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[southernfxckingprizefighter]

Late Night Fantasies.

Pairing(s): Michael de Santa x F!Reader

Word Count: 1, 126 words

Warning(s): Language, smut, mentions of murder, mentions of robbery

Summary: Inspired by Taylor Swift song 'Ready For It?'. Reader is a thief, Michael is a killer, and they together are a ruthless pairing.

Note: So, this was a spur of the moment thing so I could actually post something (plus I've been replaying GTA, whoops). Anyways, I've got a few more fics about more relevant, popular characters coming soon! Hope you guys enjoy.

I knew he was a killer the first time that I saw him.

Cheshire smile and the eyes of the devil, dressed all in a sweet package of a suit and slicked back hair. The crows feet that bothered his stormy blue eyes showed what his face did not - all of the terrible things he did, she could see them through just the eyes no matter how he tried to hide them. His hands were callus, the stereotypical man hands, fingernails hiding bits of dried blood.

The casual body language he held throughout the robbery was astounding, alarming even. Yes, it was obvious to her that this man was not some angelic being, but one who had done many devilish deeds in his lifetime - and that excited her.

Me? I was a robber the first time that he saw me.

One hand was holding her signature platinum AP pistol, the other was gathering what money she could from the bank’s safe. Hidden under her little hockey mask was a smile that only the devil could love, her eyes showing just how much she was enjoying herself. Her black hoodie was spotted with dried blood - whether it was hers or the other victims in the bank, he couldn't tell. She gave him a wink, eyes twinkling, as she abandoned the building and headed for the getaway she had planned. It was obvious to him that this young woman knew what she was doing, that she had been doing it for quite awhile and not been caught - and that excited him.

But if I'm a thief, then he can join the heist.

A mutual friend of the two people, the one who helped each plan their individual heists, decided it would be best if they met. She was the first to arrive to the old garment factory, her hair flying everywhere from the wind on the ride over and that same devil smile on her lips. She had no idea who she was meeting, just that she and he had met before, though she had her suspicions. A tight shirt accented her natural curves, as did the jeans she wore, all of that accompanied by a pair of nice sneakers. He arrived not long after she, cigarette in his mouth and hair slicked back as the first time she had saw him. He knew damn well that he'd be meeting the little minx who robbed that bank in the desert, so he made sure to wear that same suit he wore that day.

The two locked eyes as he entered the room, both assessing the other and smiling; she smiled especially large when she realized he was wearing the same suit as before. Their mutual friend hobbled over on his cane, greeting them both and introducing them to one another in a most dramatic fashion.

“This is one of the most infamous thieves and murderers of all time, real scum of the earth if you ask anyone with half decent morals, who faked his death in order to escape a terrible past only to get right back into the same shitty situation ten years later. Originally he was Michael Townley, but now, he's Michael De Santa,” explained their mutual friend with a small laugh and a somewhat terrified expression after glancing at Michael's hardened stare.

“You're really doing me some fucking justice there, Lester. Thanks,” muttered Michael in a mixture of sarcasm and annoyance, opting to turn his attention to the unnamed beauty in front of him rather than stare at Lester's frightened expressions.

“Right, well, um.. This is an extremely talented thief that used to run massive solo scores in Liberty City, though she had help from a certain European from time to time, before running here to Los Santos to escape the men trying to kill her. She's been making smaller scores here as to not draw attention to herself since these men are quite serious. She has been, and probably always will be, [Y/N] [L/N],” added Lester after a few moments of breathing, not bothering to glance over at the heavy stare he was receiving from the young woman.

“I gotta say Lester, you really outdid yourself with that description. Do you do dating sites?” The sarcastic, angry remark made Michael snort ever slightly.

“Do you two wanna know what I have for you or are you just gonna sit around like a couple of jackasses? Jesus,” Lester yelled, embarrassed by the snickering and helpless to defend himself against such harsh remarks - to be fair, they were childish compared to the other things he had heard in his life, though harmful nonetheless.

Baby, let the games begin.

With sirens blaring in the distance and police desperately shooting at the incredibly quick getaway, Michael and [Y/N] found themselves laughing away as Lester yelled something or another about danger. In the time it took for them to take the jewel store, they had grown too close to one another.

“What'd I tell ya, gorgeous? Piece of fuckin’ cake,” Michael yelled over the sirens as they faded away, blood splattered all over his body.

“Too easy, M. I like things hard,” flirted [Y/N] with a lick of her lips, her eyes falling to the window to relieve the slight tension that had built from her words.

“I'll make sure to get somethin’ real hard for ya next time then, baby,” Michael returned with a smirk, his callus hand coming to rest on [Y/N]'s clothed thigh.

Are you ready for it?

The cool leather of the couch in [Y/N]'s house felt delicious against her burning bare skin, her perky tits pointing aggressively into the leather as Michael slapped her poor little ass again. Her slick juices leaked from her aching core to his clothed thigh, a little spot beginning to turn bigger with each breathtaking moan that erupted from her throat.

