#When the Dark Spoke to Me
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
rewatching the first episode of Hannibal and holy shit I forgot how good this is but it's actually insane that Brian fuller set up the ep like this, he introduces will and Hannibal by first briefly showing them at their core, at the darkest, most vile part of them---we get a glimpse behind the curtain---and then its gone, the curtain is snapped shut and we see their masks, their human suits.
Will empathizes with killers because he likes it, and he wants to kill but he refuses to give into the urge because he knows how much he'll like it and he won't be able to stop. So he lives vicariously through other killers, satisfying his own dark urge by feeding it little morsels of secondhand blood lust. Every crime scene he works gives the urge something that satisfies it, not enough for it to grow, but enough for it be sate. Enough that he can ignore it for long enough that he can walk around and be Professor Will Graham who is Weird, Brash, and Non-sociable.
And Hannibal is a cannibal at night and a psychiatrist by morning.
#hannibal#hannigram#hanniblogging#hannigram brainrot is real#also ive watched the entirety of hannibal like four times and everytime i watch it i still find stuff to lose my mind over#brian fuller the brain that you have#winston my beloved#also plzzzz the way hannibal was just gonna kill jack with like no hesitation#AND the way hannibal was fucking smitten from the moment he spoke to will#like wills all like i hate eye contract its distracting as hell and hannibal is just looking at him like 😍😍😍#plss you are embarrassing yourself#also question#when will was like how do you see me and hannibal said that shit about the mongoose and the snakes and will just looks at him like ????#do yall think he was confused because he was genuinely like dude what the actual fuck are you saying#or because he understood it#and the woman at hobbs' work being like two guys from the fbi#and neither of them are technically from the fbi#just two insane dudes having a first date by larping an active fbi investigation#omg and when will shoots hobbs he realizes that oh fuck this is my chance this is my chance to kill and finally satisfy that dark urge#so after he shoots him once he just keeps shooting shooting shooting till its impossible for hobbs to survive for hobbs to be dead#till it was will that killed him
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
every time i hear the lyrics “pretty boy, natural blood stained blond, with the holes in his sneakers and his eyes all over me” i always think about kit💀
#ive been crying over dust bowl for the past two days#i mean i also think about arthur when i listen to it but yk#the first verse really spoke to me ig#kit herondale#the wicked powers#twp#the dark artifices#tda#shadowhunters#tsc#the shadowhunter chronicles
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
sometimes a yaoi man who is drawn in a way that looks more like a spider than a human being can be so personal
#when michiru sonoo made mito a princess in a tower kept safe by everyone around him and therefore imprisoned in his own frailty I Felt That#extremely called out by the whole thing really#sometimes you read a manga and plunge immediately into comical levels of victorian-era romantic malaise. this was one of those times#and i cant even read the whole thing properly yet lmao. lmaoo#i wish she wrote f/f because her writing just reaches into my chest and Grisps and i think if a yuri made me feel seen the way her works do#it would rewire my brain permanently#momo talks#edit from a few days later i just found an old fanbox post of hers and i need to talk about it so here will do#she thinks of mito as strong.#oh my god he's STRONG.#iku says it a million times and i just never heard him because i was too busy woobifying mito and therefore myself. he's a tyrannosaur#in her own words. he is only ever angry quietly but he is a strong strong man.#it's true that the people who loved him could never help him because they were afraid they'd break him#because he didnt know how to ask for help and they never offered it#so they just left him there. in a tower.#in a trunk.#for twenty five years in the darkness.#they couldnt help him BECAUSE they loved him so much and that's why he needed iku. but i. augh#it bothers me. because what spoke to me most was his frailty because that's how i feel#and the idea of being rescued from my own frailty by someone who i could open my heart to and help heal in my own way. appealed.#but she doesnt think of him as frail.#she thinks he is strong.#it's like the camera shifted. i am strong too.#if she made him and put me in there somehow and thinks he is strong. then i must be too.#i have had my years of darkness too and i never stopped searching either. i am still searching. i never stop trying despite everything.#i am still in my trunk and nobody knows how to help me either because they love me.#they loved him too much to risk breaking him. and the distance that agonises me that i can't close because i fear breaking myself#is the same thing.#delete later#<- ironic use of tag so i can find this later because i never do end up deleting any of these.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
my stress dreams are becoming more and more specific as time passes
#a couple months ago I had one where I was trying to explain the concept? of dice arisugawa to my giagia (who has extremely late-stage dement#ia)#and last night I had one where i was trying to take a taxi from the centre of athens to our house w a friend of mine (who speaks no greek)#and the taxi driver thought that when I said [neighbourhood] i meant nauplio. which considering how our neighbourhood doesn’t even start wi#h n is impressive#but I didn’t even realise we were going to nauplio until we were in nauplio and the guy kept thinking my friend spoke Greek when I told him#she didnt and I was wondering how we were gonnna get back or have the money to pay the taxi driver#because for some reason athens —> nauplio cost €58.56 and I didn’t have that much money on me?????? it should not be that low#and like it was getting dark and all I wanted was to go home but the taxi driver kept driving us around nauplio#and complaining about gas prices but I couldn’t process much of what he was saying because I was stressed#and trying to explain to my friend what was happeningg#a very colourful stress dream for sure!!!#con rambles
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
my only worthwhile contribution to fandom is that I scanned this picture of Sable out of my own goddamn instruction booklet and I never saw it anywhere before that and after I scanned it it started showing up everywhere
You're welcome
#for the frog the bell tolls#kaeru no tame ni kane wa naru#it could've popped up somewhere else for all i know#it's just very funny#the booklet had art that was NOWHERE ELSE back in the day#back in the dark times when the people who knew about this game and spoke english were#the people who made the fan translation. me. and my friend katie. lmfao#and masahiro sakurai apparently
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
I feel very loved
#this reminds me of 2020 when we were all online all the time and everyone was friends and i spoke to you every day#that was such a bright spot in a dark place and i love u very much#im happy#happy to be here
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
chewing on him...
