#mistaken con man

[garthnadermemestash]

Even moar trump mugshot memes

[jodienotmedia]

Jodie casillas is NOT real media. 

Jodie casillas is NOT a Nurse.

Jodie casillas is not a feminist. 

[soubiapologist]

the agony of my hair being too long to really closet cosplay soubi anymore. also my roots. many such cases

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Art of Hospitality (yan!Nanami x fem!Reader)

Nanami comes home to his favorite roommate. He is hurt and tired...but he knows who will instantly make him feel better. Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink, groping, praise kink AO3

You accidentally took his shirt from the laundry. Nanami thinks it’s an accident – he isn’t sure that you’re dumb enough to genuinely not realize that you were wearing a man’s clothes for a while already, but he doesn’t think you’re brave enough to flirt with him like this either. You’re stuck between being dumb and being too abrasive in your act – and honestly, Kento can deal with the dumb ones. Always a pleasure to spend some time with a person who knows when to shut up. 

You look simply divine like this – tugging a shirt that is too big for you in your tiny shorts, carefully rolling the sleeves up so they won’t get splashed while you are doing the dishes. Nanami never asked you to pull up with so many domestic responsibilities – but it was expected. He already allows you to live here without paying rent, so…only natural you’d be his housewife in everything besides affection. He knows how careful he must be – you’re innocent, as some college dropout can be, and you don’t really think of him like that. At least, he thinks you aren’t – he is sure that were you a bit braver, you’d already sleep in his bed instead of a tiny guest bedroom. If you’d wear his shirt on any other day of the week, he would simply note this in his head and proceed with his day. Maybe stare a bit, imagining your curves hidden by the baggy fabric, catching glimpses of skin whenever you roll it up a bit too high. If it was on any other day, he’d just smile and proceed to go to his study.

But you had to pull his shirt out of the laundry on the exact day when he dragged his body home from a particularly nasty fight with a curse. The thing was defeated – something about fear of bug larvae, the sound it made while being dissected by his knife was something that Nanami wouldn’t forget for a long time, even with an ample amount of alcohol. You just had to be cute and adorable and domestic and wear his clothes on a day when he wanted it most. Where all of his desires of retirement amplified, pushing for a fantasy that was just out of reach. 

Until he saw you cleaning the dishes with the tenacity of a proper housewife. Nanami knew he had to keep himself in check – knew how much he’d scare you with this. Still, at that moment, he wanted nothing more but to push you on that kitchen counter, roll his shirt even higher on your body, and use you like a proper domestic wifey you are. 

— You did the laundry? 

He slips right behind you, hands on your waist. It’s a gesture that cannot be mistaken for anything other than affection – and you get stiff immediately, not sure of what to do. He hopes you’d be a smart girl and won’t defy him. He doesn’t have patience for brats right now – no matter how adorable they might look. You take a deep breath and release it, relaxing in his hold. He squints, a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. What a boedient thing you are. 

— I did the dark ones, yes. I wanted to do the whites as well, but there wasn’t enough, so… You trail off, your hands shaking just a little bit. Nanami notices and leans on you a bit, pressing you against his chest. Your breath hitches again, panic evident in your body. He wants you to relax – and so he slips one of his hands across your waist, pressing you even closer to him. You have to get used to the heat of his body eventually. Nanami isn’t known for charity work and you’d have to pay him back one way or another – and currently, you only have one way of achieving this. 

Nanami pressed his hand more firmly against your waist, squishing you between his body and the counter. You are forced to relax into his touch – with no way of getting out, it’s only obvious why you’d be this scared. Poor, dumb girl. No idea what is coming to her. — You washed my things as well? You put the dishes on the drying stand, wiping your hands with the nearest towel. There is a certain clumsiness in your actions – like you were trying to remember how to act properly on the go. Like you tried your hardest to be a perfect housekeeper without looking too desperate. Although he likes that air of eagerness around you. 

— I wanted to do something for you, sir. While I can’t get a proper job. The little snag didn’t go unnoticed. Every time you try to convince him that you finally got some part-time position, something minimal wage and extra working hours, he will always say that working like this would be useless – that you need a real job if you truly want to build up your experience. After some time, you stopped even looking for openings, instead marinading yourself in your meager savings and looking after the house. Sometimes you wondered if he just wanted to get a free house worker – but then again, he let you live in this big house without paying rent or even groceries. The only reason you’re still here is because he is generous…and you don’t want to think about the reasons behind it.

Spending time around so many people with loud personalities, Nanami craved someone simple. Easy. Nice and quiet – and a girl who is too helpless to survive on her own is just that. Some people are not meant to survive on their own, and there is a certain dignity in relying solely on help from others. 

He caresses your hands – you don’t understand why is he suddenly so affectionate after spending months not even bothering to learn your last name, but then you notice the smell of blood. Scratches on his hands. Something that smelled like wet dirt and metal. 

You turn away, bumping your nose into his chest. Kento looks…disheveled. With his tie lost, a few buttons were torn off from his perfectly ironed – you ironed it just a few days ago – shirt that was now covered in soil and blood. He looks like he just got into a fight – with no indications of who was on the winning side. You weren’t sure where he worked exactly – something corporate, you think, some cushy position that allowed him to escape overtime and get home at 6 PM sharp every day. Corporate people usually don’t return home looking like something tried to chew on them. 

— N…nanami, what…what happened? He sighs, rubbing his forehead. It seems like your question somehow irritated him – you don’t want to be like this, don’t want him to hate you. Yet, it’s almost like your worry is making him insanely angry somehow. You bite your lips, face scrunched in a worried expression. You don’t want him to die – or even just get slightly more injured. 

— Got into an accident. There is nothing to worry about. 

You’re definitely not buying it. Kento likes seeing you gushing over him – but knowing how anxious his little roommate can be, you’re certainly not going to let it go so easily. And he has no intentions of showing you the secrets of the world of jujutsu right now. If ever. 

— You got run over?! — No. 

— A dog attacked you?! — No. 

— Oh. You were robbed..? He sighs, thinking of how he still hasn’t come up with an excuse. He should have – but the fight was hard already, and the energy he spent working overtime on that curse didn’t make anything better. He loves your worry and your kindness, but he can’t deal with it right now. Somehow, he has to divert your attention. Somehow, he has to take this comfort he wanted from you and your body. 