Needy, horny, Michael flipped [Y/N] over and adjusted himself to where his face was level with her core. His tongue dipped low, right across her swollen clit, and she bucked her hips into his mouth. Holding her down, he went to work and swirled his tongue around her clit, lapping up the juices that leaked from her. His cock strained against his suit pants, begging for release, and he found himself growing more and more needy.

As [Y/N] shook and screamed and begged for release, Michael pulled away from her and disappeared. Everything began to fade away to a familiar darkness, and salty tears streamed down [Y/N]’s cheeks as she realized that her fantasy was only that - a fantasy. Another dream about her fucking her married coworker raw, marrying him, being with him.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams..

[southernfxckingprizefighter]

WIPS

Please note that all plots are subject to change at any time. Also note that requests on both accounts are open.

@southernfxckinghero is my main account, and @southernfxckingprizefighter is my side account.

[ Eowells x F!Reader ] | [ Main Account ]

The reader is Barry Allen’s younger sister who became a metahuman with the ability to manipulate air; she aids her brother in protecting Central City. Behind Barry's back, the reader and Harrison Wells begin getting closer, romantically. The reader accidentally discovers that Harrison is the Reverse Flash, and he forces her to choose between himself and Barry. Though she wants to side with Barry, she becomes loyal to Harrison to save her own life.

[ Malcolm Merlyn x F!Reader ] | [ Main Account ]

The reader is another vigilante that works with the Hood, who grew with Oliver and Thea. The Dark Archer nearly ends her life one night before ripping off her mask, revealing her true identity. After Okiver saves the reader, the two have a small argument, and part to prepare for a gala at the Queen mansion. Malcolm Merlyn approaches and seduces the reader into going to his mansion, the two almost sleeping together until Tommy catches them. Consumed by guilt from almost sleeping with her friend's father, the reader tries to leave, but is drugged by Malcolm. Malcolm reveals that he is the Dark Archer, and that he does not want to kill her, but he also cannot risk the Hood knowing his identity.

[ Avengers x F!Reader ] | [ Main Account ] | [ Series ]

The reader grows to hate the Avengers after hearing how amazing they are for her entire life, so she plots against them. After many attempts to take someone’s life, she is finally captured and interrogated by Captain America himself. This reveals that the reader truly hates not being a hero herself, and with the help of Team Cap, she becomes a vigilante wanted by the government and Team Ironman.

[ Hank Anderson x F!Reader ] | [ Side Account ]

The reader is an android that works as a detective alongside Hank, but no one knows that she isn't human. When Connor arrives and determines the truth, he informs Hank, but Hank doesn't believe him. The reader is checked by the police captain, and it is proven that she is an android. Hank, in disbelief and absolute rage, storms out of the station to go have a drink. The reader is runs from her job since she is deviant, and she ends up attacking Connor since he is chasing her. She yells that she loves Hank and that Connor would never understand before Hank appears and breaks the fight up. He is conflicted, but arrests the deviant reader. She is deactivated.

[ Samoa Joe x F!Reader ] | [ Side Account ] | [ Destroyer, Part Two ]

After many weeks, the second Mixed Match Challenge takes place. Kurt Angle makes the team of the reader and Joe, much to the reader’s annoyance; she wants nothing to do with Joe after what happened between them. Joe finds this amusing and decides to take advantage of the situation, placing the reader in awkward and sexual situations in front of the crowd. After a few times of this happening, the reader confronts Joe and the two end up having a heated argument before sleeping together again. Joe is gone when the reader wakes up, leaving her angry yet again.

[ Berserker!Kevin Owens x F!Reader ] | [ Side Account ]

Plot to be determined.

[southernfxckingprizefighter]

The one true love of my life tbh 😍

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[southernfxckingprizefighter]

True Goddess | Part One

Pairing(s): Bray Wyatt x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,867 words

Warning(s): Language, stalking

Summary: Someone is watching the reader and has been getting more bold as time progresses. Fortunately, this person does seem to be of some help, but the reader is also faced with both an angry opponent and an internal conflict that will be addressed more in part two.

Eyes.

The feeling of being watched had grown all too familiar within recent weeks, but this time the faint discomfort of eyes was much closer. Where the observer -dare one say stalker- hid was unknown, but the burning sensation on the back of [Y/N]’s head at least gave her some hint as to where this mystery person was. She daren't look, refusing to give any form of twisted satisfaction to the person - not to mention she was afraid of who it may be.

The loud and crowded corridors backstage were little help to navigate out of sight, so [Y/N] eventually settled in the back of catering. Her eyes focused on the plastic table she sat at, mind swirling with different questions. She didn't have time for this stupid game, not with her championship opportunity so soon. Alexa was no easy opponent, especially with that mole rat Ronda craving revenge, and [Y/N] needed her focus on them.

There was a momentary shake as someone sat down opposite of [Y/N], either unaware that she wanted to be alone or blatantly ignoring that she wanted to be alone. She didn't bother looking up, hoping the person would go away, but they didn't. The burning sensation of eyes watching her strengthened, now directly on her. This person was the person that had been watching her every movement for weeks now. Involuntarily, the hair on [Y/N]’s arms and neck raised in alert, but she remained as calm as possible.