#i'm rummaging through my screenshots instead of sleeping and this one spoke to me...#you're so pretty when you scowl bby#bg3#the dark urge#bg3:ezra
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
devastating news. gave myself a haircut and initially the outcome was just right. looked even and well cut. now when the next day arrived I decided I was okay to do some touch ups which led me down the rabbit hole and now I'm so fucked. I'm fucked for at least the next 3 months

#I wish I had suffered from the clarity of my vision!!!!!#but some evil voice spoke to me and I kneeew I shouldn't listen but even then I decided some touch ups would#not lead me down the dark path of fucking up my hair. but they did as always#my bangs are fine honestly werk#everything else? complete silence#txt.me#forget about me everyone I need to go into hiding for a while ... I'll resurface when my vanity allows me to
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
I got 7 reactions to the post I made on this app 8 whole days ago (when most ppl in my area got 2 or 3 at the most). & Several messages I haven't responded to. Tbh I haven't bothered since that first day, bc I got what I wanted out of it (decided to try a hookup and accomplished it 3 days after deciding it), and...
We've still been texting. Sometimes about things that aren't exactly typical of what you'd think for a hookup (emotionally intimate, I guess?). Today we got on the topic of hiking and I mentioned my fav state park & she said she was planning to go there over spring break and said she'd love to bring me with her... which That is a level of accepting me in her life that I think is not typical of just a one-off hookup kinda thing.
So like... idk if we r skirting around the possibility of a relationship?? Or if we r setting up to be friends with benefits?? Would it be exclusive??? Open??? Assuming there's any kind of relationship at all??????
Idk. It feels like there's Something there. I don't know what she wants out of it. I kinda don't even know what I want out of it. But it'd feel a little weird to pursue smth else when we're in this nebulous area... it wouldn't be cheating bc it's not like we're dating, but I'd also hate it if we Did end up dating (exclusively) and then I'd have to give up someone else........
Idk. I wasn't expecting to hit it off with someone like this. I'm still pretty burnt out on serious romance, so I don't want to just jump right into a new thing. I just know that I like talking with her and I'll probably want to sleep with her again. Beyond that...
I dont know. It's all so confusing.
#speculation nation#i think im bigtime failing at the whole Casual aspect of it 😂#but i cant help being so alluring.... the girls Love a sweet nerd with a mysterious hidden darkness.....#might be why i have so many reactions too. i am for serious my post has over twice as many reactions as anyone else#idk. i have options. for now im just leaving them open.#it's only been a week now since we started chatting. still way too early to decide anything.#i will simply play it by ear. see where things take me.#we have. we have a spotify playlist. for sharing our favorite songs together. we are sharing music.#i feel like im going insane. this cant be the normal Just Casual kinda thing can it???#not when shes said at multiple points that im 'the coolest person ever' or that im really kind#oh god am i turning into one of those useless lesbian tropes????#'help this girl keeps saying im really cool and that she wants to go hiking with me and we are sharing music together#and also we had sex. do you think she likes me?'#fbkdfkshfkshdjd it sounds so FUNNY laid out like that. but the sex rly is just incidental and all ykno?#i dont know how many hookups shes actually had. i dont know how special i am to her#emotionally Or sexually. and i feel like asking would be rude.#so i am simply waiting it out. seeing where it goes. and being pleasantly surprised anytime it goes well.#the thing with the hiking today made me all 😳😳😳😳 bc it spoke of a desire to have me in her life several months from now#it's only been a week. it's only been a week. i have no idea what im doing.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.