— You’re wearing my shirt. 

Your eyes widened, heat spreading across your face. He sees that he has successfully distracted you – your hands are coming to cover yourself immediately, tugging on the wrist of the shirt as if trying to see if he is right. Seems like you really didn’t notice you were wearing something that belonged to him. God, what a dumb thing you are. What did he do to deserve such a blessing? You take a step to the side, trying to escape the trap of his hands – but Nanami is not having it. With a grunt, he is forcing you in front of him again, making sure you’re set here, nice and comfortable. Trapped close to him – like he’d ever let go of someone as precious as you. He might be a lot of things – a workaholic, an extremely tired individual with love for useless and dumb sunshine girls, but he is not stupid. Letting you go now will only increase the gap between the two of you – and not even in a sense of age. 

— I’m…oh. I’m really sorry, sir, it must have been mixed in the laundry and… He snorts. The sound is weird, alien to someone like him – you look up, surprised he even bothered to listen to you. You really got him acting so weird…it’s almost an achievement. Somehow, you don’t feel like you won something. 

— You didn’t even notice it was too big? 

— I have some oversized clothes. — Something that your ex left you? 

You find yourself wordless at the accusation. It doesn’t sound too weird at first – but the harshness in his voice is making you shiver. His hands are on your waist again, holding you in a gesture that can’t be platonic – and this is the first time he paid so much attention to you. You feel uncomfortable. You feel desired, somehow. Nanami smells of blood and you find yourself aroused at it. Are you really that weird of a person? Fighting the urge to press your nose in his shoulder and breathe in his musk, mixed with blood, sweat, and that wonderful perfume he is using? The scent of which was traveling with you the whole morning ever since you took the shirt out of the laundry. Did you truly not know it was his? Somehow, you aren’t so sure now. 

— I…I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, sir, I will…

You insist on calling him “sir” despite your age gap being not that terrible. He couldn’t be your father – yet he has this aura about him that makes you a bit afraid. Just a little nervous whenever he raises his voice or hums disarmingly. You don’t want to disappoint him, anxiety filling every bit of your existence when you think about this – he is doing so much, he has serious work and all you do is gush over housework and trying to play a role you were not made for. Never thinking how hard being a housewife might be. 

— You’re going to just take off it now? 

You freeze in place, not sure of how to answer. Nanami chuckles. You don’t want him so close to you, touching you like you’re in love – but he is hurt, stressed and covered in blood. He is  lonely man, you can understand this – who else would invite a girl to live with him because he spends so much time working outside of the house, he’d disappear for days on end and someone had to take care of the house? if he had a partner then, surely, you wouldn’t be here. It must be hard, for someone like him – but he seems so nice, so hardworking, despite the initial strictness…why is he single? 

You don’t feel comfortable with his chin resting on your shoulder, but you’re forcing yourself to relax. He had such a hard day, and he is still hurt. You might as well indulge him a little. 

— I don’t think it would be polite.

— Why not?

His hands slowly unbutton the lowest part of the shirt, the one that is hanging way below your stomach. He is not revealing any skin – but the feeling of his calloused fingers even through the fabric is a bit much to handle. 

— I’m a guest at this house. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the owner, right? His hand goes to grasp a few more buttons, making you stiffen. You don’t…don’t particularly want his hands in that area – almost under your chest, with a single brush of fingers enough to make you feel hot. Throbbing. Enough to make you question everything you know about him and…other things. You want to be a good guest, to not overstay your welcome – but it seems like the lines are getting more and more blurry each time. — I wouldn’t mind seeing you without it. — I’m really sorry I took it without asking you…

— You can get punished for it later. But…

Nanami presses his mouth on your neck, inhaling your scent. You smell like him – his cologne, his shower gel, the fabric softener he uses for his shirts, all the expensive things he knows you don’t have money for. You’re relying on his kindness and, well, he can be kind…if you’re willing to be good to him, of course. Good, obedient, and pretty girls deserve their rewards, after all. He has the perfect idea for just the one right now. You whimper when you feel his lips on your skin, when he nibbles on the sweet spot at the back of your neck. It can’t be mistaken for normal affection now – not with the way he keeps unbuttoning your shirt until there is barely enough to cover your breasts. His hand lays on your stomach, warmness spreading across the skin…there isn’t a lot you can do now. Your thoughts are mixed now, not sure of what to do to make him stop or to let him keep going. — Nana…no, Kento, I’m not really sure about… — Quiet, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, okay? 

You sigh, allowing him to just…touch you. Get sated with the feeling of your body in his arms – you don’t know how much time had passed, but he just rubs soothing circles into your stomach and breathes, occasionally peppering your neck with kisses. 

You want him to go further. 

You want him to stop. Maybe, it was just a few more minutes. Maybe, he took his time – you on;y woke up from that hazy, dream-like state when he suddenly yanked the rest of your shirt off, revealing your braless chest to the cold air of the house. You wanted to cover yourself – but your slow motions didn’t do you enough justice, as he easily grabbed your wrist in one of his hands. 

He kisses you again, and you move your head to the side to meet his lips. You don’t know what you want – you want to help him, to make his worries go away, but he is still smelling of blood and rust and you’d like to draw him a bath first. Maybe take care of him there. Maybe grab your things and run even though it would mean you’d be homeless. You can feel his erection pressing to the curve of your ass and you move involuntarily, sliding up and down – maybe in an attempt to escape, maybe in an attempt to allure. You want for him to say something, to command you to do something – be more forceful, be more kind, make everything better, and then do it much, much worse. You sigh, trying to just…

The phone is ringing. 

You manage to read the name. You wonder who the hell is Gojo Satoru. — I apologize for this. – Nanami whispers in your ear, getting away from you. Still keeping a hand on your waist, holding you down as firmly as possible. Not that you have any strength left in your legs to go anywhere. You’re waiting for Nanami to finish the call. Something is telling you that he just found a way to make you pay for staying with him for so long.