“So, you're the one with the staring problem, eh?” It was supposed to be comedic, but [Y/N] sounded more agitated than anything. Well, at least it conveyed how she truly felt about the situation.

The person didn't bother replying, not that [Y/N] had really expected them to. What do you say to someone who accuses you of stalking them, anyways? She couldn't say, but it also wasn’t her problem. Exasperated and annoyed by the lack of response, [Y/N] lifted her head and found herself getting sick; there was no one sitting across from her. The table had shaken and there had even been a shadow, how could there not have been anyone there? The most nerve-wracking part was that the burning sensation of eyes watching was still too close.

Ghostly pale and shaking, [Y/N] rushed back into the crowded corridors to get to the women’s locker room - the only place those eyes couldn't reach her. Upon entering, the locker room was void of any other women. Peace and quiet was normally soothing for [Y/N] since her life was so full of rowdy fans and pestering company men, yet now it felt haunting.

It was only when [Y/N] sat down near her locker that she noticed the small yellow sticky note pressed against the metal. Her heart rate increased as she snatched the small paper from the locker, her eyes scanning over it.

“Check your locker.” It seemed innocent enough, probably something one of the women had left for her - maybe Nicole? Of course, [Y/N] knew very well that she was just trying to fool herself. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Everything in the locker had been left alone, but now there was something new - something that clearly didn't belong to [Y/N]. A small wallet laid atop her duffel bag of clothes, appearing to be some sort of faux alligator. Cautiously, as if the object could harm her, [Y/N] grabbed the wallet and examined it. It was rough and worn, and part of her swore she had seen it somewhere before. The inside was void of any hints as to who left it, but it was obviously the person stalking her.

Shaken by how bold this person was getting, [Y/N] placed the wallet back in her locker and checked the time. Baron and Kurt should have just finished their backstage segment, giving her less than an hour to prepare for Alexa. Focusing needed to become her main priority for the time being, and as hard as it was going to be to achieve it, it had to be done for the sake of winning the championship.

Time ticked by all too quickly, and before she knew it, [Y/N] was called to the gorilla position. Alexa was currently making her entrance, flaunting her newly won championship and berating the crowd, as usual. Focus wasn't something that [Y/N] had fully achieved, but she had forced the mystery person into the back of her mind for now, which would help a great deal. As Alexa finished her entrance with a smug smile, [Y/N]’s music started. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the ring.

“Oh, come on, ref! How could you not have seen that?” Michael Cole’s voice boomed disapprovingly as Alexa raked her fingers into the eyes of [Y/N], effectively lessening her eyesight.

Salty tears streamed down [Y/N]’s flushed cheeks as a natural reaction, hoping to cleanse any germs from her eyes. This, of course, only made her field of vision even worse. The championship felt like a distant goal now, especially with Alexa pounding her feet into [Y/N]’s head. Slowly, the crowd’s noise became static, and [Y/N] felt herself slipping into oblivion.

To put the icing on the bitter cake, Alexa lifted [Y/N] from the mat and prepared her signature DDT. Just as Alexa was about to drop [Y/N] on her head, the lights in the arena went dark. The crowd cheered in delight and screamed in horror, waiting eagerly to see what had happened. As quickly as they had gone, the lights returned to reveal Alexa knocked out cold in the middle of the ring with [Y/N] on top of her.

At the end of the ramp stood a massive blob that [Y/N] couldn't quite make out due to her impaired vision, but she assumed it was the person who had been watching her. That didn't matter now, though. What mattered was the fact that the referee slammed his hand against the mat thrice and called for the bell, signifying the match was over and that the winner was [Y/N].

“We have a new women’s champion,” exclaimed Jonathan Coachman in shock, the crowd’s cheering almost drowning him out completely.

Byron Saxton scoffed, shaking his head. “Thanks to Bray Wyatt! This wasn't a fair match,” those words were what gained the attention of [Y/N].

As she forced herself to stand, gripping the championship in her hands, [Y/N] looked to where the blob stood. Her vision was still impaired, but now that she really focused on it, she could make out the distinct features of Bray. It didn't make sense as to why he had been the one watching her, and yet, it did. He was the type to stalk someone, but that still didn't explain why he was watching her specifically.

As Bray sauntered off backstage, [Y/N] celebrated for a few minutes in the ring before heading backstage to the medical room to have her eyes rinsed out and checked. Along the way, many congratulated her, but it was clear that none of them were impressed because of Bray’s interference - she was supposed to be a face, after all. It didn't matter; she was the new champion and that was that.

The doctor in the medical room determined that [Y/N] would be fine after he rinsed her eyes, stating that the trauma wasn’t enough to cause any real damage. A relief, considering she would have had to relinquish the championship if there was damage that required surgery.

After the rinsing of her eyes was done, [Y/N] headed towards the women’s locker room for a shower. She was stopped short when she saw Bray staring her down, his gaze burning a hole straight through her soul. He chuckled, dark and sinister like always, before disappearing down one of the unused hallways. He wanted her to follow him, it seemed. And while it probably wasn't a good idea, she did want to thank him, so she followed behind him from a distance.