“Woah, she’s hot!”
That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.
“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”
Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.
He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?
He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.
Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.
The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.
“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.
Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.
When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.
Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.
Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.
“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.
Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”
You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.
The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.
After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.
“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”
With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.
More than likely both.
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk sukuna smut#jjk sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader smut#tw sex mention#tw smut#cw sex mention#cw smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
i havent been this excited about a new season of a show since stranger things its so nice to feel something again
#this show is the closest ive ever been to the insanity that i was at when i first watched dark#you didnt see me react to dark i was 17 and didnt have this sideblog BUT I TOLD EVERYONE WHO SPOKE TO ME TO WATCH IT I WAS INSANE#and ive done that again ive successfully made five people watch this show#god yellowjackets i love you shauna shipman i love you#yellowjackets
1 note
·
View note
Text
i know they say you dont know love until you have a baby, but i have felt genuine love. this feels familiar. but i have never, not even close, not even in the same metric of meaning, been loved like this by someone else. it is so, so beautiful. she loves me so much.
#it’s so late#11:43 pm#I put her to bed at 9:15 and she quickly woke back up#so I brought her to the kitchen with me to finish my holiday baking#and with one hand I held her. and the other I piped the meringue on the pie#and she was tired but patient and smiled at me with her eyes when I would pause to explain to her what I was making#and at 11:00 I finished baking and we came to lay down to sleep far past her bedtime#and as I nursed her - instead of drifting back to sleep quickly as she typically would#she paused to look into my eyes with her sparkly (currently hazel) eyes#softly and lovingly cooing at me. quietly as if she understands this is a soft & intimate moment just between us#I shined my phone light so she could see my face in the dark. so she’d know I’m always here. always looking for her too.#and we spoke to each other for a good while until she was tired and snuggled into me and fell asleep#I would never put my life or meaning or purpose into my child. she obviously deserves a mother who is bigger than that#but wow.#every day is the best day of my entire life
0 notes
Text
^^ "coming to the conclusion that positioning the "can people enjoy things that would be immoral IRL in their fiction" debate as a proship v anti fandom debate is akin to pretending that "should we have the death penalty" is a discussion that only matters in Death Note discourse"
not proshipper not anti but a secret third thing (person who has a career in the media and, through covering legislative politics, has watched "associating with problematic fiction or entertainment is an indicator of moral degeneracy" rapidly become a mainstream GOP position that they are encoding in legislation to target the queer community under the guise of protecting children, thus coming to the conclusion that positioning the "can people enjoy things that would be immoral IRL in their fiction" debate as a proship v anti fandom debate is akin to pretending that "should we have the death penalty" is a discussion that only matters in Death Note discourse — the extent and manner to which fiction affects reality is an issue that is immediately relevant to today's US politics, and to summarize my opinions on the matter in fandom terms would be to diminish the ways this debate is affecting america Right The Fuck Now. and i have stopped taking "this person is bad for shipping the wrong anime thing and being horny about it" in any sort of good faith ever since I saw it literally used as part of a GOP smear campaign against a transgender state legislator in an attempt to defend the right from backlash after they used their supermajority in the Montana house to prevent her from speaking on the floor. Anyway I think everyone on this site, especially Americans, could benefit from ceasing to think in proship v anti vocabulary and instead developing coherent political positions on the nature of fiction that do not directly align with current fascist political tactics)
#oof lots of tags ahead#social#fandom discourse#it's rly hard to be concise about why anti-fandom stuff hits different from other types of fandom wank in short tags or a brief comment#this is not your regular “is luke skywalker evil for blowing up a space station” or “is inuyasha better off with kikyo or kagome”#these conversations can be fun or contentious but ultimately have no bearing on rl. meanwhile current discourse leans towards-#“should dark fiction be allowed to exist?” “should we maintain accepting spaces for mature fans?” “is fiction always literal?”#“is this person Dangerous IRL for the stories they engage with?” “should we kick them out? All Of Them? From Everywhere?”#2010’s conservatism in online spaces was & still is convincing. it regurgitates all conservative talking points that have Always Worked#eg. video games make people violent. deviant sexualities/orientations/identities are dangerous to families. limit childrens' resources.#except this time make it Fandom. except this time the characters and stories are all Literal. they're all Real. not narratives but copies.#and when the motivation for a point is virtue signaling and reactionary moralism and scandalized emotions over critical thinking-#-It Will Always Work. especially bc anyone who saw the writing on the wall (bc this isn't the first time this happened) got shut down Quick#bc “you just care too much.” it's not an issue about censorship- “it's anime.” it's not shoving members out of queer spaces-#(at a time where for a lot of us in intolerant environments FANDOM WAS OUR QUEER SPACE and for plenty STILL IS)#-“it's just the internet” where nothing that happens has any bearing on rl culture or consequence. which is a sentiment that's aged well#all of it tying in with big entities like twitter & google purposefully directing engines to prioritize revenue via clicks/viewership-#-and constantly pushing users to see & engage with contentious threads (you can look up “Tristan Harris - US Senate June 25 2019” on YT)#that fucked up users' perception of How To Address Conflict 101 bc fans speaking out against anti stuff ig got conflated with Moral Callout#instead of “hey please don't do x bc of abc reasons”-disagreeing now meant you had to FIGHT and gun for some big mic-drop moment of Victory#so fewer spoke up when all this snowballed bc it got harder to just SAY that a ship isn't real and a trope is only narrative#fast forward to today. people of all ages have been soaking in this culture and take it to other facets of their lives#Should There Be Kink At Pride & other queer events? Is my discomfort/lack of understanding equivalent to something outright attacking me?#Did You Know That People Use This Website For Sex Work or other adult-focused services? or even just a creative outlet? should it be banned#IS MY DISCOMFORT SOMETHING I SHOULD ADDRESS AND MANAGE? Or do Others bear the responsibility of catering their worlds around it?
