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jelly-drabble · 10 months

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A Gift For A Hound (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

Summary: Joffrey gives his faithful Hound a gift---you.

Words: 5,277 Warnings: PIV, Oral sex, Master/Slave,

The Hound walks down the long stone corridor that leads to his room. In his right hand he carries a wineskin filled with the first thing he could get his fucking hands on. Being the personal bodyguard to a cunt like Joffrey is no easy task. The little shit is ruthlessly cruel. Which is saying something coming from him. Sandor Clegane isn’t known for being kind hearted but he’s no Joffrey. The boy is sick in the head. He does his best to push it from his mind. The day is done, meaning he can forget the shit from the day and drown himself in wine alone until the numbness of sleep takes him. This is Sandor’s nightly ritual. One that he honestly looks forward to. But when he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by the usual solitude. Instead, there’s a naked woman kneeling on the floor beside his bed.

It takes him a moment to get over the initial shock, but when he does, his voice booms throughout his chamber. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing here?” You lift your head to look at him, keeping your hands palms up on the tops of your knees. You’re as naked as your nameday, all except your neck. Tied around it is a yellow ribbon with three black dogs down the front—the colors and sigil of his house. “Hello, My Lord Hound.” “I’m no lord. So you can keep those meaningless titles to yourself.” You nod but stay silent. Sandor growls, nearly barking at you. “Well? Are you going to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here?” You don’t even flinch at his raised voice, just answer him softly with a voice as warm as honey. “I belong to you. I am yours to do with as you please.” His brows pull together, not understanding the words that just left your mouth. “What?” You smile and patiently repeat yourself. “I belong to you now, for as long as you want me.” Your words have his eyes roam over your body for the first time. Every curve, the smoothness of your skin, and the way the chill in the room already has your nipples hard makes his cock twitch. “I’m a gift from King Joffrey.” That catches his attention. Joffrey barely spared him a glance. Now he was giving him gifts? “You’re…my gift.” You smile warmly. “Yes. Master.” That was new. No one had ever called him that before. He isn’t sure how to feel about it, but it’s far better than being called ‘my lord’. He steps over the threshold and lets the door shut behind him before moving closer. At his approach, you once again bow your head. There’s a gentle air about you. It’s something that isn’t a typical trait to the women found on the Streets of Silk. Not that Sandor was a frequent visitor. Most women couldn’t stomach looking at his scarred face. Even when he paid them, they struggled. What was the point of wasting coin on that?

You, on the other hand, are almost intoxicatingly feminine. It makes him want to press his nose to your cunt and breathe in your scent. He looks down at you, feeling more curious and less irritated than when he first walked in. “You said you belong to me?” You nod. “So, you’ll do anything I ask you to?” You keep your eyes downcast but respond without hesitation. “Yes, Master Hound. It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.”

A tension builds through his frame. Not out of anger, but anticipation. Anticipation to feel release that he often doesn’t get unless he takes his cock in his hand. “Look at me,” he commands. You do so eagerly, looking at him without a speck of fear. He searches your eyes for the lie, determined to find it. He is the Hound afterall. Usually he could smell a liar from yards away, but with you, he only sees devotion. As if you truly wish to serve him. Most were intimidated or afraid of him, but this is something different. It’s submission. It awakens his more animalistic needs. The part that wants nothing more than to fuck and claim and breed. His unscarred eye twitches as his hand moves to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, fuck, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his gloved tumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his. He starts to pull his armor and clothes from his body. You sit up on your knees, helping where you can. You manage to pull the gauntlets from his hands and unbuckle his sword belt. But the rest he does. His fingers move too fast and he knows the armor like the back of his hand. You find other ways to make yourself useful, taking items from him and gently placing them down while he throws the rest on the floor. When he’s left in nothing but his pants and boots, your hand lightly runs over the bulge in the front of his pants. Involuntarily, he bucks into your touch, wanting more. However, you make no move to continue past teasing touches. He grunts impatiently, catching your attention. Your eyes meet, your head tilting to the side as you whisper the words…. “Command me, Master.” Command? Why the fuck would he need to do that? Any other whore he’d ever slept with always took matters into their own hands and rushed to get things over with. “Tell me how to please you. I just want to please my Master.” Your pleading tone shoots right to his already hardening cock. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin while his hand moves to the back of your skull. He pulls you in, guiding you closer to his groin.

“Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, leaving kisses along his clothed cock. Only the linen of his pants separates you, but still he can feel the warmth of your mouth. Sandor lets out a rough growl while undoing the knot at the front of his pants. “Don’t stop.” You coo as sweetly as a dove and your kisses become more passionate as moans escape your parted lips. You hold eye contact with him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. He can’t recall a time when even his fellow King’s Guard was able to look at him, let alone a woman. Everything about this is different. You are different.

You look at him with desire. It only makes him more eager to sink his cock into you. However, once the cloth falls away to reveal his fully naked form, you sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting on your knees. You look more like a high born lady than a common whore. So submissive and pretty. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” His hand comes down to wrap around the length of his aching cock. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand. You seem transfixed but still manage to respond, “My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.”

“My property?” he breathes and starts to slowly stroke himself. He does this more to tease you than himself. It clearly works because you only seem able to nod. A sly grin comes across his features. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “A beautiful…little thing…that belongs to me.” Sandor pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck your Master’s cock.” You rise onto your knees so fast that you almost take him by surprise. Within moments, you’re pushing his hand away and wrapping your own around the base while your tongue traces over the veins in his shaft. “Your cock is so thick,” you moan out. Sandor isn’t sure if you meant to say that out loud but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is…until you drop your hand away and swallow his cock whole. “Fucking Hells,” he swears and involuntarily bucks his hips forward. You hum, tightening your lips around his thickness as you pick up the pace and bob your head up and down. He watches you intently. Dark brown irises burn with lust as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “Filthy thing is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth.

You nod with a happy little hum, and Sandor can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his scarred lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants more. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head as thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair. He moves you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical command, allowing him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. Sandor is by no means a small man and his cock is no different, but you handle it with skill. The sloppy, wet sounds of you sucking with such enthusiasm makes him feel drunk. The pleasure courses through him, all the way down to his toes. It’s almost too much. And your big, beautiful eyes don’t make it any easier. They’re full of affection while unshed tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from how wide your mouth is stretched open. He slams his cock into your throat, hitting as deeply as you can possibly take him. Your hands and nails dig into his thighs to hold yourself steady. “That’s it,” he grunts, “take it.” You moan and gag with your brows knit together. He would have thought you were in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed expression on your face.

Sandor takes all of you in, wanting to commit the image of you gagging on his cock to memory. So that when you were gone, he’d at least still have that. But that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. The blood in his veins sings. You’re getting off on this.

On pleasing him. On having his cock in your mouth. On obeying. Suddenly, having you down on the ground isn’t enough. He forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock out of your mouth. You whine at the loss and lean forward to try and get him back in your mouth, but not even your alluring mouth will keep a man like The Hound from getting what he wants. Bending at the waist, he shoves his hands under your armpits and lifts you up from the ground before throwing you onto his bed. You yelp when your back hits the mattress. Sandor simply grins at your shock from being so easily manhandled. “Is that cunt as pretty as your face, girl?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, coloring them, but still you open your legs, baring yourself. You’re a soaking, dripping mess. He’s certain he’s never seen a cunt as wet as yours is right now. It makes his throat feel dry…and in desperate need of a drink. Not willing to wait any longer, Sandor sinks to his knees and dives his face between your thighs. His tongue drags along your folds before it grazes your clit. Even at the slightest touch, you sigh and arch into his mouth. “More. Please, give me more.” Your pleas are sweet. So sweet that he’s no longer interested in teasing. He repeats the movement of his tongue but this time uses the flat of it to press firmer against your sensitive bud. You cry out, thighs closing tightly around his head. Sandor grunts, his arms sliding under your legs. He curls them around your thighs and uses his hands to keep your legs apart. With your movements restricted, he smashes his mouth against your clit. His lips wrap around it and suck. You buck and manage to throw a leg over his shoulder. Your foot presses against his broad back, using it as leverage to grind your hips towards his mouth. He smirks, proud that he’s the one eliciting such a response from you. While it’s true he rarely spends his coin on whores, this skill was something he learned long before his days at King’s Landing. In his youth, there had been a servant girl who worked in the kitchens. They had grown up together and thus she hadn’t ever feared his burned face. Exploring one another's bodies had felt natural. That’s how Sandor became acquainted with the taste of women. Once upon a time, they might have been married…if Gregor hadn’t found out and killed her in a jealous rage. Sandor forces the past from his mind. There’s no use in it when he has your cunt filling his senses. He savors the taste on his tongue, using it to flick your clit while sucking on it. You continue to buck and cry out, the pleasure clearly building for you. But he doesn’t want you reaching your peak just yet. He moves away, only slightly. His saliva mixes with your slick. They drip together making you all the more wet. It’s a delicious sight.

“Messy thing,” he praises, and he can feel the way your toes curl against his back. “You know,” he continues, “I usually spend my nights drinking but you’ve interrupted that.” Purposely, he pauses, letting you think he’s actually upset. You whimper, ready to apologize but Sandor speaks over you, his voice huskier than before. “Are you going to make it up to me, girl? And give me something else to drink?” You stumble over your words but still manage to speak, “Y-Yes Master, anything.”