[heizlut]

Don’t Run

cw: dub-con, public (no one is around though)

tags: dom!tighnari, sub fem!reader, breeding kink, knotting, animal instincts, reader is a lil ditzy but we love her, not proof read

nsfw under the cut

check out my masterlist here!

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼

You weren’t exactly the brightest girl Tighnari had ever worked with. You were always in your own little world. Despite these qualities, Tighnari found himself unable to let you leave his side even if you were actually a bit of a hinderance to his work. He found it fascinating to watch you as you walked the forest with him or sat with him as he wrote his reports.

On this day in particular, you and Tighnari were out in the forest to check up on the withering zones that had been recently cleared. His eyes kept glancing over to you as you hummed an unfamiliar tune seemingly lost in your own thoughts. Tighnari’s ear twitches when you suddenly go quiet and your eyes dart over to something in the distance. “What is it?”, he asks you, slightly concerned with how quickly your attention shifted. You tilt your head to the side slightly and small laugh escapes you, as if watching something in the distance that was rather entertaining, “It’s those little aranara!” Tighnari scoffs, “Those creatures are just childhood whims. You must be mistaken.” He raises an eyebrow at you as you turn to face him with a mischievous smile on your face.

“Don’t you even think about running-“, Tighnari’s stern command was promptly cut off as you took off into the forest to chase after what you had seen. Seeing you run from him triggered a primal urge within him to chase you down and make you his. A low growl escapes his throat and his eyes darken as he gives into his urges. Before you can make it to where you could’ve sworn to have seen the aranara, a heavy weight knocks you to the ground; strong, lithe arms wrap around your body to protect you from the fall.

Looking up in shock, you see a look on Tighnari’s face that you had never seen before, “Nari, what’re you-“ He cuts you off as he turns you to your hands and knees, his growing bulge pushing up against your ass, “Don’t move.” His voice is low and strained as he fights against fully giving into his urges and tearing your clothes off right then. Going against his words, you squirm slightly in his grasp, drawing a hiss from him as your ass rubs against his straining cock. Tighnari pushes your head against the ground with one hand and uses the other to lift your hips, “I told you not to move.”

He throws his head back as he rolls his hips into you, “Fuck.. I can’t hold back. Please let me have you.” You whimper and mutter the okay he was dying to hear. Without second thought, he tugs your pants and undergarments down just enough to expose your ass and glistening pussy. Tighnari pauses a moment to admire the view before rubbing his thumb through your arousal and pressing down on your clit, “All this just for me…”, he mutters. A sharp breath is released from you as you feel his tongue flick against your clit as he laps at you like a starved man.

Before you can reach your peak, Tighnari pulls away and shoves his aching cock inside your wet, tight hole with one harsh thrust. Your eyes roll back as your mouth opens in a silent moan. He’s fucking into you so deep that your voice fails to work. “Mine mine mine. All mine”, he growls into your ear as his throbbing cock thrusts in and out of you slowly but with a mind numbing force. Tighnari licks up your neck before pressing sloppy kisses down the same spot. Soon you feel the base of his cock grow thicker as he pumps into you, causing you to let out small whimper. “Shhh just take it. You can take it. You’re doing so good for me”, He coos.

When Tighnari reaches the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, he bites down hard enough that he can taste your blood on his tongue. In this same moment, he pushes his knot fully inside of you as he spills his hot cum into your tight pussy. He presses a small kiss to his mating mark and mumbles apologies into your ear as he waits for his knot to go down, “You’re mine now. My mate…”

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼

a/n: idk what this is but we love a good brainrot full of the classic tropes🥴

[little-diable]

"Angel" He calls me – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Listen, this is fucked up – even I was unsure where this came from. But I ain't sorry for it, I know y'all will love this, you filthy heathen (i love you). Shamelessly inspired by the song "The Fruits" by Paris Paloma. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, smut in a church, heavy dub!con, choking, wax play, blood play, Tom being Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 2k words)

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him, I have no time for confession, for I'm too busy committing sins

“Priest Riddle!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the empty church, repeated with every further step she took. (Y/n) struggled against her mother’s grasp, feet dragged along the cold ground as if she prayed that the floor would open up, that something or someone would crawl from the eternal darkness to hold onto her, rescue her from the hell she would experience any moment now. “Priest Riddle!”

The tall man appeared after another loud call of his name, concern tugged on his features, a facade her mother instantly seemed to buy into; a facade (y/n) instantly saw through. Priest Riddle was a devilish handsome man, a man so handsome he easily fooled those who clung to him, distracting them from his sinful character. 

“Mathilda, (y/n), what is going on?” His bright eyes carried concern as he looked at (y/n)’s mother, concern that changed into something dark the second his gaze found (y/n)’s. Her mother’s torture was nothing against what he’d do to her, that much she was certain of after all those confessions she had been forced through – confessions that had ended with her knees having a carpet burn, with her ass bruised, and her jaw pulsing in pain from being stretched open. 

“She’s gone insane, I’ve found her worshipping the devil! He has his dark grasp on her, oh you have to free my girl, you’re my only chance of finding help for her sinning soul, Father!” Tears dripped from her mother’s eyes, tears (y/n) silently cursed. She had done no such thing, all she had done was read a book Priest Riddle had borrowed her, one of the few interests both shared – Latin prayers her mother had mistaken for satanic rituals as (y/n) had tried to pronounce the words. 

For a second, he studied (y/n), the annoyance she couldn’t shake, the wide pupils he had grown all too used to, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers at the excitement now thumping through his veins. “Leave her with me, Mathilda. She’s in good hands. I’ll take care of our girl.”

"Angel“ he calls me, does he know that I'm falling from a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Rituals, huh?” Her mother had left the church seconds ago, leaving the two of them behind. (Y/n)’s skin prickled, she was fighting against the need to scream, to throw a tantrum against her mother’s foolish behaviour. All because of him. 

“This is your fault! She heard me read that prayer book of yours.” Within seconds he stood in front of her, ringed hand wrapped around her throat. Her heart was pounding, blood rushing through her veins, he could feel (y/n)’s fast pulse against his fingertips, a sensation that left the man smirking. 