34K notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Wild West Gang - Noncon
Your life is all planned out for you. Marriage. Children. Settling down in your little town and growing old. But a gang of outlaws and their wicked desires change everything.
Tags: (6) yandere males x fem reader, noncon, loss of virginity, choking, spitroast (hell yeah), oral fixation, 12.3k words
I blame the ridiculously talented @fangdokja and The Red Ledger for inspiring this btw.

They came for you in the middle of the day.
Shameless. Better men would at least wait for nightfall, would at least try and hide their intentions behind the cloak of darkness. Not them though.
They kicked the door in when your family was just about ready to eat lunch, the food still steaming and your ma still in her apron.
You didn't even have time to scream.
One outlaw smashed his rifle butt into your pa's temple and the old man was out like a light, still clutching the knife he'd grabbed to defend you. Two others grabbed your mother and shoved her into the pantry, blocked the door with a tipped over cupboard.
You ran. Or tried to at least. They were crowded into your kitchen, laughing as you turned from one to the other.
"No way out, beauty."
"Too late to run now, darlin'. Shoulda started before we even got here if you wanted to get away."
"Look at her all scared. Ain't it just adorable?"
With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.
They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.
The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.
Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.
Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.
You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.
Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.
"Boss, let her ride with me."
"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."
"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."
"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."
It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.
"She's riding with me."
He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.
"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"
The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?
"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."
The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.
You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.
He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.
"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."
Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.
He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.
"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."
The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.
They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.
It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.
The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.
You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?
"You goin' first boss?"
The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.
"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."
That made some of them jeer and complain.
"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"
"We can be nice too. Really."
The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."
What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.
It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.
"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"
Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.
You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.
You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.
The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.
He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.
You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.
His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.
"Do you know why we took you?"
You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.
The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.
"Not the faintest clue, huh?"
He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.
He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.
There was a small, amused smile on his lips.
He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.
"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"
Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.
"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."
He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."
He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.
He sighed, caught one on his thumb.
"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."
Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.
You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.
The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.
He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.
"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"
Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.
He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.
You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.
"Good. Not so hard, is it?"
The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.
Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.
He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.
You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.
You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.
He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.
His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.
"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."
He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.
His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.
All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.
God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.
He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.
He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.
He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.
With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.
But oh, it felt good.
Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.
You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.
You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.
"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"
If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.
Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.
"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."
He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.
His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.
"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"
You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.
"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."
His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.
You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.
His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.
"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."
He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.
Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.
Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.
But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.
"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."
Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.
He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.
You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.
He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.
"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"
You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.
He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.
Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.
No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.
It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...
It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.
He huffed out a laugh.
"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."
He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.
"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."
He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.
"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"
You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.
"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"
He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?
"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."
He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.
"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"
He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.
"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."
You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.
He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.
"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."
You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.
"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."
A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.
You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.
You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.
He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.
He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.
He pulled back and tilted your chin up.
"Look at me."
You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.
"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"
All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.
He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.
"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."
He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.
When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.
"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"
He ran his fingers through your hair.
"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."
You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.
You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.
You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.
"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."
"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."
They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.
You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.
"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."
"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"
You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.
One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.
"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."
The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.
"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."
That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."
The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.
"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"
He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.
"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."
The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.
"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"
The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.
He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.
He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.
"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"
You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.
The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.
He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.
When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.
"What do you want?"
The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.
"I'll take her mouth."
Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...
"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."
They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.
You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.
The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.
Smack.
Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.
One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."
The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.
"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"
The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.