The sounds of conversations and cheering became faint the farther that [Y/N] followed Bray into the backstage area, effectively causing that fear within her to rise again. This wasn't just her confronting the man that had been stalking her, no, this was her confronting one of the most dangerous men on the roster in a secluded area. As the fear only continued to grow, [Y/N] felt the need to turn and run. Just as she worked up the courage to bolt down the corridor and back into civilization, Bray turned to a door, grinned at her, and walked inside.

“Son of a bitch,” [Y/N] murmured to herself, shaking the thoughts of leaving aside and continuing down the corridor. The door was like any other, nothing intimidating about it, and yet she found it to be one of the most intimidating things she had ever encountered. Her hand hovered near the door for a few agonizing moments before she finally knocked, almost too soft to even be heard in the silence.

There was nothing, for a moment. “Come in.” Bray called out in a childlike delight, his voice muffled from the object between them. [Y/N] could hear the smile on his lips, and she debated going in again, but before she knew it, she stood before Bray. Her shaking hand remained on the door, which was still wide open, and she watched him. He sat on this dark green couch, right in the middle of the room. “Don’t be rude, lamb. Close the door, make yourself at home.” He chuckled lowly as he watched her struggle to close the door, fighting her better judgment.

Ever nervous and shaky with her movements, [Y/N] sat on a worn wooden chair that was close to the door. “I- uh- I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” she muttered, eyes anywhere but Bray. He hummed, and then there was silence. “I should go- I apologize for bothering you,” as she stood, so did he. Her eyes widened at his intense expression, and suddenly she realized she really shouldn't have come here.

“Why do I terrify you so, lamb? I would never imagine harming you, if that's what concerns you.” Bray took a step forward, his eyes stormy and unreadable. Frozen, [Y/N] tried to choke out a response, but Bray quickly hushed her with his hand. “Or do you truly fear me? Fear can be easily confused with lust - with desire.” His expression had changed very slightly, a small smile across his lips.

Confusion laced the face of [Y/N] at Bray’s words, her eyes shooting to meet his own. It was entirely possible she was confusing her lust with fear, but with her mind currently set in fear, she refused to entertain the thought. “I fear you,” she stated as she backed away to the door, “I- thank you for helping me, but please.. leave me alone.” She vanished from the room, almost running down the corridor to reach the women's locker room.

[southernfxckingprizefighter]

Destroyer.

Pairing(s): Samoa Joe x F!Reader

Words: 3,459 words

Warning(s): Language, poorly written smut, semi public sex, unprotected sex, some angst

In wrestling, many people held themselves a certain way; some people were egomaniacs with little talent, some people were too kind, but no one - no one - was like Joe.

There was this confidence that engulfed Joe that was simultaneously intriguing and intimidating, and no matter the outcome of whatever match he had, he would always appear backstage with that damned smirk; that smirk was just so arrogant it was borderline sickening, yet it only added to the swagger that surrounded him. His eyes held this authority that no one else, not even the likes of Hunter or Vince, could match - the kind of authority that could make anyone do anything. His hands were thick and callous from fighting, the kind of hands that know just about how really hurt someone, which is likely why he chose to choke people out instead of some other move. But the most impressive thing about Joe was his mind - he was a strategist. Not just any strategist though, he almost always had a plan perfectly constructed in that head. And on the off-chance that plan happened to fail, he always had a backup.

It made sense that Joe was the type of person that knew what he wanted the moment he laid eyes on it; it also made sense that he wouldn’t stop until he got exactly what he wanted. It also made sense that once that person or thing lost its use that Joe would get rid of it - he didn't like loose ends, after all.

Subtly was another specialty of Joe, so [Y/N] hadn't noticed the lingering glances he would give her in catering or the little smirks he walked by, not at first. Patience was something Joe most definitely had, but when she didn't notice him from afar for so long, his patience quickly grew thin. Lingering glances in catering had turned to hungry stares that were impossible to miss, and little smirks as he walked by turned suggestive and obvious.

It came as a genuine surprise to [Y/N] when she found herself the newest thing to capture the attention of such an intimidating man. The two of them had never spoken to one another, so why, after the few years they had been on the same brand, did Joe suddenly gain such an interest in her? It was baffling. Nothing about her had changed in that time period; same hair, same entrance, same theme song, same everything.

Eventually, these lingering stares and suggestive smirks caused [Y/N] to seek out the man known as the Destroyer. She had put it off for as long as her psyche would allow *her* out of pure fear, but curiosity and unease had finally overcome her.

Finding Joe wasn't hard seeing as he was almost always in her vicinity, but [Y/N] found actually approaching him to be much more challenging. He sat alone at the far end of catering, where he always sat, with no food and his intense gaze fixated on her. Standing in the middle of the room with an aura of nervousness was bound to gain anyone's attention though, she told herself - it was an attempt to calm her anxiety that unceremoniously failed. Part of her desperately wished that Joe would start the conversation by beckoning her over or walking to where she stood, but he did nothing more than stare with an ever-growing smirk.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, [Y/N] finally made her way over to where Joe was sitting and sat opposite of him. There was a deafening silence between the pair as she had expected him to say something, but he only raised an eyebrow in questioning. He was toying with her.