“My fault?” The way he spoke the words, with a voice so raspy and deep, (y/n) didn’t manage to stop her body from reacting, her thighs from trembling and her walls from clenching around nothing. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, all they did was stare at one another. “My fault, really, (y/n)?”

“I,” her words got stuck in her throat as he squeezed, cutting off her strength to pronounce any words. Priest Riddle always enjoyed silencing her, showing her how much power he held over her. (Y/n) was shoved backwards as he let go of her, watching her fall onto the stone stairs leading up to the altar. 

“You see, (y/n), your mother may think I’m the saving grace, the voice of reason, but I think you know better, don’t you? There is no saving left for you, no grace I can give you. The Devil would have tried to save you, what a shame that I’m not him.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears that began to drip as a laugh clawed through him. There was no escaping him, no matter how much her mind begged her to run, to never return to these unholy walls, her body craved his touch, desperate for everything he could offer. 

“Undress, lay down on the altar, for me.” It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, to undo the buttons of her dress with shaky fingers. Not once did her glassy eyes leave his frame, not as she stood naked, not as she slowly heaved herself onto the altar, not as she watched him alight the red candle placed next to the Holy Bible.

“Do you remember what John teaches us, (y/n)? He tells us: Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. But tonight you will sin, tonight you will offer yourself to the devil, even though he will never have you. He fears me, and he will fear my precious toy once I’m done with you.”

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” He was standing behind the altar, with his ringed fingers holding onto the burned candle. (Y/n) was forced to watch him tilt the candle, letting the wax drip down onto the valley between her naked breasts. She hissed at the sensation, torn between excitement and fear, and yet she craved more. 

“Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritalia nequitiae, in caelestibus.” Priest Riddle’s voice didn’t carry any emotion as he spoke the lines of the prayer to Saint Michael, a prayer used in exorcisms, a prayer he used to mock her now. The candle kept dripping, one by one the drops of wax marked her body, leaving (y/n) moaning as his cold hand joined the wax, touching her hardening nipples with a smirk growing on his lips. 

“Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas.” No longer did (y/n) try to keep her moans bottled in, she arched her back off the altar as he added more strength to his touch, tweaking her nipples as the wax dripped onto her stomach. It felt as if he was making an offering, sacrificing (y/n) for the sins they had committed together, giving her up for his eternal salvation. 

“Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, et ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.” The last drop of wax fell as Priest Riddle ended the prayer, tossing the blown-out candle aside to press his lips against (y/n)’s. Both moaned in unison as her fingers began to work on his belt, needing to free his cock with the silent hope that he’d fuck her on the altar spurring her on. 

He twitched in her grasp, a sensation so familiar, she found herself relaxing, giving her mind a few seconds to relax. Seconds he used to study her with danger laced in his gaze, danger that deepened as her eyes were drawn to his throat, watching him rip his silvery necklace from his neck. The necklace twinkled in the dim light, momentarily entrancing (y/n) as if she was studying a rare gem, an offering only God would make. 

“We have been bound together for months, you are my possession, and you will do as I say, you will let me lead you till I no longer think you’re worthy of my time.” He tightened his grasp on his necklace, and without another warning, he ran the sharp edge of the cross along his skin, instantly drawing blood. Blood so red, it looked like sacred wine, richer than Jesus’ blood, more powerful than any other offering.

He wiped his bleeding thumb along her lips, letting her taste the copper staining her skin like a tattoo made for eternity. They held eye contact as she parted her lips, letting her tongue lick his skin clean, unable to stop her moan from clawing out of her. She was nothing but a toy, someone he used to pass time with, someone to fuck whenever his body called for excitement – and she loved it, every fucked up second of their time together. 

Priest Riddle let go of her to position himself between her thighs, his fingertips dug into her skin as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Soon he’d fuck her, soon he’d remind her that she was his – his only. 

You're faithless, for you pitched me, against your holy father and it seems that I am winning

Without giving (y/n) any chance to prepare herself, he pushed into her, forcing his cock into her tightness. Her arousal allowed him to move without any struggles, moving as if their bodies had been made for one another. In some fucked up way she could have found something romantic in this, claimed in a church for all holy and unholy eyes to see, but the darkness he emanated was enough to keep her from thinking these thoughts. 

Months ago when this had happened for the first time, (y/n) had been frightened, not knowing what the man would do to her. But after the first of many orgasms had wrecked through her, she had felt like Judas, the backstabber, the liar she had been turned into. No longer held back by the fear of sinning, rather giving in – all for the promise of being punished by Priest Riddle. 

“Even the devil wouldn’t take you in, a soul filled with sins that even He would turn his back on. I’m your only rescue.” He panted his words as he buried himself deep inside of her, eyes staring down at her. Without stopping his movements, his hips from snapping against hers, he pushed the cross past her lips, forcing her to hold it between her teeth. (Y/n) could still taste his blood – heightening her senses as her walls fluttered around him. 

She hated herself for enjoying this, for being at his mercy with her legs spread and her back arched. He only spoke the truth, he was her only chance of guidance, the only one to cling to as the others had left her behind, engulfed in darkness. Her saving grace, the poison she was addicted to, the bruising grasp she couldn’t shake. 

“Cum for me, show them that there is no chance of rescuing you from me.” With the cross held between her teeth, she moaned for him. (Y/n)’s orgasm wrecked through her, leaving her shaking and panting beneath him. But the priest kept moving, searching his own high with his fingertips digging into her skin. 

A heavy moan rumbled through Priest Riddle as he came, imprinting himself on her walls without giving her a warning. Once again marked by the man who called her his own property, once again marked by the devil’s most brutal brother. 

“I need you on your knees, it’s time to beg for His forgiveness, (y/n).” 

……

Translation of the Latin prayer: 

St. Michael the Archangel, illustrious leader of the heavenly army, defend us in the battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of darkness and the spirit of wickedness in high places.

Come to the rescue of mankind, whom God has made in His own image and likeness, and purchased from Satan's tyranny at so great a price.

Holy Church venerates you as her patron and guardian. The Lord has entrusted to you the task of leading the souls of the redeemed to heavenly blessedness.

Entreat the Lord of peace to cast Satan down under our feet, so as to keep him from further holding man captive and doing harm to the Church.