Sandor hums from the back of his throat and swipes your clit with his tongue before answering. “Then be a good little slut and cum on my tongue.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he runs his tongue to your slit, gathering more juices along the way. He probes your entrance before letting it fill you. You gasp in time with his moan. No longer can he taste the wine he was previously drinking. His taste buds are filled with nothing but your cunt. He vigorously pumps his tongue in and out of you. Your hands find his head, fingers tangle in hair in an attempt to tug him in deeper. “Fuckkkk, you’re so good with your tongue, Master!” Usually Sandor hates being touched without permission, but you’re so desperate it feels like he’d be committing a sin if he stopped you.

Besides, you’re dripping down his chin and giving him exactly what he wanted—a drink. But like a man starved, he wants more. He presses his thumb to your clit to stroke it. You throw your head back and sing. It’s the purest music he’s ever heard.

The louder you moan, the harder his cock throbs.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are your cries of pleasure and his grunts against your core.

It isn’t long before you start trembling, to the point that even your inner thighs shake.

“I…I’m going to–”

You don’t need to finish your sentence for Sandor to know that you’re about to cum. He doesn’t let up the movements of his tongue or the pressure to your clit but still you try to force words out of your mouth. “P-Please. Please can I–?” Realization flashes through him. You were asking for permission to cum. Why you think you needed to ask, Sandor doesn’t know, but Gods if it isn’t the most erotic fucking thing. He moves away just enough to speak. “Go on, girl. Give me what I want and cum.” His tongue plunges back into your depths and you spasm around it. When your orgasm hits, your entire body goes rigid and breathy, unrestrained moans bleed from your throat. His cock twitches wildly in response, precum surely dripping onto the stone floor he’s kneeling on. You’ve coated his tongue with your juices, making Sandor wonder if you’ll do the same to his cock. He works you through your aftershocks while drinking from you, licking up every drop he can. It's only when you fall limply back onto the mattress that he stops and removes his tongue and fingers from you. He sits back to look you over. You’re even more beautiful with a flushed face and glossed over eyes.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Rising onto the bed, he grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you towards him. His mouth crashes onto yours, forcing his tongue past your parted lips.

You return the kiss in a flurry of passion while your hands roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your kiss, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “Make me belong to you.” “I thought you already did,” he teases gruffly with his hot breath in your face. “You’re my property, remember?” Color blooms across your cheeks, but whether it’s in satisfaction or embarrassment, Sandor isn’t sure. “I am. I belong to you, Lord Hound. I’m your—” He barks over you, cutting you off. “What did I say about that ‘my lord’ shit?” You instantly close your mouth, lips pressing into a thin line at your mistake. Fucking hells. He wanted to fuck you, not scold you. Sandor lets out a breath and forces himself to soften his tone. “I don’t need fancy titles, my name is good enough.” Your expression falls, the color draining from your cheeks. “King Joffrey only referred to you as ‘The Hound’. Is…Is that not your name?” You look upset, bordering on mortified but Sandor can’t stop the gruff laugh that bubbles from his chest.

“I should have known that slimy little bastard would pull something like that.” You look thoroughly confused. His dark eyes look you over, your once pliable body now stiff as stone. However, it’s the ribbon of his house sigil that catches his attention. It doesn’t have the same appeal now that he knows you don’t know what it means. “And I’m guessing he didn’t tell you the meaning behind this?” he questions bitterly and starts untying it from around your neck. You shake your head ‘no’. “Just that it would please you to see me wear it.” He pulls the ribbon free, but before he can toss it away, you grip his large hand with both of yours. “Tell me? Please, Master, I want to know.” You ask so sincerely that it halts his movements. Your eyes meet, and all his willpower leaves him. “It’s the sigil for my house.” “House?” you prompt in hopes he’ll continue.

“Clegane.” You smile bright, repeating after him so you could lock the information away forever. Sandor, on the other hand, is too distracted by the new rush of blood that pumps down to his groin. When he doesn’t say anything else, you squeeze his hand gently. “And my Master’s given name?” “Sandor.” “Sandor.” You take your time saying it, as if tasting his name on your tongue. “Sandor Clegane,” you whisper with a smirk, noticing how he starts leaning in closer. He doesn’t stop, forcing you to shift your position and slowly lay back onto the bed. “Master Sandor.” You moan and he growls. Your legs part to accommodate him and he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. “You don’t need to call me Master.” Your smirk widens. “But you like it when I do.” He huffs because you’re right. “Fucking vixen,” he snarls and kisses you hard. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and your legs hike up to his hips, allowing his cock to press against your core. You’re still so warm and wet that it’s almost painful to not plunge himself inside. And maybe he would have if you hadn’t been so smug just now. “Beg,” he commands, while the hand not holding him up grips your neck. “And tell your Master what you want.” His fingers wrap effortlessly around your throat. He doesn’t do this to hurt you, just to apply enough pressure so you know who’s in charge. To his surprise, you moan and tilt your head back to give him better access. “That’s better,” he coos and rewards you by running his tongue from your jawline to the shell of your ear. “Brat just needed to be put back in her place, didn’t she?” His hot breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” “Then prove it.” He gives your throat another squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll behave, I swear.” Your hands run from his forearms, over his muscular shoulders and down his chest until the swell of your breasts are pressed against him. “I just want my Master to claim me. Want to feel him inside.” You pause and rock your hips forward to grind your cunt against his length. “Please, Sandor? Please fuck me.” It’s his name that does him in. He isn’t used hearing it, let alone someone saying it while asking him to fuck them. He straightens his back and guides your legs to fully wrap around his waist. You continue pleading but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full but also whole.

“Is this what you wanted, girl? To be speared on my cock and used?” “Yes!” you cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “Please use me. Ruin me for anyone else.”

At that, he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming and twisting your fists into the bedsheets. There’s no way he could keep his pace slow, not when you feel this good melting around his cock.

You had said you wanted to be ruined. Sandor Celegane might not be a lord, or a knight, or a gentleman, but he could most certainly ruin you with his cock.

He repositions your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so that your feet are by his ears. He’s able to fuck you even deeper now, his balls smacking against you with every brutal thrust.

His rhythm is rough and steady. And with how tightly he holds your legs in place, you can do nothing but lay there moaning and clenching around him.

“You’ll never forget this. When the next flimsy little knight comes along to fuck you, it’ll be my cock you think about.”

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling your cunt and taking over your mind and body. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. But a nod isn’t good enough.

“Say. It,” he snarls, punctuating his words with even deeper thrusts. You curl your toes with a whine. “It’ll be your cock, Master! Only your cock.” “Mhmm, good girl.” He looks down at where your bodies are joined and sees his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He reaches between your bodies and easily finds your clit. He rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breathing, rubbing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now. ”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way.

He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. It’s too much and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. Like a cat having their head scratched, an almost purring like sound leaves you at the feeling of him filling you with his seed. It has Sandor feeling dazed as to why that would please you, but his focus is on steadying his breathing as he comes down from cumming for the first time in fuck knows how long. Your breathing is also labored, while your eyes struggle to stay open. It’s clear you’re fighting off sleep. He carefully slips out of you, even more careful not to jostle you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He finds his wineskin from earlier by the foot of the bed. Greedily, he drinks from it until his throat no longer feels dry. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of your naked form. If he was this thirsty, then your throat must be raw after all that screaming. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. You whine, eyes fluttering open, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. “Here, this will help soothe your throat.” He hands you the wineskin, which you graciously take. Sandor watches you take long, slow sips. A drop slips past your mouth and drips down your chin to land on your breast. He grins. He likes a woman who doesn't mind getting dirty. You’re just as beautiful now as you were when he first walked in to you demurely sitting on the floor. “Will you tell me your name?”

You lower the wineskin from your lips and say it with a smile. This time it’s he who repeats you, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. You nod, smiling at him before taking another drink. He stands and starts making his way to the basin of water set on a small table in the corner of the room. “Drink as much as you like. I can get more,” he says from over his shoulder as he starts washing away the sweat on his chest and the slick that you’ve managed to coat even his balls in. Afterwards, he puts on a pair of lightweight sleep pants. When he turns back to you, he expects to find you still drinking or dressing, but instead he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your nightclothes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Sandor grunts under his breath, he should have known this wouldn’t last. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The bite in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His brows pull together in confusion, “Joffrey didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. That angers him. Joffrey was a callous shit but to leave you with nothing was just cruel. “No personal belongings? How the fuck did he expect you to get home after this?” You flinch, once again looking away. “The King said….” you trail off. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort radiates off of you. Quietly, he fishes out a clean shirt out of a trunk at the end of the bed and makes his way over to you. “Arms up, Little One.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey and he slips the shirt over your head and helps you dress. “This damn thing is going to look more like a dress on you, but it’ll do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Sandor is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and he continues. “Do you know why they call me ‘The Hound’?” You stare at him in fascination and shake your head. “Because I can smell a lie as easily as I can breathe. So out with it. What’s upsetting you?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “King Joffrey told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he bought me from the keeper of the pleasure house. He…” You falter, trying to find the bravery to continue. “He said that if you didn’t wish to keep me once we were through, that he’d pass me around to his other guards until they used me up. Or that maybe he’d kill me himself.” Rage boils in his blood. Not only because Joffrey put you through hell, but because he suddenly can’t bear the thought of another having you. “No one is going to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” Sandor nearly chokes because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew is that he didn’t want Joffrey or any other to get their hands on you. “Is…Is that what you want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Well don’t go making it sound like it’ll be all sunshine and lemoncakes. I’m not by any means a joy to live with and—” But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you, Sandor,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable. No one had ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it. The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone. He likes the way it feels having you close. It makes him feel things. Things he doesn’t have a name for. You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked against his chest.