“What’s your problem?"

The question came out much more aggressive than [Y/N] had intended, which only made the nervousness in her stomach grow in fear that she might have upset Joe. Eyebrow still raised, a slight smirk on his lips, Joe only chuckled.

“I have many problems, [Y/N]. I'm going to have to ask you to be more specific,” the answer rolled off of his tongue with ease. Of course, Joe knew what she was asking, but he enjoyed this little game of watching her squirm.

“What's your problem with me? I've done nothing to gain your attentive stares,” [Y/N] clarified quickly, her eyes narrowing. She didn't like the game that Joe was playing.

“There’s no issue between us from my perspective. Perhaps you're just nervous around me,” Joe’s smirk grew, “rumor has it that you are.”

At that comment, [Y/N] looked down at her lap. She knew well what Joe was implying, and it wasn’t far from true. “Not for the reasons you might think,” she lied cooly, “actually, maybe you stare for the same reasons you implied I’m nervous around you.”

For a brief moment, there was more silence. Joe seemed to be amused based on the slight grin his lips held, but he also seemed to be stalling. Perhaps it was for effect, and if it was, it succeeded in making [Y/N] even more uncomfortable than she had already been. Finally, Joe leaned in just a bit closer to her. “I know what I want when I want it,” his voice was low and seductive, “take that as you will.”

Unable to form a coherent response, [Y/N] coughed to clear the silence that was attempting to come between them again. Joe, sensing the effect he had had on her, stood and left with another confident smirk on his lips.

The nervousness within [Y/N] subsided, for the time being, replaced by an immeasurable amount of confusion. Did Joe just imply that he was interested in her, sexually? Or was he still just toying with her? Whatever the case, she abandoned catering for the women’s locker room in hopes of clearing her head.

The locker room was near empty, save for the two twins discussing something in hushed tones near the back. [Y/N] made herself comfortable in her personal space, leaning her throbbing head against the wall. The twins took notice of this behavior, and after a moment of hushed debating, Nicole made her way over. “You look stressed. Everything okay?” Her caring tone was enough to make [Y/N] smile.

“Yeah, I just- Joe has been watching me extra carefully for the last few weeks,” [Y/N] explained softly, sighing after a moment. She really couldn't wrap her head around why he would ever be interested in her.

This comment gained Brianna’s attention, her head swinging up from her phone. “Joe? As in Samoa Joe?” Her eyes were wide, whether it was in horror or astonishment was unknown.

[Y/N] nodded as her gaze focused on Brianna, watching as the twin gasped. Nicole gasped, but hers quickly turned to squeals of delight that took the other two women completely off-guard. “He’s totally into you!” Nicole cheered, much to the dismay of her twin sister.

“Even if he is, he’s super dangerous, Nicole,” Brianna countered quickly, holding up her phone as a method of proving her words.

On the screen, Joe was decimating his opponent, Roman. The match could have easily been over minutes ago, but it seemed that Joe was taking a great pleasure in punishing Roman. It was disturbing- but it was also amazing how immensely talented Joe was. “I bet he’s trying to show off for her,” Nicole grinned after a few seconds.

The beating just wasn’t ending, and Roman was likely injured by now. [Y/N] took this as a sign to interrupt the match and bolted out of the locker room, not bothering to listen to the twins protesting.

As [Y/N]’s music cued, she ran down the ramp and slid into the ring with ease. The crowd was confused, the commentators were confused, and most of all, Joe was confused. She stood between him and Roman before slapping Joe with all of her might, every inch of nerves from before flooding her body when she realized just what she had done.

The bright red hand print that appeared on the side of Joe’s face was hardly visible against the red that covered the entirety of Joe’s body, showing just how angry he was. He reached for [Y/N]’s arm with a harshness that startled her, but she quickly reacted by kicking him in the side of the head. The ring shook as he fell, his hand instinctively clutching his head, his eyes full of absolute rage.

The referee ended the match and, by disqualification, Joe was deemed the winner. [Y/N] shuffled out of the ring to aid Roman, helping him backstage while Joe laid in the middle of the ring, fuming.

“You shouldn't have come out,” Roman mumbled weakly, “I appreciate it, but he’ll be after you now.” There was a genuine concern in his voice, and while she definitely appreciated the concern, she had to focus on avoiding Joe until he calmed.

“I have a feeling he already was,” [Y/N] replied as they made it to the medical room. “Get to feeling better, Roman,” she called as she left, her eyes darting around for any sign of Joe.

The fact that [Y/N] had the balls to interrupt the match between Joe and Roman was already stupid enough, but attacking Joe? She was asking to be killed. Wherever her burst of confidence came from, it was long gone now and she cursed it.

Just as [Y/N] turned the corner, she saw Joe waiting just outside of the women’s locker room. He knew that whether she was in the locker room or not, she would either have to come out or get her gear. Sweat covered his entire body, glistening in the lights of the corridor. His arms were tightly crossed over his chest, his body leaning against the wall.

[Y/N] turned to leave, but it was in vain - Joe had seen her.