Carry our prayers up to God's throne, that the mercy of the Lord may quickly come and lay hold of the beast, the serpent of old, Satan and his demons, casting him in chains into the abyss, so that he can no longer seduce the nations. Amen.

[konigsblog]

Victim!Reader seeing and recognizing Rapist!Simion out in public, but he dosent recognize reader since their not covered in their own tears/spit/etc? Or pretending he has no idea who they are to fuck with them

tw: rape, non-con. MDNI 18+

oh, he'll definitely act confused to fuck with your head.

although you worry that you're mistaking the entire situation, a part of you feels terrified and horrified standing in front of this bastard. your stomach churns and your face drops at the realisation, trying to get out of the alleyway as fast as you possibly can.

you always manage to get yourself in stupid positions, where your life is in jeopardy and you're being threatened. your bottom lip quivers at the sight and familiarity, feeling guilty and worrying that you've just mistaken an innocent man as your rapist

although you were drunk when this happened, the memory was vivid and strong, replaying in your head to traumatise you. your eyes glisten while the sky darkens and the cold air nips at your bare skin, watching as simon begins to unfasten his belt and pull a pocket knife out. he holds it against your neck, pushing you against the dirty ground. the concrete is wet from manchester's cold weather, simon cutting your panties off swiftly. you're silenced, unable to moan or mutter a noise as simon begins to shove himself inside the familiar warmth of your drooling pussy.

his pace is ruthless, shaming and degrading you for being compliant with him. you don't even put up a fight, as if this is what you want, to be taken advantage of and raped violently, in a way that leaves your body sore, cunt latching onto him. your pussy is glossy, body reacting to what simon forces onto you. your jaw falls slack the sharpness of the knife against your neck, simon's harsh and deep thrusts knocking your body forward and closer against tee knife.

each stroke and drag leaves your body yearning for your orgasm, while your mind screams at you for getting yourself into this position. weeks of doubting yourself and believing you're mistaken only for it to be the disturbing and morbid truth.

[dungeonpuppykai]

Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333 

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact. 

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly. 

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed. 

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you. 

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view. 

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head. 

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?" 

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…" 

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure. 

"Please–!" 

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face. 

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare. 

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so. 

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run. 

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled. 

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size? 

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable. 

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth. 

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly. 

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs. 

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air. 

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table. 

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper. 

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over. 

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either. 

Just what the hell is going on? 

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last. 

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly. 

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!" 

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves. 

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second. 

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you. 

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it. 

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room. 

. . . 

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket. 

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.  

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search. 

For you. 

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief. 

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them. 

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you. 

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were. 

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants. 

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head. 

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction. 

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end. 

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor. 

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you. 

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?" 

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words. 

Fuck. 

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes. 

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition." 

"C- Condition, s- sir?" 

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form. 

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge. 

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead. 

"Sir–" 

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety. 

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue. 

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock. 

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling. 

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now. 

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next. 

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!" 

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to. 

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle. 

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.  

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact. 

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration. 

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while. 

Then he told you that it would  feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good. 

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach. 

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot. 

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now." 

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders. 

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on. 

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy. 

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it. 

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body. 

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo. 

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably. 

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected. 

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well. 

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together. 

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much? 

That was, until one day…

. . . 

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you. 

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…" 

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately. 

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked. 

But you were too little to know those things. 

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house. 

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need. 

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior. 

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes. 

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat. 

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake. 

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place. 

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

[billskeis]

hiii! i really love your writings and im excited to see the new ones!

i was wondering if you could do a tom kaulitz fluff?

also no rush, i saw the new post so take your time!💜

ᡣ𐭩 shopping w tom

you and tom were out shopping at the mall, stepping into one of the stores, you look around to all the unfamiliar fabrics around you.

everything was so, tight-fitting.

you and tom had been dating for a while, and it has been going so well. you love him so much. however, for the time you have been dating tom, one of your biggest concerns as of now is that not once have you really wore anything feminine around him.

not that he cared.

tom was selfish, and very selfish in the fact that he wouldn’t want anybody else seeing the body you hid under the oversized clothes you wore everyday. in comparison to all the other girls tom has dated, they wore clothes that hugged their body snug, curves out on display 24/7.

not to say that you weren’t confident in your body, you very much were. you just found comfort in wearing clothes that didn’t have to suffocate you, comfort over anything. there were countless times you have been mistaken for a boy wearing clothes as such.

but for tom, he was the only person who could see your perfect body.

he was the only person who could relish in the true beauty you hid under all the layers of bagginess. he also adored how similar your styles were and that matching with each other was so easy, always buying two of the same shirts or sweaters for one another. he loved it a lot.

“what’s the matter?,” tom stands beside you as you hold the small, black body-con in your hands, the straps dangling off your fingers. “i don’t know if i like this, if we’re going out for dinner i want to be able to eat quite a lot. but this dress is soo gorgeous..”

he laughs at you and squishes your cheek between his thumb and index finger, you try to swat away his hand but he’s already dodging you.

“you are quite the eater,” he chuckles as you jokingly elbow the side of his body, smiling. “but whatever makes you most happy and comfortable, i will always love you and what you wear regardless.”

this man has you in a chokehold.

his way of words was so clever, whatever he said and did was always able to make your knees weak, you tilt your head at tom, staring, “i do want to be able to dress up for once..” biting your lip, tom’s eyes widen as he looks at you, the dress, and then quickly looks away. “mm, but baby you know how i feel about men.. they have no shame.”