His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.
"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."
The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.
He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...
He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.
"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."
That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.
He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.
The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.
"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"
You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.
He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.
You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.
"All better?"
Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.
"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."
He tilted his head, smirking.
"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"
You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.
The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.
"None of that. You can take it."
"I can't! It hurts."
His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?
"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."
He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.
He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.
"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"
What was he talking about? Your teeth?
Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.
The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.
It was huge.
Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.
It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.
"Ain't it a sight?"
He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.
"Come have a closer look."
Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.
He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.
"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."
The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.
"Atta girl. Now open wide."
You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.
You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?
You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.
He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.
"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."
He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.
"Are you gonna join me or what?"
The other gunslinger snorted.
"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."
You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.
Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.
You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.
"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."
"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."
His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.
"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."
They both pushed into you at the same time.
Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.
The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.
He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.
You couldn't breathe.
You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.
Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.
Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.
You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.
It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.
You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.
The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.
He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.
They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.
The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.
The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.
The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.
That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.
When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.
That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.
The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.
He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.
The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.
"Best fuck I've had in ages."
His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.
He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.
He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.
"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."
The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"
"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."
"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."
"And we do?"
He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.
"No," he said quietly, "We don't."
He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.
When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.
"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."
There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.
"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.
"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."
He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.
You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.
You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.
You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.
Traitorous body, traitorous mind.
You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.
Right?
When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.
"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"
His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.
You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.
You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.
"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."
He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.
"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."
You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?
It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.
The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.
"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."
He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.
There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.
You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...
He untied your hands without letting his own wander.
You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.
"Will you let me go?"
"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"
"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."
He closed his eyes.
"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."
"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"
He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.
"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."
You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.
"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."
He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.
He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.
He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.
"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."
He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.
"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."
His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.
He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.
"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"
You did. You wanted this day to end.
You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.
"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"
It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.
You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.
You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.
Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.
He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.
It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.
You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.
You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.
And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.
Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.
He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.
"So that's how you like it, huh?"
You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...
He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.
There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...
Oh.
Of course.
You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.
"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."
You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.
His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.
He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.
"Open your mouth for me, beauty."
You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.
He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.
He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.
Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.
At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.
Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.
He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.
You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.
It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.
He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.
"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.
When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.
He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.
A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?
He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.
"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"
He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.
You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.
His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.
It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.
"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"
You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.
He hummed against your neck.
"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."
You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.
"I'm sorry."
He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.
"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."
He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."
You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?
The door opened with a bang.
"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."
The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?
The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.
When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.
"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"
"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."
The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear.
"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."
He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.
When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.
When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.
They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.
He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.
The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.
"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."
The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.
"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."
He caught one of your wrists and tutted.
"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"
He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.
"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."
You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.
The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.
"Do... do you want this?"
The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.
" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"
"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.
The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."
"But..."
The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.
"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"
"Yes but -"
"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."
The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.
"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."
That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.
"What do I do?"
"Open her legs and start eating."
He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.
When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.
You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.
"I can't."
He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.
"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"
The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.
"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."
The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.
"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."
The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.
He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.
The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.
"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"
His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.
"Be a good little pet and open your legs."
You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?
The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"
He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off.
"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."
He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.
They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.
"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."
The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.
You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.
The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.
"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"
The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.
"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."
The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.
His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.
And then, he did it again.
You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.
You made another small, involuntary sound.
The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"
The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.
He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.
The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.
"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."
You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.
He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.
"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"
The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.
You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.
"Please," you whined. "It's too much."
The gunslingers snickered at that.
"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"
"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."
"And we're real good at keeping secrets."
The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.
"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"
You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.
The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.
You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.
You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.
You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.
Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.
It felt fucking incredible.
The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.
The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.
He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.
"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."
"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."
Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.
"Please, enough. I...can't..."
The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.
"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."
You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.
"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."
Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.
The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.
"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."
"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"
He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.
"Five more minutes. Please."
The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"
He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.
"But you said -"
"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."
The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.
"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."
"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."
When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.
He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.
"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."
His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.
"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."
You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.
He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?
You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.
A hand caught the door before it closed.
Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?
The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.
You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.
He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.
It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?
"Hello dove."
You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised.
He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.
He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.
He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.
"It must hurt."
You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.
He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.
"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."
You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.
"Why do you care?"
"You think we don't care?"
You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?
He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.
"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."
You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.
You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.
He sighed again.
"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."
"Why?"
He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.
Finally, "You don't remember me."
You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.
"No."
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.
"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."
You frowned, totally blank.
"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."
He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.
"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."
You couldn't see where this was going.
"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."
You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.
"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."
You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.
You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."
That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.
"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."
You could hear a smile in his voice.
"And you believed me?"
"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."
He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"
"Yes."