There was no way of knowing what the future held, but Sandor Celange did know one thing….. This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

#sandor clegane #not mine #holy hell 😮‍💨

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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The only thing worse than there not being any fics for a character is there not being any gay fics for that character

#especially when that character is so obviously gay/bi

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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Alright working on something for this fuck, hope you like

#the grabber #horror fanfic #slasher fanfic #I know he’s not a slasher but this will definitely appeal to the same audience

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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Requests are still open, even though I’m drowning in WIPs

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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hi! could you please do The grabber x gn reader but prompts 74 and 66 on that list?🫣

LORD i read this immediately and i love this, thank you sm🙏🙏 youre a godsend oml, and ofc i can do gn reader, everybody deserves a chance w him fr

requests r open, masterlist is up :)

The Grabber X Gn Reader!

no specific gendered parts are mentioned, any gender can read & hopefully enjoy!!

Warnings: Nsfw, Humiliation ( kink? ), Degradation, Thigh Riding, Dom Grabber

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Your breathing was quiet as you laid still on the mattress, finally waking up after falling asleep for hours on end. The only thing you remembered was being carried down here on his back, a harsh grip around your body, and a weak feeling overall, like you were drugged- or injured & weak from exhaustion.

Your body was still aching, sore from some unknown cause, it hurt just to move. However, the metal door that stood before you opened, and you figured that it would be better to see what you could find out from him, than to be left curious. Maneuvering yourself up on your elbows, you caught a peculiar sight. The man who'd abducted you, brought you down here roughly, was disheveled, cardigan open, displaying his chest, seeming in a rush, or maybe anticipating something? Whatever it was, it caused his movements to be swift, closing the door behind him, before turning on his heels to face you. Backing up to the frigid wall behind you, your eyes wandered, anywhere else than him, and what you saw next made you even more curious. A chair sat delicately against the wall near you, its purpose not yet shown, but you concurred it was for watching you sleep,

how romantic.

Footsteps filled the silent room, and your eyes slammed shut, anxious for what you'd feel next, but all you heard was dragging, going on for only a few moments before ending.

"Open your eyes. Shutting them will only make it harder for the both of us."

Hearing the rigid voice, you slowly opened one eye, examining the room. The voice was found to be in the middle of the room, your captor sat on the mentioned chair, legs spread, peering down at you hungrily. His voice was raspy, demanding, and you were petrified, but a tingling sensation came to you in your stomach when you saw him, and you felt terrible for feeling like that.

You were currently pressed against the wall, eyes focused on him. He stuck his arm out, beckoning you with a finger to move towards him, mocking you. Carefully, you moved towards him, staying just on the mattress for your own precautions. He watched you the entire time, eyes trained on you, and seeing you stop just on the edge made him sigh, leaning his head back.

"You know these walls are soundproof, we're going to put that to better use today, just me and you."

He leaned forward, back bent, elbows on his knees while his head was closer to you.

"Now be good for me, and come over here."

He wasn't asking, but commanding you to move over towards him, you knew he wasn't patient. Your body stood up, taking slow strides to him, leaving you right at his knees, awaiting his next move. You knew what you felt was terrible, you were afraid, but you liked it, you were excited to be humiliated & degraded by him. You felt yourself get more aroused just thinking about it, shame & pleasure coming at you. His hand made its way up your body, starting st your hip, pulling you closer to him, stopping once it reached your jaw, holding it tightly, painfully.

"Do you remember what you did earlier?"

Trying to remember only gave you an intense headache, and making an effort not to waste time, you shook your head. In return, he gave you a heavy laugh, amused.

"Really? It was awfully costly on my end, but I will admit, I hit you pretty hard, so I'll make this quick."

His grasp on your jaw heightened in pain, and his other hand began digging into your pants, pulling at the seam of your underwear.

"You hurt me, gave me a little wound of my own. Had a little outburst upstairs, ring any bells?"

You knew he wasn't going to wait for an answer, so you stayed quiet, eyes diverting themselves from him. He sucked in harshly.

"Look at me. For that, I've set up a punishment for you, something I will enjoy. Now sit, like the good pet you are."

He pulled you down onto his leg, forcing you to get in a nice position, facing him. It was like you were on display for him, looking all nervous yet desperate for him, he devoured it. He could feel you on him, which made him emit a breathy sigh before giving you his next rule.

"You're going to do most of the work here, I can feel how you want this. I know you can cum like this, so you might want to get to work, love."

He left you with silence. Your body was growing hotter, anxious to even move on him, but with a slight growl from him, and a quick spank, you began to ease your hips on him, back and forth at a steady pace. His leg was sturdy, able to easily support your weight. Your hands hung around his shoulders, allowing you to keep your balance as you rode him. The only thing you had on was your under, but he had his pants on, you knew your cum would leak onto him, staining his clothing, but thinking of that only made you needier. Your hips started to go slightly faster, rubbing your sensitive part slightly harder, hitching your breath, heart beating faster. Soon enough, you started to whimper for him, the more you were able to fuck yourself on him, the more he laughed at you, degrading you.

"Look at how desperate you are for me, pathetic."

"What a pitiful sight, you fucking yourself on my leg because I won't touch you."

His words made your face heat up with embarrassment, even as you gripped his shirt harder so you could buck your hips to please yourself more, you grew wetter as he said it, thighs clenching his leg even harder, just to hit your sweet spot. You whined more as you got closer, the sensation coming over you.

Your movements became sporadic, letting you fall into him as the shaking mess you were. The nearer you came to the end, the more wanting your moans became, filling his ears as he spoke to you.

"You're going to cum right on my leg? Then get on with it. Prove to me that you're my obedient pet. I want you to look at me, knowing just who you belong to, that you came because of me."

Even as weak as you were, you shamefully looked him in the eyes, and you could see the grin he had, his eyes taking in your erratic figure, spasming on his leg, and whining in his ear. He held your face as you orgasmed, keeping eye contact just to see the way your pretty face falls under his gaze, reluctant to show him your eager face. His ears filled with your heavy gasps, all out of breath, enjoying seeing how hard you worked, how you followed exactly what he said.

Just as he wanted, he felt his pants becoming soaked with your pleasure, evidence of how urgently wanted him, showing him that you needed him. He smiled at your tired body, rubbing your back, biting your neck since you leaned into his shoulder.

Anytime he wore these pants after, he would be reminded of what a good darling you are for him, ensuring you two would take advantage of your time together later yet again.

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lord another late night release, but i havent edited or spellchecked this so i hope itsss,, good, or atleast a nice read LMFAO

requests r openn, masterlist is up!!

#the grabber #not mine #hiiiiiii

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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i know you havent written for doomhead in a while but i found one of your older imagines posts and i was wondering if you could perhaps write something for doomhead with a blasphemy kink? him as a priest or anything like that. thank you and have a nice day <3

ABSOLUTELY!!! I LOVE this request; Blasphemy is kind of ✨My Thing✨ so I was really excited to write this!! It’s been a while since I’ve written in Imagine Format, so I apologize if the pacing is a bit awkward. It does start a little slow, building up to WHY Doomhead is a Priest now, and why The Reader crossed paths with him.

Summary: Doomhead has to relocate following a loss at 31, ends up masquerading as a Priest in a small town. Reader is the Survivor of 31, who skipped town because she thinks that if she told the truth, no one would believe her and she’d be arrested for the murders of her band mates. Reader of course ends up at the same town as Doomhead.

Content Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, Blasphemy Fetish(of course), Implied sex

Fake Priest!Doomhead X Survivor!Reader Imagines

Blasphemy Kink

• This was the kind of conclusion to The Yearly Festivities he hated most; wholly unsatisfying without so much as a glimpse of the last target’s face. No fun when they’re too good at hiding.

• To top it all off, this of course meant he had to go on the move again; after all, he hadn’t seen them, but he’d bet the sneaky little rat wouldn’t forget the sight of him. Probably went straight to a Police Sketch Artist...he had to reinvent himself if he wanted to keep doing what he does best...go someplace no one would ever expect.

• He was wrong though. You, the Sole Survivor of that year’s game of “31”, didn’t go to the Police...you didn’t go to anyone. Who would believe you? At best you’d be institutionalized for your “Delusions”, at worst...well, you’d be damned if you were going to give that pompous shitdick judge the opportunity to look you in the eye and charge you with the murder of your band mates.

• It wouldn’t be too big a leap; it was no secret that you’d been at each others’ throats for months now. No one would care enough about a group of small-time musicians to actually care about the truth.

• No, it was best that you “died” with them. Getting a fake ID was easy enough, now you just had to find a new place to start over...