“they can’t help but gawk their eyes at you even when you’re mine.”

he’s recalling the night were you were both out on a date, coming out the theatre from the movies. it wasn’t even anything dressy you were wearing but instead of a baggy t-shirt like you’d normally wear it was a crop top that showed off your midriff.

let’s just say it didn’t end well for that stranger, tom made it very clear who you were to him.

you pout, you weren’t upset at tom’s possessiveness, if anything it was quite hot. but you wanted to doll yourself up for your man. after all, he really deserves it for being the best boyfriend ever. “aw, but i really wanted to wear this tonight, it IS more for you than it is for me.” you smile innocently at tom who swallows hard, a little speechless at your words because you usually praise how you hate clothes like this.

what’s changed?

he imagines you in the dress, staring at your reflection in the full body-length mirror as you adjust the dress by the spaghetti straps. the dress sits right above your upper thighs, the whole thing showing off your cinched waist and chest. black was also such a sexy color, and it made tom go insane.

you definitely looked good.

as you fix your lip gloss, you bend your body a little closer to the mirror to see better, dress rising up a bit to reveal a bit of your butt.

snapping out of his imagination, tom stands behind you, snaking both his arms around your waist under your shirt, his arms warm. you feel yourself feeling a little hot and panic a bit as you’re in public. trying to escape the grip from him but to not cause a scene in the shop as you almost drop the dress on the floor doing so. he laughs at your attempts to get him off you and kisses your cheek quickly.

you grin at him, what is he doing? tom finally loosens his grip on you as he snatches the dress you were once holding and runs towards the cash, “hey—! what changed your mind?” you ask following behind him as you have a hold on his sweater like a pet-owner trying to control their dog. he stops in his tracks to look at you while the cashier rings up the dress.

tom brings both of his hands to each side of your waist, caressing it a bit while you simply just allow him. his touch is so familiar and comforting you cannot help but not stop him. did the both of you forget that you were in public? “hello? tom? you didn’t answer my question,” crossing your arms as he stops the movement of his hands now just staring at you and smiling brightly.

“wear that dress tonight, i can fight.”

[garthnadermemestash]

[icallhimjoey]

He actually cancelled con to see if we can pull off a fucking dirty martini in part three. Can girlie get it together?

we can but we can't, you know? it's.... we're real complex, aren't we? good thing joe's sort of into it :) Wordcount: 3K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The bickering worked. It was fun. It did something. Being a bit bitchy and sassy and sarcastic, making faces and rolling eyes, it all just worked.

You swam in it.

Wanted to live in it forever, you liked it so much. 

Joe looked extra nice when his stupid face was trying to suppress a smile, cheekbones on show, eyes all twinkly like a naughty schoolboy's.

“No thanks.”

Unbelievable.

And sure, it could be annoying when it happened in front of others, but now, with just you and him down in the bar, there was a tension that was impossible to ignore and the bickering kind of alleviated it enough to make it bearable.

To find amusement there.

A little bit of joy on these cold wet dreary December nights.

“No thanks.” Joe’d said when you offered a dirty martini. His face read he really didn’t want you to make one for him, but you knew if Martin had offered him one right now, Joe would’ve drank it dripping from his fingers if he had to.

To retaliate, you plonked down two martini glasses in front of you, and when Joe raised a challenging eyebrow, you said, “I’m thirsty.” which made him chuckle. 

You turned around to find the right bottles of liquor and when you spun back, Joe had sat down at the bar right in front of you. 

His eyes shot up from lower down when you looked right at him, and then they darted around for a second. 

You knew what he’d been looking at.

Rude, yes. But next time you’d make sure to bend over just a little.

When Joe looked at you again, you narrowed your eyes a second and stilled in suspicion. Joe smiled a little bashfully, knew he’d been caught, but wasn’t going to apologise for anything. 

“Martin says you’ve been dying to make me a drink.”

“Martin’s wrong,” you bit back immediately. “I’ve not been dying to make you a drink.” 

You were.

You absolutely were. 

“I just remember the first drink I ever made you–”

“Only.” He interrupted.

You stared at Joe a second. Blinked once. Twice.

“Only drink. The only drink you’ve ever made me.” Joe corrected you smugly, but pretended to be casual about it. Pushed his chin up and gestured with a hand for you to keep going, "But, go on."

The audacity of this man. Incredible.

You frowned and closed your eyes whilst you tried to find the right words, mouth ready to go, "What…?" followed by “the fuck?” perhaps, but the words never came out.

Instead, you put down the bottle and went, “You know what,” taking the two glasses and moving them down the bar a bit. Away from Joe.

“It’ll remain it.”

“No,” Joe laughed, immediately reaching out an arm across the bar that he then defeatedly rested his forehead on.

You moved the rest of your supplies down the bar too, and Joe looked at it for a moment, head still on his outstretched arm and, could he stop it already with this whole puppy dog face? The eyes, the pout?

The song ended and it was silent for jut a second, but that mere singular second felt excruciatingly long. It was just glass clinking and liquor pouring and you were being stared at from three barstools down, and then Joe got up and moved to sit right in front of you again and gave you a stupid little smirk, and, God.

You nearly dropped the jar of olives.

Made Joe laugh and silently mutter, “Oh my God,” like he couldn’t actually believe how cack-handed you were.

You ignored it.

Rose above it.

You didn’t, not really. You just couldn’t think of a come-back quick enough.

Finishing the drinks, you eyed Joe as you closed the jar of olives and the bottles of liquor used. Kept eyes on him in case he was going to reach over and take one of the glasses for himself.

He didn’t.

He stared right back at you though, all mischievous, waiting for what you were going to do with that second martini.

A flirtatious comment wouldn’t have felt misplaced, but you kept quiet. And so did Joe.

Obviously, that second martini was for him.

Were you just going to hand it over, though?

Of course not.

With everything somewhat tidied, you took both glasses, one in each hand, and took a tiny step backwards, just far enough out of reach that if Joe was to lurch forward, you’d be safe.

You went for a sip, but couldn’t hold in your laughter as you did. You got your mouth close, but not close enough to get an actual taste.

Your huffs of breath nearly blew the drink right from the glass, which only made you laugh harder.

Joe couldn’t help laugh with you, shaking his head before he dropped it, said, “Unbelievable.”

You had to put both glasses down to make sure you wouldn’t spill any, shoulders shaking as you giggled.

“Has Martin taught you nothing?” Joe said, standing up onto the footrest of the barstool to reach for a glass for himself, which, yea fine, he could take his dirty martini. You knew it’d be good and you knew he was going to eat his words in a second.

“Martin taught me plenty. This one’s on the house.”

Joe sat back down, dirty martini in hand, and you picked yours back up as well.

He smelled it first, winced slightly as if it stank, and you pretended offence.