He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.
"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"
He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.
"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."
"Why?"
"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."
You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.
"Will you let me go when you're done?"
He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.
"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."
He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.
"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."
"Why now? Why..."
His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.
"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."
"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.
"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."
"The others..."
"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."
He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.
"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.
"Why did I let the others have you first?"
You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.
"Because I want the most time with you."
He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.
But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.
He laid a palm on your thigh.
"They got you for an hour each maybe. But I'm going to have you all night."
#Poly yanderes#Yandere Cowboys#Yandere Wild West#Yandere outlaws#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#reader insert#x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x you#yandere lemons#yandere noncon#male yandere#yandere x darling
6K notes
·
View notes
Text

In the pines||Remmick x reader
MDNI+18
Summary—You wake up soaked from a dream you shouldn’t have had—one where Remmick had his fangs in your throat and his cock buried deep inside you. But it wasn’t just a dream. He’s real, watching, waiting… and when he lures you into the woods in the dead of night, there’s no turning back. You’re his. Body, blood, and soul.
SMUT WARNING (18+ only): This is a dark, explicit one-shot featuring Dom!Remmick and a sub!reader. Includes trance/dub-con, voyeurism reference, predator/prey dynamic, biting, bloodplay, venom/aphrodisiac drool, rough sex (doggy style and missionary), overstimulation, chain kink, degradation & praise, multiple orgasms, light breathplay, dirty talk, possessive obsession, and deeply feral energy. Read responsibly.
A/n the was requested by an anon on @ice-man-goes-bwoah
@abriefnirvana @spikeyfearn
The sheets were soaked.
You jolted awake with a strangled gasp, thighs clenched and pulse pounding between your legs. Your skin burned. Your tank top stuck to you with sweat, your panties utterly ruined. The ache in your core throbbed like a bruise.
Dream. You blinked at the ceiling. But it hadn’t felt like a dream.
You could still feel his hands on you.
Remmick.
A laugh, low and cruel, echoed in your skull.
You thought you were safe.
You thought I’d stay away.
You were wrong, darlin’.
Your breath hitched. The air in the room had changed. He was here.
You sat up. The window was open.
Cool wind spilled in from the woods, carrying the scent of moss and smoke and something darker. Your feet hit the floor before your brain caught up. You didn’t grab a coat. You didn’t even put on shoes.
Something in your body needed to find him.
The forest was pitch-black, but you didn’t feel fear. The night air curled around you like fingers, whispering in a voice not quite your own.
You walked deeper. Through brush and root, over moon-drenched patches of stone. The wind spoke.
“Come on, sugar. That’s it. Come find me.”
There was no thought. Only heat, and hunger, and the echo of a dream you were still wet from.
Then he stepped from the shadows.
Remmick.
Tall. He wore a button-up shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and his suspenders hung down by his waist. His shoes were caked with dirt, and the thin chain necklace swayed around his throat, glinting as he tilted his head. And those eyes—glowing like red hot coals—devoured you.
“Couldn’t stay away,” he drawled, voice deep, lazy, laced with both Southern molasses and something old and Irish, ancient like the woods. “Knew you’d come crawlin’. You’ve been dreamin’ ‘bout me again, haven’t ya, mo grá?”
You swallowed thickly.
“I—”
“Don’t lie. I smelled it. Watched you fuckin’ grind on them sheets like a bitch in heat.”
Your knees buckled. Your thighs trembled.
He was in front of you before you could blink.
“Felt every little whimper through the trees,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “Felt you clenchin’ ‘round nothin’. Cryin’ for me. So I came to see my girl. Thought I’d give you what you needed.”
His hand slid between your thighs. Your panties were soaked through.
“Aw, hell,” he hissed, grin curling sharp. “You are drippin’.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. “Should’a come sooner.”
You gasped as he scooped you up, your back pressed against the nearest tree. Bark scratched your shoulders as his mouth found your neck kissing it and biting marking you.
Once he was satisfied, he yanked back, fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to bruise. “Open,” he growled.
You obeyed, staring up at him with your mouth wide. Remmick’s lips curled into a wicked grin, a thick string of drool sliding from the corner of his mouth. He leaned in close, breath hot and heavy, and tilted your head back like you were nothing but prey.
Then the venom spilled—slow, deliberate—onto your tongue, thick and burning as it hit your throat. You went limp with a strangled moan. Dazed. Blown open with heat. His saliva slicked your skin, and the world tilted.
“Mm. That’s it. Let go for me, sugar.”
He dropped to his knees and shoved your panties aside with no ceremony.
Then his mouth was on you.
Remmick ate like a starved man, tongue filthy, slow, teasing.
“So goddamn sweet,” he groaned, voice muffled. “Like honey and fuckin’ sin.”