• When you finally felt like you were far enough from home that no one would recognize you, you stopped at a town off the highway...way way out in the middle of nowhere.

• The people seemed friendly, but not friendly enough to bother asking questions, and that suited you fine. It wasn’t exactly what you were used to, but that’s kind of the point isn’t it? This little haystack hick town would be the absolute last place anyone would expect to find you...if anyone bothered to look in the first place.

• You weren’t exactly the most religious, but in small towns like these churches tend to have their grubby little hands on just about every aspect of life; you figured they’d be your best shot at finding someone to point you in the right direction as far as a job goes-shit, maybe they could help you into some cheap housing. You really weren’t picky at this point; hard to feel safe sleeping in your van after Satan’s little Halloween Party.

• Besides, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten; and Sunday Morning Services tend to conclude with coffee and doughnuts, so it was unlikely to be a total bust.

• It was unseasonably warm, so you were able to slip near silently into the building through the propped-open door; settling neatly into a pew in the back row where it would be easy enough to wait out the God Talk.

• You had intended on ignoring the sermon, maybe even sneaking a little nap, but the Priest’s voice carried through the echoing halls with a flourish reserved for men who love to hear themselves talk.

• He was more performing than preaching, the rhythm of his voice doing absolutely nothing to lessen the lewd undertones of Solomon’s “Song of Songs”. You had heard it plenty of times when you were made to attend church as a child, and if it was genuinely written about Capital-G God like the Priests say, then God had a seriously nice set of tits.

• You took notice of the old ladies in the front row nodding along; no doubt this was the highlight of their day...not that anyone wants to admit to being hot for the Preacher.

• When it came time to take communion, you fell in line with the rest of the community, receiving a few sideways glances. Not that you really faulted them for it, you were after all, a bedraggled stranger.

• When you get close enough to the alter to really see the Priest your heartbeat quickens; something deep and primal within you begs you to tuck tail and run, but by the time you will your legs to function it’s your turn.

• The Priest smiles at you, almost smugly, and bids you kneel at the velvet alter; you think you must be imagining the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

• You do as he asks, too deep now to decline without looking odd to the townspeople.

• You look up at him helplessly as his hand cups your face a bit too tenderly, a shameful heat pooling between your thighs when his thumb coaxes your mouth open. He tips the silver chalice to your lips just long enough to give you a taste of horribly dry wine.

• Your instinct is to recoil with a gag, remembering the awful church wine of your youth, but he doesn’t let you go, gazing down at you expectantly with the communion wafer pinched between his long fingers.

• It feels indecent the way he’s looking at you, and you can’t help but feel as though he gets off on this, the Power Imbalance of his position. You can’t help feeling like Prey under his predatory eyes, but you were never one for reverence.

• You let your tongue slip out, just a bit more than necessary; teasing if he’s hot for this, hardly noticeable if you’re wrong. You shudder as he presses the wafer to your tongue, holding it there a bit longer than he has to while his eyes threaten to drown your own in their intensity.

• “Partake of the Body of Christ, and May his Peace fill you with Salvation,” he says as his fingers slip from your mouth.

• “Amen,” you say, according to custom, face flushed from the sultry tone of his voice.

• You gather yourself, mentally dressing yourself now that his gaze has left your form as you hurry back to the pew; your fellow churchgoers none the wiser in regards to the indecency of your exchange; perhaps you’re the one imagining things.

• Once the service is over, and your teeth are cracking the glaze on a delicious locally supplied doughnut, you feel a firm hand cup your shoulder.

• “Coming home, or passing through?”

• The Priest’s voice catches you off guard, the warm twang piercing through you and making you shiver.

• He explained that he himself was a recent arrival, and that it is a pleasure to meet someone else who plans on making this...quaint little town home.

• You can’t help but feel like he’s studying you, appraising, looking for something he won’t say out loud. “You seem awfully nervous in a House of God.”

• You admit to him that you haven’t been to church in quite some time; you only came because you need help, and you’re not sure where else to go.

• You meant material assistance; shelter, a job, but his gaze pierces you where you stand. “Yes, of course. The Church, such that it is, can aid you with those things...However, Confessional is always open for matters of the Soul.”

• You sleep in the Church that night, a cot made up for you in the room where the extra books are kept; you feel safer than you have since you escaped that Hell Hole...and yet you can’t fall asleep.

• The Priest’s words and strange nature claw at you, and you begin to wonder if maybe you should Confess; Priests are forbidden to speak of what they hear in confessional, right? You never were one for Religion; your family spoiled that for you, but you did make it out of that twisted game alive, and only a little wounded...relatively speaking...maybe there was a higher power looking after you.

• Maybe you were just lucky.

• Your chest tightens as you reach for the handle on the small wooden door; you were never claustrophobic, but after squeezing into such a tight space and waiting out the Killer Clowns for a painful three hours, you’re a bit on edge entering the tiny candle lit room.

• You apologize, unsure of what you’re even supposed to say. You know there’s specific rules to them; but like much of your childhood, those memories have been blocked out for a long time.

• “Bless Me Father, for I have Sinned.”

• His voice startles you, making your heart pound. You hadn’t honestly expected anyone to actually be sitting in the booth this late, and the whisky smoothness of his voice reminds you of your sinful thoughts during communion. You’re glad he can’t see the flush to your cheeks.

• “Bless me Father, for I have Sinned,” you repeat, trying to still your racing heart. “You...you can’t share this information with anyone, right? Whatever I say is between us?”

• “Between us and God,” he replies, almost cheekily.

• “Right,” you sigh, satisfied that this won’t come back to bite you in the ass.

• In truth, he believes you’re about to confess your lust for him, and he’s already thinking up all the ways he wants to disgrace your body in the eyes of a fairy tail god. He plans on sweet talking you, assuring you that your desires are a gift from ‘The Lord’. He wants to make you his private whore, a secret ‘between us and God’...Your actual confession hits him like a club to the chest.

• You tell him all about 31, the grizzly deaths you witnessed, how you mercy killed your band’s keyboardist after finishing off the fucker who put a chainsaw through her gut; how you skipped town, and how you’re absolutely terrified the cops wouldn’t believe you if you tried to fess up. All is silent, and for a moment you’re terrified you’ve grossly misjudged the sanctity of Confessional, and soon you’ll be locked up at the police station...

• You reach for the door handle, attempting to make your escape, skip town like you did your home, but to your surprise the door is ripped open, and the Priest forces his way inside, clicking the lock shut behind him.

• He’s too tall to stand fully in the little room, and your body is crushed against the wall, knee bent awkwardly against the wooden bench seat.

• His hand’s around your throat, his breath hot against your ear. “Well well, Sweet Eurydice, you escaped The Underworld, but it seems as though Orpheus looked back. Do you remember me?”

• Your chest aches from the torturous pounding of your heart, sheer terror enveloping your senses. You hadn’t seen much from your hiding place in 31; your glasses broken and blood dripping into your eyes, but in this moment, trapped in Confessional with the man, there’s no question as to who he is.

• You remember hearing those horrible people announce him from your hiding spot. “Doomhead,” you whisper, because that’s what they called him. You remember watching him gut your Bassist, taking his sweet time setting up a gruesome sculpture for the others to find. You also remember him going absolutely mad trying to find you after he had killed the others; and the way he threw a fit after ‘Game Over’ was called.

• “You cost me a pretty penny...see, I don’t win, I don’t get paid. The folks up top pay me a lot of scratch to do what I do best...but only if I get the job done.”

• You shudder, struggling against him to no avail. You are going to die here.

• He squeezes your neck a couple of times to get your attention, as though he had ever lost it. “Easy girl; it’s too late now, game’s over. I kill you now and all I get is a mess to deal with. I don’t need to kill you, you said it yourself you can’t go to the cops.”

• “Then what the fuck do you want from me?” You choke out.

• He catches your ear between his teeth, just a bit too roughly, and you gasp. “You were pretty bold on the Alter today,” he muses, his free hand fiddling with the button on your jeans. “I want to make you see Jesus.”

• You’re not sure whether to be disgusted with yourself or relieved that the terror you feel is giving way to your earlier lust, but you make a decision.

• Fuck it.

• Before he has a chance to react, you grab the back of his hair and yank, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

• “Bless Me Father for I am About to Sin.”

• A maniacal grin splits across his face, his fingers finding their way into your pants. “A-fucking-Men.”

I’m thinking about actually writing this out into at least a One Shot fic (full smut; not ending where the Imagine ended); let me know if you(or anyone) are interested in a full fic!

#I saw in the notes that you weren’t gonna make this a full one shot but you gotta know #I am fucking obsessed with this #doomhead #not mine

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

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Listen man if you’re posting underage shit I’m gonna block you. Please don’t interact with this blog.

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jelly-drabble · 1 year

Text

(Updated) Commission Post

I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, so I’m opening commissions again!

Contact info:

DM/ask here Or Twitter: @JellyDrabbles

Price:

$20 per hour Or $5 for a ficlet (up to 500 words)

I accept Paypal and CashApp. I also have a ko-fi.

What I will write:

Smut (ask for specific kinks), fluff, cannon x cannon, cannon x reader, cannon x oc, horror. If it’s not here, ask!