Looking at him over your drink, you waited for Joe to take the first sip. You were so ready to accept a bitterly resentful compliment from him, were so excited to be able to rub it in his face for the literal rest of time. Or, you know, until you’d actually lose your job... not that you were a pessimist, but, you weren’t completely daft.

And Joe... he took a second. He waited to have a sip too. Raised an eyebrow, daringly so, but you were unsure what he was daring you to do.

So instead, you copied him.

Raised an eyebrow right back at him and then looked at the drink you made that he was holding. Saw how slowly, Joe made it reach his lips, tipped the glass slightly, and tasted what you’d just mixed for him.

The anticipation was high.

You eagerly awaited the review.

The rating.

Watched his face closely.

Waited to see how Joe was going to deal with drinking a perfect drink, made by your hand.

You held your own glass near your mouth, frozen, and waited.

Joe took a larger sip than you were expecting him to, a whole fucking gulp, and slowly set the glass back down as you saw him swirl the liquid around in his mouth.

His face read nothing.

He puffed out his cheeks and then sucked them in, was about to swallow and, fuck, you were so ready for him to tut, to groan, to fall down to his knees and to admit defeat.

But then, Joe didn’t swallow.

He didn’t fucking swallow.

Joe made eye-contact and instead of swallowing the huge gulp of alcoholic beverage, he leant forward a little, arms crossed on the bar, hanging heavily into his shoulders, and then he... he opened his mouth.

And he didn't open it to let a little drip out.

He opened his mouth wide.

Let whatever was in there just fall out back into the glass.

Let it splash and leak like a fucking waterfall.

Clear vodka, vermouth, brine had mixed with Joe's spit and was now leaking out of his mouth, over his chin and onto the bar in front of him where it ran down a little and wet the sleeves of his shirt.

Dumbfounded.

You couldn't fucking believe it.

What?

“Wha...” you couldn't even finish the word as your eyes grew in shock and your brow furrowed in confusion.

There was no way the drink was bad enough for Joe to not be able to even swallow it down.

“You um,” Joe held a fist to his mouth and grimaced. Looked at you like he was about to throw up. “You must have gotten some measurements wrong, I think...”

You looked at his glass.

Not a fucking chance.

You’d done it all correctly!

You’d measured everything just fine, knew the steps, did them all in the right order... mixing a dirty martini wasn’t hard.

You’d mixed that drink to fucking perfection and you fucking knew it.

And then, in an insane turn of events and choices, instead of going for your own drink that you were holding just a mere little tiny inch from your face, like, babe it was literally right there... instead of just going for that. The drink you made for yourself. The one you had right there. Instead of doing that, you reached for the glass that Joe’s mouth contents had just leaked into and took a sip right from the wet mess Joe’d created.

It went so fast, Joe didn’t even really have time to process what the fuck you were doing and what the fuck he was doing.

Before any of it registered, you gasped at the cold splash of drink that hit you in the chest.

You had reached for Joe’s glass, brought that to your face to have a taste because obviously Joe was wrong and being a little shit and you had to know. Had to verify.

You’d taken a sip.

But Joe’s hand had chased his glass.

Had taken hold of the foot of it right as you were pouring some of it into your mouth, and he’d pulled it.

That had been in his mouth.

You couldn’t possibly be fucking serious right now.

Joe felt himself twitch in his jeans at the sight. You shouldn’t be doing this right now, what the fuck was wrong with you?

But your grip on the glass was too strong as you tried to hold it in place, pulled on it as Joe did too, and then, Joe let go.

Made you splash the full thing against your whole person.

Joe was already up on his feet when a shrill gasp escaped you. Fuck, that was cold. Made whatever of the drink that had made it into your mouth escape it immediately, too.

“Shut... the fuck, up.”

No one was talking. Why did you tell the whole room to shut up?  

It had all gone so fast.

“Are you joking?”

Joe rushed his way around the bar, hands finding a tea towel on the side and he was laughing.

“This is your–”

Fault.  

You were about to tell Joe the reason why your whole front was wet was his fault. You couldn’t finish the sentence however, because Joe pressed the tea towel right against your mouth. Got a hand around the back of your neck to really press the fabric into your face, your neck, your chest.

If you wanted to push him away, which, coincidentally you didn’t, but you wouldn’t have been able to. He didn’t give you the chance to.

Joe repeated sorry over and over as he tried to swallow his giggles, trying but absolutely failing at trying to remove the evidence of what he’d just done.

“You did this, why would you– you pulled whilst I was literally drinking from it– this is your fault,” you tried to get in his face, tried to force eye-contact, but Joe kept eyes on what he was dabbing. On the wet skin that was now tacky and sticky and the drink had been so cold but you were burning now, hot to the touch.  

You drank the martini that had been inside Joe’s mouth and then got it thrown into your face, sort of. And whatever you got to taste of it was actually fine. You hadn’t gotten measurements wrong at all.

“That martini was fucking perfect, I didn’t mix it wrong at all, why did you spit it out?”  

Joe kept dabbing. You kept accusing.

And, God, you just kept going.

Joe was still repeating sorry, louder and louder in a bid to overpower you eventually, make you shut up because this had just been a joke. He hadn’t meant to splash you with a perfectly fine dirty martini that he was just pretending wasn’t any good.

He was meant to help you close the bar, that’s what he told James and Chloé. Was meant to wipe the bar down after he humorously hadn’t swallowed the sip. Was meant to clean his own mess and remind you to empty the bins, remind you to check if everything was stocked correctly.

“You’re cleaning the bar, I’m not touching that. Why didn’t you just drink that– swallow that, like a normal person? Why did you–”

It was just a joke. 

“I know how to make a dirty martini, that first time I gave you one– this one is good, it’s more than good, this one is perfhm–”

Joe kissed you. 

Got you square on the mouth.  

Shocked you right into silence.  

It only lasted maybe two seconds before Joe pulled back and gave you a sort of wild look. Breathed all heavily. Still had a tea towel pressed to your collarbone. To your cleavage.

“I said... I’m sorry, all right?”  

You didn’t even hear him say it. Just looked at his mouth and felt his hand still on the back of your neck where it held onto you firmly. Squeezed you there with his fingers.  