You were writhing, sobbing, grinding helplessly against his face.
One thick finger slid inside you.
Then two.
“Can’t even fuckin’ wait,” he growled, rising to his feet, licking your slick from his lips like a promise. “Need this cunt now.”
He spun you around, bent you over a mossy boulder. You barely caught yourself in time.
“Back arched,” he barked, grabbing your hips. “Ass up. Show me that fuckin’ needy little pussy.”
You whimpered as he shoved his cock against your entrance, teasing.
“Beg.”
“Please, Remmick,” you cried. “Please fuck me—need it—need you—”
SLAP.
A harsh smack to your ass made you jolt.
“Damn right you do.”
And then he was inside.
All the way.
You screamed.
“Fuckin’ tight,” he snarled, rolling his hips. “Grippin’ me like you’re starvin’. You love this, don’t ya?”
You couldn’t speak—only moan, already clenching around him as the first orgasm slammed through you.
“Shit, already?” he barked, feral. “Just like that? Thought I was gonna have to work for it, slut.”
He didn’t slow.
Thrust after brutal thrust, he drove into you like a man possessed. His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he pounded into your soaked cunt from behind.
“You’re my pretty little fucktoy, huh?” he hissed in your ear. “Let me ruin you, sugar. Let me fuckin’ break you.”
Your legs were shaking. You couldn’t breathe.
Then he pressed two fingers to your clit—and you shattered again, sobbing.
He flipped you over onto your back, caging you in the moss.
His eyes were dark now, chain swinging freely over your face as he hovered above you.
“I love watchin’ you like this,” he purred, voice a slurred mix of drawl and brogue. “All wrecked. All mine.”
The chain hit your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you. You moaned around his tongue, tasting venom.
“Open your legs. Wider.”
You obeyed.
“That’s my girl.”
He slammed into you again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.
“Count your fuckin’ orgasms,” he growled.
“I—uh—two—”
“Wrong.” He snapped his hips. You cried out. “Three. That one on my tongue? That counted.”
You nodded frantically.
He grabbed your throat, gentle but firm, his grip pulsing as he rutted into you.
“You’re gonna give me seven,” he snarled. “That pretty little pussy can take it. You were made for me. Made to be fucked like this.”
You were sobbing, begging, drooling.
His chain bounced with each thrust, smacking lightly against your lips, your nose, your flushed cheeks.
And then—
He bit you again.
You came with a scream, body spasming under his weight.
“That’s four, sugar,” he growled, licking your blood from his lips. “Ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you’re gushin’.”
You lost count.
You came until your thighs shook violently, until you were clawing at his back, until your voice was hoarse from screaming his name.
He praised you. He degraded you.
“Such a good slut for me.”
“Dumb little hole, just made for cock.”
“You’re so perfect when you cry.”
“Mine. All mine.”
When he finally came, it was with a deep growl and his fangs buried in your throat. He spilled inside you, marking you, biting hard enough that you saw stars.
You were boneless, trembling, completely ruined.
He stayed on top of you for a while, pressing kisses to your bloodied throat.
“You ain’t ever gonna dream ‘bout no one else now,” he whispered, voice soft and possessive. “I’m in your fuckin’ blood, darlin’.”
You blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked.
He smiled.
“Good girl.”
#remmick x reader#remmick smut#remmick sinners#remmick#remmick x you#Remmick x fem!reader#sinners#sinners 2025#sinners movie#jack o'connell#Jack o’Connell smut
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
THINGS YOU DO THAT THE BATBOYS FIND ATTRACTIVE ! batboys x reader
“God, you’re impossible. And I’m so screwed, because I think I’d let you ruin me.”
— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts in jasons & bruces part (maybe dick too??)
© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.
∿ . `💭` ㆍ
JASON TODD
the way you hold eye contact when you're angry
It started as a slow simmer—your voice, low and clipped, each word deliberate, sharp enough to slice through the heavy Gotham air. Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell you were mad about anymore. The way your eyes were locked on his, unwavering, lit from within by something electric—it drowned out everything else.
You stood across the room, spine straight, chest rising with each measured breath. Not yelling. Not crying. Just...burning. And looking at him.
There was something about that. The way you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Like you could take every jagged, bloodstained part of him and still meet him dead-on, like you’d never blink first. It made his heart twist in his chest, something old and animal uncoiling inside him. He’d faced down murderers, monsters, lowlife scumbags—but the fury in your gaze made his throat go dry. Not because he feared it. Because he wanted to touch it. touch you.
You took a step forward, the kind that didn’t echo but reverberated, and that subtle movement—how your hands stayed relaxed at your sides, how your mouth didn’t tremble when you spoke—undid him.
“Don’t try to bullshit me, Jason.”