Also, see my pinned post for who I write for. And again, if it’s not there, feel free to ask me about it!

What I won’t write:

R*pe, underage, piss/fecal/vomit, racism

#reblogging again bc I’m still getting requests #which is great and I do appreciate them but comms motivate me to write more just sayin

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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Coyote (Mick Taylor x Reader)

This was a commission for @skeltide my buddy who RUDELY got me invested in this Aussie Hillbilly fucK.

This fic isn't too complicated, it's just porn. Reader has a vagina but no other gendered terms or parts are described.

Word count: 6468

It was hard to believe that only a few short hours earlier, the now cool, dark wilderness around you had been the scorching wasteland that caused you so much issue. First, it stuck you in a car with some not-so-close friends for several hours, then it made you hike across its barren desert with said friends. Finally, it seemingly sucked the life out of your car as it now was essentially scrap. As if it was in any good shape to begin with. Still, the night could have ended far worse given that this unforgiving country also delivered to you a guardian angel of sorts. Albeit one clad in red plaid and jeans older than you, but you figured not all angels needed a robe or spinning rings embedded with eyeballs. While your friends, more university acquaintances who treated you slightly better than dirt, were unsure of taking the help this man offered, you accepted with open arms. It was better than sitting in a swiftly cooling car all night. Despite his altruism, your buddies still mocked the man with coy backhanded compliments. As if they thought this hillbilly was too dumb to know when he was being insulted. You stayed quiet, speaking up now and again to try and reprimand them to no avail. Still the man, who had introduced himself as Mick, took it in stride throwing a few curse ridden insults back at them.

Now you were sat at a rather cosy fire pit outside of what you assumed to be his humble abode, sipping tea and enjoying the calm of the night. While the others had drifted off some time ago, you weren’t nearly as tired as they were for whatever reason. You chalked it up to how crazy the day had been so far and thought nothing of it, enjoying the fire as it crackled and sputtered before you. Looking straight up into the night sky was almost dizzying given the vast expanse of stars that stretched out before you. Out here in the middle of nowhere in one of the largest land masses on the planet, there was little light pollution to ruin your view. That, along with the lack of tall buildings in the way, meant you felt entirely enveloped by the nature around you as it seemed to stretch on forever. Just looking out into that desert felt daunting, the nearest landmark being so far in the distance it was nearly out of sight. This was the only reason you put up with this road trip in the first place. It wasn’t to have some adventure with people you barely knew, it was for the peace of being almost entirely alone aside from the stars, the desert and the animals that inhabited it. Given his scruffy appearance and rugged exterior, you considered Mick as one of those animals that inhabited this desert.

“Almost too pretty to burn, ain’t it!” His loud, booming voice was suddenly right behind you followed quickly by a large hand smacking your shoulder. It caught you off guard and you did your best not to yelp as to avoid waking the others. Mick’s accent was so thick it took you a few moments to fully process what he had said at first. As he plopped down in the folding chair beside you, it clicked and you were finally able to answer in spite of your still racing heart.

“Yeah it’s really red isn’t it?” You asked rhetorically, watching as Mick cracked open a beer. Taking a swig of it, he then tilted it towards you offering a taste. While you were usually more picky about your beer, you had decided to live a little on this vacation. You thanked him and reached out to grab the bottle. Mick snatched it away quickly before wagging a finger at you, clicking his tongue in mock reprimand. You were only confused a moment before he brought the bottle up to your mouth himself. Holding back a nervous giggle you allowed him to press the bottle’s lip to yours, tilting your head back in time and finally feeling the carbonated swill pour into your mouth. As Mick pulled away he caught your gaze and you quickly glanced away trying not to show how flushed you were. The beer was subpar at best yet the act itself was enough to make you want more.

“I gotta make sure you don’t drink too much, ay. It’s my beer after all.” Mick quipped with a wolfish grin. He chuckled in his throat like some mischievous troll, yet you couldn’t help how giddy you felt. While Mick was no model, his charisma pulled you in a little too easily. You laughed along with him, hoping the warm light from the fire was enough to mask your probably pink cheeks.

“Anyways, this wood will burn for bloody hours if it’s dried right. It's this stuff called jarrah, can’t get it anywhere else but here in Australia.” Mick started rambling on about the wood and its benefits. Apparently both abundant and beautiful, it’s used frequently across western Australia. You took in some of it, however you admittedly weren’t paying much attention. In between facts about native Australian lumber, your mind was flooded with all manner of thoughts. Primarily surrounding Mick’s arms, his hair, his tattoos and, ultimately, just Mick himself. How he had managed to charm you so quickly, you’d never know, and right now you didn’t care to find out.

Your eyes raked over his torso when you could, taking in the deep golden tan that only further contrasted the dark, greying body hair. He wore a button down, red plaid shirt but left it entirely unbuttoned allowing you to see the black tank top underneath. That body hair spilled out over the neckline of his top as well as covering his forearms. It looked soft yet you knew it wouldn’t be, more likely to be coarse and scratchy. It didn’t stop you from wanting to get your hands in it. Trailing further up you noticed a circular scar, make that two, on his throat. As if something had gone straight through his neck and managed not to kill him. You almost wanted to ask but you decided not too. You figured it’s just one more scar among many on this man’s body. Mick removed his hat at some point, an old, scuffed up leather slouch hat that had definitely seen better days and many, many hours of Australian midday sun. It let you see his face and hair more clearly. While still fairly dark, the large streaks of grey swirled in with it rather gracefully. It was swept back from his face and looked a bit longer in the back and connected directly with the grey mutton chops that shaped his face in lieu of a strong jawline. You fantasised briefly about sliding your fingers into his hair, but tried not to let it develop too far lest you start going beet red.

As if he was reading your mind, Mick set his beer down a moment only to slip off the button down he had been wearing. Every article of clothing he wore looked seedy and heavy with sweat and years of grime being only somewhat washed out. That included the black tank top he was now left in. Mick retrieved his beer, took a swig of it and readjusted his crotch none too subtly before getting comfortable again. It should have grossed you out entirely, killing whatever mood you had been in. Yet here you were, eyes raking over his now bare arms taking in any detail you could.

“You wanna know about me tattoos?” The question caught you off guard and you finally snapped out of whatever stupor you were in to process it.

“Y-yeah! They look cool, when did you get them?” You did your best to make casual conversation, hoping it was enough to cover up your ogling. At least now you had a reason to be staring at his arms. He was clearly no gym rat, yet you’d prefer getting into a fight with some barbell bound himbo than Mick. He looked strong from a life of hard work and physical labour in the sun, and every small movement of his arms made the muscles under that tan skin twitch and flex. Even the soft gut he sported looked dense enough that punching him there might break a hand. If not a finger or two. You only allowed your gaze to travel a bit lower, grazing over his groin as he sat with his knees wide open and his feet hooked over one another. Even his legs looked strong, his thighs nicely filling out his jeans. His stocky build and above average height made him a formidable foe, yet you weren’t exactly imagining how he could use his strength to fight you. Even if your thoughts still ended in you being pinned down. Mick let out another rumbling chuckle at your question.

“Aww I can’t go givin’ away my age! I can tell ya I had bald spots on me arms for weeks after these two-” he held out his forearms, showing the two tattoos on each one. His left forearm was decorated in what looked to be some sort of winged creature, the other a dagger that ran from elbow to wrist. Both were heavily faded due to all the sun exposure and age. They were also muddied by all the hair that now grew over them. “Kept gettin’ made fun of until the bloody hair grew back! They called me Patchy!” Mick continued, exaggerating the insult and making you giggle. God, did you really just giggle? Maybe it was something he put in your tea that made you so open to him. Maybe you just had strange taste in men. Whatever it was, you adored the coy smile that stretched across Mick’s face upon hearing your laughter.

“An’ that rifle ain’t the only guns I got, either!” Now properly laughing in a harsh rasp, Mick stood up and made a show of flexing his biceps to show you the tattoos on them. One side was a hawk, the other a heavily faded rose by the looks of it. You barely registered them as you let a nervous giggle run through you again. Watching him flex should have been funnier but you couldn’t help wanting to stare at the way his muscles moved under that sun-kissed skin. The light sheen of sweat over his body caught the flickering light of the fire just right, adding to this hillbilly’s appearance. Plopping down beside you again Mick let out a final chuckle before downing the last of his beer. The half mug of tea you had went cold long ago and you almost felt bad given he had made it specifically for you. All the others had drank from some massive tub of rainwater while Mick had insisted on making you tea. “Sun brewed!” he had claimed, which made sense given he pulled the tea kettle from off the tin roof of his shack. You had to admit, it wasn’t bad at all. Just that your view of Mick was better. Taking a sip you tested how good it was cold and figured it was fine enough before downing the rest of it.

“That’s gunna keep you up all bloody night! That tea’s got more caffeine than coffee does.” Mick teased, chuckling at your decision to down the half full mug. Well, that would explain why you’re up still and your friends passed out an hour ago. You shrugged, returning his laugh. While checking for the last drops of tea in your mug you suddenly felt Mick’s presence as he leaned toward you from his chair. He placed his elbow on your arm rest allowing him to get even closer. You only pulled away a little bit allowing Mick to get as close as he wanted. You were definitely blushing now.