Heavy footsteps made their way to [Y/N], and without much warning, she felt a hand on her elbow forcing her to turn around with enough force to almost make her dizzy. Her eyes focused on Joe, his face sweaty and red. “Your little ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt you pulled,” he let out an animalistic growl, pinning [Y/N] to the cool stone wall. A shockwave of energy shot through her upon contact.

“You were hurting him; the match should've long been over,” Joe’s sweaty body against [Y/N]’s, skin on skin, made her flustered. The contrast between his heat and the wall’s coolness was surprisingly nice.

The grip on [Y/N]’s wrists faltered slightly when one of Joe’s hands made it down to her vulnerable neck, wrapping around it and squeezing with enough intensity to make her breathing irregular. “You don't get to make that decision,” Joe’s hot breath hit [Y/N]’s face from how close he was, “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

Before she could register what was going on, [Y/N] found herself being dragged down the corridor to an empty room. It was small, bland, not that Joe let her examine it much. He was pinning her against the wall once more, the same position as before, his forehead on hers. “Tell me if I’m crossing a line,” he demanded, eyes boring into hers.

At a loss for actual words, [Y/N] only shook her head. That's when Joe pressed his lips against hers with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs, his tongue roaming her mouth and tasting every inch of her he possibly could. She let out a soft moan, grinding her body against his.

The hand on [Y/N]’s throat tightened slightly as a warning before Joe parted for air, leaving her swollen lips for her ear. Both of his hands fell to her hips, forcing her against the wall completely. Joe took this time to attack [Y/N]’s neck with a series of hard bites, all of which she thought would end up drawing blood and never did. “Oh fuck,” she moaned a bit too loudly, gaining a hard slap to her outer thigh. It stung, but she bit her lip to stop the hiss of pain, not wanting another hard smack.

Seemingly pleased with his work, Joe replaced his teeth with his tongue, trailing a line of saliva from [Y/N]’s neck to her ear. He paused for a moment before taking her lobe between his teeth and pulling. “You have far too many clothes on for my liking. Take them off,” Joe whispered in that sexy gruff tone, nibbling on her lobe before pushing himself away from her.

Hesitating, [Y/N] stepped away from the wall to find her knees had practically turned to jelly. She played with the band of her shorts for a moment, unsure of herself. Was she sure she wanted this?

“You heard me. Take. Them. Off.” Obediently, [Y/N] quickly removed her shorts - she was definitely sure she wanted this. She had no panties on for comfort purposes, which only seemed to fuel Joe even more as his tongue danced across his lips. After removing the remaining of her clothes, [Y/N] found herself flush from the intense stare Joe was giving her.

Cool air hit [Y/N]’s newly exposed flesh, her nipples hardening in response. Wetness trailed visibly down her inner thigh, showing just how much of an effect he had on her. Joe admired her body for a moment before taking off his own boots and shorts, leaving him in a pair of black boxers. His boxers hardly left anything to the imagination; his dick was visibly straining against the fabric.

As Joe approached her, [Y/N] felt her body shiver in anticipation. His callous hand caressed her inner thigh, just far enough away that he wasn't touching her center, but close enough that he could feel her wetness. “So very eager, [Y/N]. If I didn't know any better, I’d say this was your plan all along,” he teased, getting a soft whine in response. His hand gently brushed against her entrance as he removed it, teasing her even farther.

Taking a step away from [Y/N] now, Joe seemed to get dangerously serious. It was time that she pay for her interference, and that meant that the teasing had to be converted to punishment - and he just loved to punish people. “Bend over,” Joe ordered lowly, gesturing to the wall after a moment. His eyes burned with such an intense primal desire, enough to make [Y/N] wonder just how long he had wanted this. Now was not a time for thinking, though.

Again, [Y/N] obeyed and bent over using the wall to support her hands. Joe had a full view of how soaked she was, and that thought sent a shiver down her spine. A loud crack resonated throughout the small room, a squeal coming from [Y/N] as stinging sensation crossed her ass. “What the fuck, Joe?” She hissed, turning over her shoulder to face him. This, she realized too late, was a mistake.

Another loud crack filled the room, this time earning a slight moan from [Y/N]. She had no time to recover as a series of hard smacks hit both of her ass cheeks, her moans and squeals filling the room. “You don't talk unless I say so,” Joe growled, his hands squeezing the now tender and dark red flesh, “and you damn sure don't get to question me.” One of his hands slid around her front to squeeze her neck, the other holding her against him.

Grinding against [Y/N]’s ass gained a needy moan from the woman, the skin between Joe’s hard cock and her ass only stopped by the thin fabric of his boxers. “I’m going to fuck you, nice and hard, until you're begging me to stop,” he mumbled against her ear, the hand holding her against him slowly trailing down to her clit. He took the swollen flesh between his thumb and forefinger, pinching with enough force to earn a loud moan and a desperate attempt to gain more friction.

Releasing [Y/N]’s clit after a moment, Joe took the time to dip two of his fingers into her entrance. His breath hitched at just how soaked she was, his body instinctively pressing closer against her. Without warning, Joe began to pump his fingers at a strong enough pace that [Y/N] was a writhing mess against him. “Fuck, fuck, please,” she whined as she began to buck her hips against his hand, her body becoming tense.