There was a beat. One taut, blistering moment where the only thing louder than your breath was the pounding in his ears.
And then he laughed. Just a breath of it, almost involuntary. The kind of laugh you get when something hurts and turns you on at the same time. He didn’t even mean to. It just escaped him.
You frowned, and that only made it worse. He wanted to bite your lip just to see if your mouth would still taste like fire when it was pressed against his. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you so hard it left bruises.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, almost reverent.
You blinked at that—but didn’t back down. And the way your stare softened just a fraction, that flicker of confusion folding into resolve again... yeah. That did it. That almost ended him right then and there.
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a lit fuse. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to pull, to anchor.
“You gonna hit me?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous and barely hanging on.
You tilted your chin up. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”
God. That. That right there. The grit in your voice. He could live off that kind of defiance. He wanted to.
Jason had never been good at softness. He didn’t know what to do with people who crumbled. But you—? You held his gaze like a storm, like a girl who could kill him with her silence, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was beg for a second chance to make you smile again.
Not because he deserved it. Because he’d die trying to.
DICK GRAYSON
the way you reach for him in your sleep
It starts small. Always does. You shift once, twice—barely there. Then your hand moves, unthinking. Across sheets warm with your shared heat, it searches.
You don’t know you're doing it. That’s what makes it criminal. You’re not asking to be loved in that moment. You’re assuming it. Trusting the world to place him where he belongs: next to you.
And Dick—poor, cursed Dick—is already awake.
He lies still, pretending. Letting you find him. Every nerve is alight, tuned to the sound of your breath, the whisper of cotton as your wrist brushes the inside of his arm. Then—finally—your hand finds his chest, right over the scar where a blade once tried to make him quiet forever.
Your fingers twitch. Then still. Then curl.
And that’s it. That’s all it takes.
He’s not thinking about villains or masks or the weight of his last name. He’s not worried about who’s watching, or whether he’s enough. He’s just a man now.
A man undone by the way you, unconscious and vulnerable, reach for him like he’s home. Like your body knows him, wants him, chooses him—without performance, without pride.
And it’s just so fucking sweet. The sweetness that life had never thought him deserving of—never bothered to offer, as if the universe had forgotten him in some quiet corner—was suddenly there, in you. And only then did he realize what he had been starved of.
There’s something maddening about your vulnerability—how you press against him in sleep, skin warm and scent-heavy, mouth parted just slightly. Innocent, yes. But not harmless.
Not to him.
He could write an entire religion based on the way your breath hitches when his hand covers yours. He could burn entire cities if someone tried to pull you away while you sleep.
Because this—this secret, sacred moment where you choose him without knowing— is the kind of thing he’s never let himself want.
But now that he’s had it, he knows.
He’ll want it forever.
BRUCE WAYNE
the way you tilt your chin when you're defiant
It is the tiniest gesture—a tilt of the chin, so slight it might pass for nothing at all. But to him? It is semaphore, a flare in the dusk, a gauntlet tossed with exquisite subtlety.
You do it when you disagree. Not with loud words or theatrics. No. You just raise your chin. Barely. As if your body is saying, “I’m not afraid of you.”“I’ll meet you there, if you push.”
And God help him, he wants to push.
You do this thing where your jaw tightens just slightly, where your eyes go sharp and patient at the same time—like you’ve already calculated the cost of standing your ground and decided to pay it anyway.
You look… royal. As though Gotham’s grime never dared graze your skin. Like tragedy tried and failed. Like you’d walk into fire if it meant protecting what’s yours.
And that infuriates him.
Because Bruce—Bruce—knows what defiance costs. He’s worn it like armor. Bled for it. Buried people because of it.
But when you do it?
It doesn’t look like self-destruction. It looks like purpose. Power. Something beautiful he was never allowed to have.
He wants to touch your face when you tilt your chin like that. Wants to grab your wrist and pull you into him—not to overpower, but to understand. To memorize the blueprint of that defiance. To feel it against his mouth.
You make silence feel like war. And he’s losing.
Because there is something deeply, dangerously erotic about a woman who doesn’t flinch when she should. Who doesn’t soften to make him comfortable. Who looks at the darkest thing in him—and doesn’t look away.
He’s not used to being watched like that. He’s not used to wanting to be watched like that.
And every time you lift that chin, he’s reminded of exactly how easy it would be to give up the act, the mask, the fiction of the untouchable man—
—all for one person who sees him and doesn't look away.
#theyre so freaky. my little freaksters#bruce wayne x y/n#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne smut#batman x you#batman x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd fic#jason todd smut#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#dick grayson fic#x reader#reader insert#red hood x you#red hood x reader#nightwing x you#nightwing x reader#dcu
3K notes
·
View notes