“And what precisely do you plan on doing all night, huh?” That wolfish grin was back, as well as a quieter tone from Mick, “Plan on staying up all night with your Uncle Mick, hm?” He let out another throaty chuckle, clearly trying to mock you. Yet every word from his mouth sent a wash of heat through your body. Not only were you hot with embarrassment, blood was quickly rushing towards your groin. You opened your mouth to answer and ended up just closing it again as you had no good answer. Instead, you ended up gawking at him like a fish pulling another loud, raspy cackle from him. Plucking the mug from your hands he tossed it off to the side, no longer caring where it went or what was in it. That same hand was back in an instant, cupping your chin in an almost too tight grasp and closing your mouth for you in the process.

“You really think I wouldn’t notice you starin’ at me like that? Practically fuckin’ drooling.” His thumb moved to swipe over your lips, picking up the tiniest bit of saliva from them before leaning in and licking it from his thumb. It was so close to your face he might as well have licked you directly. His teeth were yellow and clearly fucked beyond repair but you didn’t care. The blood that powered the part of your brain that thought tooth decay was gross was currently in your cunt. His tongue was wet and thick and watching it slide over anything gave you terribly lewd ideas on what to do with him. As if he’d let you do whatever you want to him.

That thumb slid back over your lips, pressing gently. You needed no other prompts and allowed him to slide his thumb into your mouth. Wrapping your mouth around it you let your tongue run over it, testing the waters of how much you could do. He gave you another throaty chuckle mixed with a low groan.

“Good lord, you really want it don’t you?” He teased, his own voice getting lower again. While you were embarrassed to admit it, you realised it was just the two of you right now. Nodding you sucked a little harder on his thumb getting as much of it in your mouth as you could before hitting knuckles. His skin was salty and his hands filthy but you ignored it, making a show of what you could do with your mouth and tongue. Another low groan from Mick and another readjustment of his crotch, this time his hand lingered a bit longer, groping at his slowly growing erection. He caught your gaze flickering down to his other hand and the way it affected you. In an instant his thumb was pulled from your mouth and he was standing up from his seat.

You were barely given a second to worry that you had taken this too far before he stood in front of you, his long legs easily straddling yours and allowing him to tower over you. His crotch was now face level and while you wanted to look up at him from here just to see him peering down at you, you were intensely distracted. He lazily grabbed at his cock through his jeans using his other hand to tangle into your hair, pulling you forward. He pressed your cheek into it, rubbing your face roughly against the worn fabric and what was underneath. The grin on his face melted into almost confusion when your own hands came up to settle on his hips, stabilising yourself as he rutted against your face. Mick figured you might get a bit squirrely about all this, yet seeing you melt into his touches no matter what they were sent heat pooling in his belly faster than anything. The last straw was when you let your tongue slide out of your mouth only to lathe over his cock. Even through his jeans, it felt warm and inviting. That look you gave him through your lashes certainly wasn’t helping either.

“Shit that’s nice…” He moaned under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear. You caught it nonetheless giving you a little boost of confidence. You did it again, doing your best to find the head of his cock through the fabric to focus your attention there. You added sloppy, open mouthed kisses to it, peeking up whenever you could. Feeling the thickness of his cock only made you want it more and you squirmed in place trying to relieve the growing pressure in your cunt. Pulling you back by your hair, Mick only let go a moment before stooping down and wrapping his arms around your waist. In one swift motion he had tossed you over his shoulder, forcing a soft yelp from you followed by almost involuntary giggling. You tried not to squirm too much, even though you doubted you could get out of his grasp anyway. Despite all the noise and commotion, your friends were still soundly passed out around the fire. You only noticed as it was the last thing you saw as Mick started walking away with you slumped over his shoulder. He gave your ass a swift smack, pulling another loud yelp from you and redirecting your attention to him again.

“Ohh yeah I’m gunna have some fun with you, little one.” Mick mumbled huskily, carrying you into his shabby little shack in the middle of the outback.

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The place was filthy and reeked of something rotting somewhere in the building. Maybe a lot of somethings rotting. Yet you barely had time to process it as he marched you through the house to his bedroom. The bed was far from ideal either; a shitty little cot with a single mattress and the roughest looking wool blanket you’d ever seen. Being tossed down onto it made it creak threateningly as if it was going to fall apart just by thinking about it too hard. Mick ignored all of it, instead entirely focusing on you and just how dressed you were. Slipping a bowie knife from its holster on his hip, he placed it on a small bedside table before removing the holster and his belt along with it.

“Hands out, sweetheart. Wrists together.” He ordered, briefly showing you what he wanted with his own hands. You did it quickly and he gave you that throaty laugh. Wrapping his belt around your wrists a couple times, he pulled the loops tight securing them together.

“That’s a good little whore. Keep being this obedient and Uncle Mick might just let you cum on his face.” Mick brought two fingers up to his lips, making a V and flicking his tongue between them lewdly. You blushed deep at the thought and only hoped he wasn’t kidding. Once your hands were bound you were shoved back onto the bed. Mick quickly grabbed your ankles and straightened you out. The ease with which he could manhandle you made you giddy. He started peeling off whatever layers you had, taking great joy in maintaining eye contact as he helped you squirm out of your clothes. That big grin barely ever left his face and the little swaying dance he did, including the humming of some tune in his head, while pulling your pants off you pulled more excited laughter from you. Your shirt was another story as your hands were bound. Crawling up onto the cot, Mick prowled his way over your body. He seemed bigger than before, hovering over you like a predator about to sink its teeth into a meal. Plucking the knife from the bedside table, a short pang of worry shot through you as you realised you were exceedingly vulnerable. His other hand slid up under your shirt, his head bowing to meet it as it revealed your warm skin. The open mouthed kisses he pressed along your belly made you wriggle under him, wanting so much more contact. That free hand moved from your shirt to your hip, pinning it quickly and keeping you still.

“Ah Ah sweetheart, calm down. Uncle Mick’ll take care of ya, I promise.” He drawled, his accent was almost thicker as heat flooded his system and his lips dragged over your torso. Rough stubble and facial hair scratched your skin pleasantly, only further exciting you as he moved up to your chest. Finally, he was face to face with you. His gold tanned skin only made those pale blue eyes stand out more, completely entrancing you with just a look. He held eye contact as he brought the knife right up to your neck, pressing the steel carefully against the thin flesh of your throat. It unnerved you slightly, but you stood your ground, tilting your chin up to give him better access. The groan you got from him made your skin tingle, wanting to shiver but holding back given the blade against your neck. Swiftly, Mick moved the knife away only to use it to slice through your shirt and its sleeves, pulling it off you as a scrap of fabric. Given it was just some old t-shirt, you didn’t care at all. With a loud thud you heard him embed the knife in the wall just behind the head of the bed and your arms jerked slightly with it. Peering up, you realised he had stuck the knife in through your impromptu belt bindings and secured it in the wall. While you could still probably get yourself free, you only tested your bindings a bit to be sure they weren’t too loose. When you were satisfied, you caught Mick’s piercing gaze again. He was chewing his lip idly, now kneeling over you, watching and admiring his work.

He now had you nude, aside from your underwear, laid out and bound up just for him. Normally he’d have to contend with a lot more thrashing and weeping, and while that normally turned him on anyway, he enjoyed your eagerness. The way you met his touches and whined for him had him harder than he’s been in a long time. While you hadn’t changed him at all, you were definitely a nice change for now. He let his hands drag over your body, musing at how pale you were in comparison to him. He cracked a joke about you looking like a ghost and you chuckled in response. That was quickly interrupted when his hands moved towards your inner thighs, rough calloused skin lighting your nerves on fire as they danced over your body. Messy kisses followed each touch, only serving to fan the fire you had raging in your groin at this point. Easily nudging your legs apart, Mick laid out awkwardly so he could settle his head between your thighs. Laying your legs over his shoulders, he revelled in nuzzling against the even softer skin of your inner thighs. Kissing, sucking and biting down wherever he could only pulled more noises from you. You tried to keep your eyes open so you could watch him down there, catching his gaze once as he peered up at you with those blue eyes. You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your cheeks, thinking he was just so handsome while pressing his lips to your still clothed cunt.

Letting his wide, short tongue slide out of his mouth he slowly licked over your cunt, tasting the slick that had soaked into your underwear. He only added to it by sucking down on your labia through them, ruining them further with his saliva. He kept this up all while his hands held your thighs in place, encouraging you to squeeze them around his head. Even with thin fabric between your cunt and his tongue, he might as well have been eating you out in earnest. You rocked your hips in time with his movements, trying not to flat out hump his face. Even if you thought he might like it if you did. Mick let out a low groan before peeling himself away from you, forcing your thighs open so he could pull away slightly. You took a moment to catch your breath, your hips moving on their own accord as they searched for any sort of touch. Mick was only too happy to accommodate, running his fingers along your cunt. Between your own wetness and his saliva your underwear were pressed flush with your cunt, making any touch that much more sensitive. Drawing lazy circles over your labia, he traced down between before moving back up towards your clit. The husky moans you gave him along with your eager squirming were apparently getting to be far too much for Mick to handle. Frustrated with your still present undergarment, he practically ripped it off your body, tossing them quickly under his bed for some other time. With another low groan he palmed his cock through his jeans again, wincing as he did. Pulling away more, Mick stepped off the cot a moment. You nearly whined at the loss of touch, but then you caught what Mick was actually doing.