The ball of fire in [Y/N]’s stomach was so very close to being released, but Joe sensed her orgasm and snatched his fingers out of her. “What did I say about speaking?” His voice was thick with lust, his grip on her throat tightening. Too caught up to even bother listening to her, he shoved his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself. [Y/N] seemed to enjoy this, to Joe’s surprise, as she began sucking. He couldn't wait any longer.

Releasing [Y/N] only long enough to remove his boxers, Joe turned her to face him and wrapped her legs around his waist. His dick poked the inside of her thigh as he put his hand around her throat, squeezing with enough intensity to make her slightly dizzy. “Fuck,” Joe hissed as he thrust into [Y/N], giving her just enough time to adjust before his hips took control. He was so rough that skin on skin filled the room, so rough that with every thrust her ass would burn from the bruises he left.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” [Y/N] cried at the speed of which Joe was going, the ball in her stomach returning, “fuck me harder, please daddy.” Her moaning was so loud that the entire arena could probably hear it, but neither person cared. Joe felt her orgasm hit as her pussy clenched around his throbbing dick, her body writhing against him as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Yes, yes, fuck,” she moaned into Joe’s neck, convulsing. It took her a few seconds, but she slowly regained herself. “Oh god, Joe,” her chest heaved against his own as she came down from her high, her nails still digging into his neck and back.

Joe didn't know he had a daddy kink until that moment, but fuck if it didn't make him go as hard as he could. His breath was ragged and his movements didn't halt when [Y/N]’s orgasm was over, no, he kept jackhammering into her. His own body started to tremble, signaling that he wouldn't be able to go much longer. Knowing this, Joe pulled out of [Y/N] and pushed her to her knees. She needed no explanation and sucked him off until he came, grunting and pulling her hair. She swallowed the thick liquid before standing, or trying to stand.

Satisfied, Joe pulled [Y/N] from the ground and helped her dress herself. She was sore and bruised in certain areas, and Joe felt an immense amount of pride fill him. It was always good to know that he could fuck someone so good that they could hardly walk. “Don’t ever come between me and my opponent again,” he stated after dressing himself, leaving the room before [Y/N] had the time to respond.

Standing there, confused and feeling satisfied, [Y/N] grinned to herself. Joe may not have been the most caring of individuals, but she was more than sure that there was something between the two of them. He wasn't the type to go around screwing random women, so she had to mean something to him.. Right?

A few weeks passed by and Joe still hadn't said a word to [Y/N]; hell, he hadn't even been paying her any attention like he was before. It was upsetting for [Y/N]. So, after so long of being ignored, she went on the hunt for the man known as the Destroyer - a fitting name, now that she thought about it. It truly surprised her when she found Joe in one of the corridors with one of the female media supporters, holding her against the wall with that same primal look he had given her only weeks ago. It was at this point that [Y/N] realized she was just another notch in Joe’s belt, but somehow, she wasn't all that surprised. After all, Joe wasn't a man to be held down.

[southernfxckingprizefighter]

Torture.

Pairing(s): Hank Anderson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,222 words

Warning(s): Language, suicidal thoughts and tenancies, alcoholism, psychological torture

Summary: Hank isn't proud of his choices, at all.

An arm lazily darted across the bed to find it empty and cold, not that it was much of a surprise. Coming here was a mistake [Y/N] had made more than half a million times now, and staying was that much worse - that never made the disappointment of waking alone go away, though.

Sickening amounts of alcohol filled her nostrils as she inhaled, forcing her tired eyes open. There was darkness, as usual. She could make out undergarments that laid strewn across the floor, almost smiling to herself when she realized that his were still there - but she caught herself and forced the happiness away, instead wondering why he was still there. It wasn't in his nature to stay, not to mention their unspoken agreement.

With her head pounding from a hangover, [Y/N] determined it best to not think, choosing instead to sit up in the bed. As her vision continued to adjust to the darkness, she could make out the form of his dog in the corner. This time she allowed a smile to cross her lips; she loved Sumo with her entire being. “Good morning,” she whispered in greeting to the large beast, only getting a soft bark in response. This was their usual morning greeting, so she was far from disappointed.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, [Y/N] gathered her undergarments and clothed herself. She couldn't see her dress anywhere, but she would concern herself with that after she had some coffee. The scent of alcohol hardly faded as she went into the short hallway, only to pick up once more once she reached the kitchen.

Her heart stopped for half a second; there Hank stood, stark naked, his back to her. They had never had a morning where he didn't run off. Unfortunately, he had been a detective for quite a long time, so he had heard her enter and turned to her. He looked so tired with the bags under his eyes and the ever-growing beard that she would never admit to loving.

There was a brief silence before [Y/N] moved to grab a cup of coffee, trying not to make eye contact. It made her jump when Hank’s hand snapped out to grab her wrist, almost causing her to drop her coffee altogether.  “Why do you keep comin’ back for more?” He questioned in that tone, the tone he used on the androids. She frowned, pulling against his grip, but he didn't falter.

