel like a marathon.

When the dust finally settled, and the last of the arrests were made, Spencer excused himself from the team’s celebration. He needed to see her.

Mary was waiting for him when he returned home. The moment he stepped through the door, she was there, arms wrapped tightly around him.

“It’s over,” he whispered into her hair. “They’re done.”

She pulled back, searching his face for confirmation. “You’re sure?”

He nodded. “You’re free, Mary. Really free.”

For the first time in months, he saw something like hope flicker in her eyes. “What does that even mean?” she asked, half-laughing, half-crying.

“It means we figure out what’s next,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “Together.”

Mary let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I don’t even know who I am without all of this.”

Spencer smiled softly. “Then let’s find out.”

The days that followed were tentative but hopeful. Mary took small steps toward building a life she could call her own, and Spencer was by her side through every one of them. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, of fear, of questioning whether she could ever truly leave her past behind. But they faced it together, and for the first time, Mary began to believe she could have something more.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching an old movie, Mary turned to Spencer. “Do you think it’s possible? To really start over?”

He looked at her, his expression serious but warm. “Yes. I think it’s possible. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Spencer.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

For the first time, it felt like they had more than just a fragile bubble. It felt like they had a future.

last chapter

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc

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