Standing up he made quick work of his tank top, pulling it up over his head and tossing it into the mess of the room. He locked his eyes with yours as you watched him undo his jeans. You stared unabashedly now, taking in his now bare torso, or as bare as it could be when covered in hair. A soft gut and equally soft pecs all leading up to broad shoulders and muscular arms, generously covered in hair. While it tapered off over his belly, it focused back in towards his crotch leaving a dark, thick trail that led down beneath his underwear. You were entranced as he flicked open his fly just enough to show you the outline of his cock through his skivvies. They were nothing exciting, but the thick cock beneath them did more than enough for you. Stepping closer to the cot, he made a show of stroking it slowly, teasing you as long as he could muster.

“You’re hungrier than a bloody coyote, ain’t ya?” He mumbled huskily, his words so drawled out now you barely understood him. You spat out an embarrassingly needy ‘Yes’, your eyes never moving from the lump in his underwear. Mick gave you another throaty chuckle, making his way to the foot of the bed again. Crawling back up over you, he knelt between your legs now, propping your thighs up on his hips. Leaning over you fully, you were now in a far more compromising and promising position. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist, practically begging for it. Of course, this pulled even more troll like chuckles from Mick as he leaned in close to your neck. His scruff tickled as he sucked hickies into the sensitive skin there, one hand moving to the back of your head once again to tangle into your hair. His other hand did as it pleased, wandering your body and grabbing or pinching whatever fell between his fingers. Cradling your skull in his palm he kissed his way up your jaw before finally settling at your lips. Crashing his mouth into yours he held your head in place as if you’d try pulling away from this. You returned the kiss in earnest, meeting his sloppy, open mouthed motions. Mick groaned into the kiss, unceremoniously sliding his tongue into your mouth to graze over your teeth. He left behind the taste of coffee, liquor, smoke and God knows what else. You wanted to sink your fingers into his hair, pull him closer and hold onto him as he fucked you into the cot. With your hands bound, you could only arch your back and press your body into him, pulling him closer with your legs.

With a particularly hard pinch of your nipple you rolled your hips up into his, grazing his cock with your cunt and pulling a low groan from him. It felt far too good just to do once, so you tried it again, and again until you were practically humping him. Before it went on too long, Mick pulled away from the searing kiss and sat up again, holding your hips still with a grin on his face. He was gently panting, his face flushed red along his cheeks and down his chest.

“Fine then, you want it that badly…” Mick slipped his jeans off his legs enough to be able to move, finally pulling his underwear off with them. Settling himself between your legs again he laid his cock on your mound, letting you see just how deep he could get. While not monstrously long, he was still longer than average for sure and almost impossibly thick. Fully erect it felt heavy laying on your belly, the bright red tip already beginning to leak cum onto you. Tilting your hips up, he set his cock against your now bare labia. You were almost embarrassingly wet but you knew you’d need every bit of it to take what Mick was offering. “Then you can take it, you stupid little whore.”

Mick pressed forward more, slowly easing his cock into you. Despite how badly you wanted it and how wet you were, it was still a slow process trying to open you up enough to take him. Rocking your hips in time with him helped ease his cock deeper into you. You winced at the gradual sting that came with being stretched out so fully, but you were determined to get it to fit. A few shallow, far too slow thrusts later, Mick was mostly seated inside you. His brows furrowed in focus as he adjusted to how tight you were around his cock. Holding your hips even tighter, he started moving, thrusting shallowly and slowly at first. Your thighs fell open for him, wanting nothing more than to get more of his cock right now. With each thrust he sank in just a bit more as you relaxed more fully, now getting used to his size. The sting was melting away bit by bit, being quickly replaced by mind melting pleasure that only built as his pace did. You desperately wanted to watch him fuck you, yet each thrust was forcing your eyes closed. Once he got into a steady, fairly fast rhythm, you were having a hard enough time keeping your eyes from rolling back. Any control over the noises you were making was gone, now whimpering and moaning loud enough to fill the room, if not the house.

Mick peeled your legs off his waist only to lift them straight up, propping your knees on his shoulders again. Leaning over you, he adjusted the angle of his hips before he continued fucking you. The wet sounds of your cunt and sweaty skin hitting skin filled the room along with your renewed moans. From here the head of his cock was constantly bumping into your cervix, not enough to hurt thankfully, but more than enough to make you feel fuller than you had in a long time. Your legs twitched and squirmed over his shoulders before you managed to slip one out of his grip, bringing your knee up to your chest instead. He caught on quickly, groaning lowly as he pinned your knees against your chest, practically folding you in half and opening up your pussy more. The change in angle let him thrust deeper than before, sinking balls deep into you before slowly pulling out everything but the head. He paused only a moment, more to catch his breath than anything. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, afterall. However, hearing your needy moans as he depraved you of the cock you so badly needed right now had him sinking back into you quicker than he anticipated.

“Fu-uck sweetheart, you feel too good. Never had cock this good before, have ya?” He teased amongst his thrusts. Truthfully you don’t think you’d had dick quite this thick before, so you shook your head. You would have told him, but the only sounds you could make right now were closer to a mewling cat than an answer. You heard that same throaty chuckle from Mick again, getting closer to your ear as he leaned in. A few soft kisses to your shoulder were all you got as a warning before he bit down hard enough to make you yelp. It was drowned out quickly by the almost overwhelming feeling of his cock pounding into you.

“I didn’t fuckin’ think so. You’re all mine now, y’hear? All- Fu-uck- All mine.” Mick mumbled out between low rumbling groans. From where he was now you were sure you could cum from this alone, the length of his shaft grazing over your clit before pushing fully back into you. And with his shocking pace, you were getting there quickly too.

“Fuck! Ah Fuck Mick i’m- Ah God!” Trying to form full sentences was near impossible but you felt if you didn’t tell him you were close, he’d punish you for cumming without warning. As if you would dislike any punishment he dealt out, but that was beside the point.

“Aww, sweetheart, so soon?” Mick growled between panting breaths, his hips snapping forward with each movement. He was almost thankful you were close as watching you this entire time had worked him up quite a bit. He had a feeling he could wait it out just long enough to make you cum, but not much more than that. As if he’d ever tell you that. “We’re just getting started and- Agh Fuck! You’re already gunna cum for me?” Your pussy twitched around him as you got closer, somehow getting tighter around him than you already were. Mick’s thrusts slowed a moment as he readjusted slightly, just enough to get more leverage behind them before he started again, quicker than before. It barely took you any time before you were just teetering on the edge of orgasm, mouth hanging open as any noise or thought that came to your lips spilled out for Mick, and the rest of the house, to hear.

Mick didn’t even pause when you finally came, not caring too much about how much you enjoyed your orgasm and more chasing his own. You didn’t care one bit as it just allowed you to ride out your orgasm wave by wave as it washed over you. You thanked Mick over and over again, your body rocking in time with the shocks of pleasure that finally shook your system. It was only intensified by the fact he hadn’t paused his thrusts at all, however his grunts had gotten louder and far more frequent. They were now punctuated by more curses and his hips had started to stutter more. He paused only a moment to press his cock in as deep as he could, rolling his hips against yours causing his cock to rub against your cervix slowly.

“I’m gunna pump my load into this tight little cunt of yours, sweetheart.” He groaned breathlessly, moving his hand from holding your knee against your chest only to press his palm just above your hips. It pulled a choked moan from you as another surge of pleasure shot through you, intensified by Mick starting to thrust into you again quickly. He bucked into you a few more times before groaning loudly and slowing his pace significantly. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he pressed himself in as deep as he could, flooding your cunt with his cum. You chewed your lip, humming happily at the feeling and revelling in your own afterglow. Mick slowly rocked his hips a few times, moaning deeply as he did and adoring the feeling of your cunt twitching around his cock. He grabbed your legs and slowly stretched them out and you appreciated the slow unfurling after being in that position for so long. Mick ran his hands along them from your hips to ankles, laying them over his shoulders again and kissing them lazily. Finally, he let them rest on his hips again before he decided to finally pull out of you. The motion made you both moan and the wet sound that accompanied it made the action even more lewd than it had to be. You laid there entirely exhausted, body entirely slack and your pussy feeling terribly empty now. You felt his cum slowly seeping out of you, but given he was watching it happen with a soft grin on his face, you figured he didn’t care if it got on his bed.

Mick eventually got around to untying your hands, immediately locking lips with you again. He had sat you up now, your limbs loosely tangled together as he held you in his lap. He kissed you lazily, letting his tongue do most of the work. You finally got your hands on his body, letting them tangle into his hair and explore his sun-kissed skin. Mick barely pulled away, chortling like always.