[Y/N] froze for a moment, really contemplating an answer. She enjoyed spending the night with Hank, yet she would also enjoy waking to him. His beard and attitude turned her on, but sometimes she just wanted to punch him in the face. She loved his dog more than anything in the world, if she was really honest. “I don't know,” she answered unconvincingly, allowing her wrist to rest in his hand. Hank’s grip loosened, not enough for her to move, but enough to be more comfortable.

Hank shook his head, his tongue darting across his chapped lips in mild disappointment. Anger boiled within him, whether it was aimed at her or himself, he couldn't be sure. “Tell me the fuckin’ truth,” his voice was still gruff and demanding, almost ordering the truth from her. He hated his job for making it so damn easy for him to pick up on lies; sometimes lies are easier than the truth.

[Y/N] pulled her hand from his grip, turning away from him and taking a long sip from her coffee. She couldn't admit it and drive him even farther away, but by lying, she risked losing him anyways - not that he was hers to lose. “You, err, you don't want to hear the truth, not really,” she avoided, back still turned. Her knuckles were white from gripping the coffee mug so tightly out of anxiety, her eyes slightly watered from holding back what she felt.

Hank could believe that. But, his curiosity and general detective mannerisms made him need the truth. His eyes scanned her back, and part of him wanted desperately pull her to him, but he refrained. Emotions were not a can of worms he wanted to open. “Just fuckin’ tell me, I don't have time for this,” he was never one to be urgent to work, and she knew that, but that didn't stop the useless excuse from coming out.

Without bothering to reply, [Y/N] walked off to the bathroom to wash her face. Cool water dripped down her cheeks like tears, almost replicating her emotions, ironically. Looking into the mirror, she saw just how terrible she looked from both the alcohol and stress, but she also spotted her dress almost hidden behind the door.

Hank had followed her in a rage of curiosity and unwanted emotion, leaning against the doorframe with a heartbroken look in his aging eyes. She was hurt, visibly so, and he was too much of a pussy to say anything. Too scared that he would get hurt again, just like he did with his son - yeah, this was different, but it was far too similar. He watched quietly as she slid on her skintight black dress that showed a generous amount of cleavage and ended a few inches above the knee - his favorite.

[Y/N] turned to leave, her eyes falling on him. She couldn't make out what he was thinking, not that she expected to. The way he stood there, staring her down, everything hanging free - god, it was enough to make her shudder. Too bad she had to distance herself, find someone who would actually care about her.

“Where are you goin’?” Hank asked as she strutted by, his eyes glued to the back of her head. His voice was much less rough now, much more concerned than usual.

“What’s it matter?” The pain of heartbreak was evident in [Y/N]’s words, her mouth speaking before she could regulate it. She stuttered in her movements, halting for half a second, and giving him enough time to grab her elbow.

There was a silence that fell upon the entire house that was consuming and eerie. Hank slowly pulled [Y/N] to him, his eyes searching her own for any sign of what he felt - and though he wouldn't admit it due to his own irrational fear, she held even more emotion in her eyes.

Tears cascaded down the face of Hank as he pushed the woman away, storming off into the bedroom to drink and forget - fuck his job. He plopped down onto the bed, bottle of scotch in hand. On his nightstand was a picture of [Y/N], the real one; the one that had fought for android rights years ago and died for it; the one he had been too afraid to tell her the truth - he loved her.

So, to make up for the mistakes of the past, Hank tortured himself daily with an android that replicated the original [Y/N] in every aspect. It was always different, the events of the day, but it was always something she would've said or done. It was his fuckin’ fault she was gone, just like his son. He couldn't wait until the day the whiskey killed him, maybe then his suffering would finally fuckin’ end.

[southernfxckingprizefighter]

Things I Write For

So, I figured since I'm not very detailed about what I write for in my description that I would make a post about it. When making a request, include a gender and what you want to happen. I also would like to note that I do unrated characters as well - Mr. Jefferson (LiS), Hank (D:BH), Magni and Modi (GoW), etc. If you're looking for Marvel/DC imagines, go to my main blog @southernfxckinghero .

* indicates certain rules for that fandom that will be included later in the post

I will update this as needed.

Things I Write For

WWE (NXT, RAW, Smackdown Live!)

Detroit: Become Human

Telltale: The Walking Dead

Life is Strange + Before the Storm

Creepypasta*

Bendy and the Ink Machine*

YouTube*

God of War

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Last of Us

Probably more, just ask

Regarding *

As far as Creepypasta goes, I will write romance, but it will have to have aspects of violence or yandere or something that makes it relatable to the character. I will not write fluff for these characters, and these imagines will likely be triggering.

The same rule above applies to the demonic characters in Bendy and the Ink Machine. These will likely also be triggering.

The YouTube channels I watch are as follows: Mini Ladd, JackSepticEye, Shane Dawson, David Dobrik, JonTron, Chilled Chaos, ZeRoyalViking, GalmHD, Markiplier, Game/Film Theory, anyone that's friends with any of them excluding GameGrumps and Smosh