“Still can’t get enough of me, huh? Even after all that?” He teased, his lips still grazing yours as he spoke. His breath was not the best but you expected nothing else from him honestly. You smiled, giggling along with him. You tried to pull away but Mick wouldn’t let you, pulling you in again for a more intense kiss, less tongue and far more tightly pressing his lips to yours. You returned his kiss, melting into his arms and barely holding on with your own arms snaked around his neck. He held your body close to him as he laid you down fully again, curling up with you in a shockingly sweet display of cuddling. Between sporadically making out with you and exploring your body with hands, lips and tongue, Mick kept you right there on his cot as long as possible. That was, until he fell asleep still tangled up with you. While it wasn’t the most comfortable bed, your position allowed you to use Mick as both a pillow and blanket, his body practically radiating heat. You made yourself comfortable, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and letting your eyes slide shut. You didn’t much care that your friends were probably still asleep around a fire outside in the middle of the night. You also didn’t care that you were in a completely foreign country with a stranger in the most middle of nowhere place ever. All that mattered was getting some rest tonight. Mick might have promised to drive you and your friends back up to town in the morning, you were certain that your friends would be going alone. You were perfectly happy spending your vacation right here.

#not mine #wolf creek #mick taylor #❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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Happy Out of Touch Thursday

#mine #wolf creek #mick taylor

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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Mick my beloved

#wolf creek #mick taylor #mine

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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(Updated) Commission Post

I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, so I’m opening commissions again!

Contact info:

DM/ask here Or Twitter: @JellyDrabbles

Price:

$20 per hour Or $5 for a ficlet (up to 500 words)

I accept Paypal and CashApp. I also have a ko-fi.

What I will write:

Smut (ask for specific kinks), fluff, cannon x cannon, cannon x reader, cannon x oc, horror. If it’s not here, ask!

Also, see my pinned post for who I write for. And again, if it’s not there, feel free to ask me about it!

What I won’t write:

R*pe, underage, piss/fecal/vomit, racism

#horror fanfic #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #slasher x oc #slasher smut #smut fanfiction

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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My first fancam 🥲

#mine #wolf creek #mick taylor #blood #guns

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jelly-drabble · 2 years

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To Belong

Synopsis: Alright this is the last Mick one I'll do for a while, it's probably my least favorite but I had to get it out of my system. Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, rough sex Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43213797

“Bloody pale for a tourist,” he stated plainly, running his hands down your arms. “Maybe I should string ya up outside, let ya get some sun.”

Dehydration had already set in, you doubted being in the sun for very long would mean anything but a slow death. He’d been feeding you and giving you water intermittently. When he remembered to do so.

You were still lying flat on your back on the old, metal table. At least your wrists didn’t ache quite as bad as they did when he had you hanging.

Your tattered clothes revealed all the cuts and bruises that covered your skin. And of course the small circular burn in the center of your chest. Though Mick wasn’t free of scars himself. You were certain there was no mystery as to how he got them.

The black tank top he wore gave you a good view of his arms. Tanned and lined with tattoos. Admittedly you were enamored. You wondered what they’d feel like wrapped around your neck.

“Listen, mate,” Mick interrupts, “You’ve been real well behaved. I think I can trust ya not to go runnin’ off as soon as I untie ya.”

Not that you had any intention of running, but the remains of tourists before you that decorated the room served as a reminder of what fate awaited you if you did.

“So,” he started to fiddle with the leather straps around your wrists, “We’re gonna play nice, yeah? Uncle Mick’s got a surprise for ya.”

While he worked on the straps holding down your ankles, you rubbed your wrists. The flesh was tender and damn near raw.

“Up ya go,” he says, pulling you up by the back of your shirt.

On shaky legs, you get to your feet, a puff of dust flying up as you do so. His hand finds its way to your lower back and he guides you out of the dingy shack. The setting sun still burns your eyes, you can’t help but recoil and hold your hands up defensively. He chuckles and pushes you forward, sending you stumbling a few steps.

“Quit being such a big baby, I didn’t have ya in there that long.”

Huh.

You actually weren’t sure how long you’d been staying with Mick now. At least a couple days.

When he stopped pushing you, you’d stopped in front of another ramshackle building. What did he plan on tying you to next? He walked you inside, and to your surprise this building actually had flooring, filthy as it was. It was somewhat furnished, there was a small kitchen complete with dining room table and hot plate, a radio sat next to an old chair, and as he led you down the hall you were greeted by an actual bed.

“Surprise,” he said, leaning into you with a grin.

It was probably coated in a thin layer of dust, but it beat a metal slab.

“Go on, get cozy.”

Unsure of how enthusiastic you should be, you took a few cautious steps forward before plopping down on the edge of the bed. God it was soft. Maybe you’d just gotten used to being uncomfortable.

“Nice, ay?”

The sound of Mick’s belt buckle clinking grabbed your attention. Seemed he had another surprise for you.

“Take your pants off.”

At this point, they were barely doing their job anyway. Shredded down the crotch, leaving you mostly exposed. You wiggled and kicked your way out of your jeans and briefs, Mick watched eagerly. He stalked over to you slowly, smirking the entire time. His fingers worked at his own fly, and in no time the outline of his cock in his briefs was straining desperately against the open zipper.

“Gonna use that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He didn’t need to direct you, you got on all fours as he took a seat next to you. As he pulled his jeans down ever so slightly, his cock sprung free from its confines. It made you swallow the lump in your throat. Thick and already leaking pre-cum.

“Well? Ya gonna sit their gawkin’ like a moron or put that mouth to good use?”

“I-…”

“Oh Christ, c’mere,” he said, tangling his hand in your hair and yanking you closer.

You didn’t need any more convincing than that, you got on your elbows and placed a chaste kiss on his tip. Just as you started to swirl your tongue around it, he gripped your hair tighter and growled.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, just get on with it.”

Fair enough.

With his help, you took the head of his cock into your mouth. He gave you little time to adjust to the width before he was pushing your head down. You were extremely careful to relax your jaw, god forbid you use any teeth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he sighed, “Good little cocksucker.”

His words rattled around in your head as you closed your eyes and allowed him to sink further into your mouth. Heat began to pool in your groin. Once he hit the back of your throat, you instinctively jerked up, but he held you in place.

“Ah ah, don’t you fuckin’ move.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you fought desperately not to gag. Drool began dripping from your lips. Just before you were certain you were going to choke, he released your head and you shot up, doubled over and coughing. Of course he only laughed at you, smacking you on the back.

“Easy, mate, easy.”

“Jesus Christ, Mick!” You managed to get out in between hacking.

“Ya gonna make it?”

The burning in your throat made you want to fire back, but you simply nodded instead, clearing your throat. There was no way you could just let him think you were a quitter, so back on your elbows you went, earning a surprised “Oh” from Mick.

This time you didn’t waste a second trying to be sweet, you took him into your mouth a few inches at a time. Upon reaching the base, you drew back, and Mick groaned. His fingers found their way back in your hair, before balling into a tight fist. You winced, but continued to suck, bobbing your head slowly.

“Fuck me…”

You could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs at this point. Of course you had to touch yourself at that point, you were aching for it. But as you slid your hand between your legs the fist in your hair yanked you back, pulling a yelp from you.

“What the fuck do ya think you’re doing, ay? Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“No! Shit!” You whined, scalp throbbing.

You put both of your hands up in front of you before he finally loosened his grasp.

“Needy little shit,” he muttered, swinging both his legs onto the bed, “C’mere then.”

He was already pulling you by your wrist, and as you fumbled your way to his lap he grabbed your hips, facing you away from him. He lifted you slightly, just enough to line you up with his dick, and with your guiding hand, he slid inside. You sigh and relax back into him, attempting to get comfortable and not crush him. It’s made clear he isn’t worried when he wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you into a full Nelson.

“Fuck,” is all you manage to get out before he starts to slam into you.

His pace is merciless, and you’re in no position to do anything about it. Your pathetic whimpers and moans only seem to egg him on, as he continues fucking into you as rough as he can manage. The room is filled with his grunts and the sound of skin on skin, and it only makes the knot in your stomach tighter. If he didn’t have your ankles pulled up to your head your legs would have already been spasming.

There was no way you’d be lasting long like this. Your first orgasm snuck up on you. You gripped the sheets beneath you and your toes curled as wave after wave ripped through you.

It was clear Mick wasn’t through with you yet though. He continued slamming his hips up against your ass, growling in your ear.

“Think ya can just finger yourself whenever ya want? I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he huffed, “Who does this cunt belong to?”

Fuck.

“F-fuck… please-…”

“Say it, or I’ll fuckin’ stop, I swear to god.”

“You! Fuck, Mick!”

Somehow, he managed to fuck you faster, and suddenly it was very hard to catch your breath. Weak sounds spilled out of you in jagged breaths.

“Filthy fuckin’ slut,” he sputtered, it was extremely obvious his own climax was rapidly approaching.

As a broken string of profanities fell out of your mouth, Mick let out a final guttural moan. Despite cumming inside of you, he didn’t stop moving his hips, though they slowed dramatically.

The two of you collapsed into a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, panting desperately. He let go of your legs finally, and though you expected him to push you aside, he wrapped his arms around your middle. Maybe if you asked really nicely he’d put you in a headlock next time.

“Jesus, Mick,” your breath hadn’t quite caught up with you yet.

“Not a bad surprise, ay?”

You snorted and let your eyes close. The soft sound of him humming lulled you to sleep. This was shaping up to be a pretty solid vacation, all things considered.

#mine #wolf creek #mick taylor #mick taylor x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #horror fanfiction

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