“The drink was good,” Joe confirmed somewhat sternly, like he’d told you before already and you hadn’t been able to accept the compliment.

Silly. 

As if it mattered at all that the drink you’d mixed him was any good.

You’d moved onto different things now, and couldn’t take your eyes of Joe’s lips. You felt heat rise up from the tips of your toes right into your face. Joe shouldn’t have done that. He tasted of martini. The drink you’d mixed for him. Had his sleeves wet with. Had his chin still damp with. 

You were meant to close the bar. 

To tidy and clean and get everything ready for the next day. 

You were meant to turn off all the equipment, were meant to get the key from the register and lock up properly and leave it in the postbox.

Were meant to tell Martin the next day that James and Chloé had let you close by yourself and, you know our regular, Joe? He helped you a little and it was all fine, see, because you’d done a good job.

You were meant to just do your job. 

Were meant to just do the things you knew Martin would make you do them had he been in.

But... you did none of those things, did you?  

You didn’t even listen to Joe who was about to tell you he would clean up his own mess, and he was sorry about kissing you, but you couldn’t stop talking and his hands were occupied, how else was he supposed to silence you, you know? His mistake, he said. That was his mistake. 

Joe said he was sorry, but smiled and remained close, and so how were you to blame for leaning close to kiss him again? 

You weren’t meant to be kissing Joe, the regular, behind the bar after hours. 

You weren’t meant to get your hands around him and push him right into you while you accepted that his grip on you grew stronger as he deepened the kiss, got his tongue involved.  

You weren’t meant to push Joe backwards and have him bump into the side where his elbow caught a bottle and smashed on the floor. You also weren’t meant to ignore that. Weren’t meant to step into the glass and spread whatever drink that was across the floor in wet footprints.

You weren’t meant to do any of what happened after either.

But they happened regardless of if they were meant to happen or not and you let yourself get swept up and away. That was your mistake.

You fished the key from the register without having another look at the state of the place. Left the music playing and rushed up the stairs together, arms climbing into coats, grabby hands reaching for waists to make hips clash together.

Joe knocked one of Frank’s stools over, nearly let it clatter down the stairs. His mistake.

You let Joe feel you up, hands slipping into your coat and under your shirt as you tried to lock up. You let yourself be pushed up against the door when you fumbled too long with the key. Managed to eventually lock it and then let it slip into your pocket, force of habit. Your mistake.

Found your way to your flat which, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on from which angle you approached the current situation, was close enough to not let the realization of what you were actually doing sink in too much. 

You remained full of giggles, full of pushes and pulls and you wanted to bite him because who the fuck did Joe think he was?

You’d tried your hardest, for literal weeks, to keep your job. To make it past the trial period. To impress Martin. To not step on anyone’s toes. 

You were meant to mix the perfect dirty martini and impress Joe and thus impress Martin.

Do your job is essentially what it came down to. You were meant to do your job.

What you were not meant to do, was wake up to the ringing of your phone with another person occupying more than half the bed.

You were not meant to answer in the groggiest of voices and be asked by an incredibly monotone voice if you’d had fun the night before.

It took you a second to wake up.

To understand what Martin was asking.

To recognize that the heavy naked limbs of the person in your space was Joe.

The regular with the snarky comments and the cocky smirks. Martin’s friend from the bar who never fucking paid for anything because apparently, he was above that, gross, you wanted to retch.

“Oh fuck…” you groaned when the penny dropped.

“I expect you here to fix this mess yourself.”

“Yes,” you slung back the covers, revealed your naked body to the room and immediately pulled your duvet back over you again. “Yes, of course.”

“In 10 minutes.”

Fuck.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[kkuzushi]

" 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 "

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!heizou x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: (slight?) himbofication, nipple play, overstimulation, praise, degradation, cock can be interpreted as strap

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.05k

✦ 𝗻otes: I do apologize for my inexperience in writing smut, please enjoy nonetheless. <3

Taking part in the Tenryou Commission, the job has its own set of pros and cons. Although you didn’t expect that a certain mischievous individual would get attached to you just after a month of settling into your position.

Is this one of the pros or cons? Or maybe something in between that? You weren’t sure, all that filled your mind right now is how a red haired detective is pushed right against a wooden table by you, his own hands clutching onto your shoulders.

Lower garments hanging on the chair behind you, covert areas being exposed to the lustful eyes of the detective. What was supposed to be a teasing peck turned into a whole make out session.

As your tongue mingle with his, your hands goes up from the edge of the table to his shirt. Is it even a shirt? The lateral parts of his torso are easily exposed, just a single side glance could reveal those cute nipples of his.

Speaking of nipples, your fingers easily swayed those buds, returning a squeal from the male.

“Mphff~ s-shenstive ffthere..~ ♡♡” his mewls vibrated right into your mouth, a slight shiver being sent down your spine. The sounds he let out only motivated you to pinch his nipples, a loud “a-hAH~!” emerging out of him right after.

The simple stimulation of fingers circling around made his nipples hard, even earning you soft moans.

As you pulled away, he immediately whined, “noOoo.. I want more!~”, only for you to reply with, “Patience, Heizou.” The man continued to whine either way but now it's much softer after hearing your tone.

You grab his thighs and lift him up on the table. As if to take a hint, Heizou spread his legs open for you, revealing his hard cock that's already leaking with precum.

"Already?" A mocking smirk formed in your lips as you looked again at Heizou, "Don't you have any manners, you slut?"

It was an insult yet it made the man's excitement grew more, the way his cock twitched right after the word 'slut' left your mouth served more than just a small evidence.

Not wasting enough time, your hand quickly came in contact with his length, stroking him quick enough to surprise him.

"uMNGFF- ahnn~! ♡" Heizou moaned, his hands grabbing the edge of the table as his legs rubbed together, squirming right under your touch.

Few more strokes of your palm was enough to send the detective reeling with uncontrollable moans.

The high pitched notes he let out were perfect, angelic even; unfortunately for him—it's over. His eyes opened wide, a confused yet dazed expression left his face once he felt your hand end the pleasure he so enjoyed.

Your palm was full of sticky, white fluid. Using it as lubricant, you spread it on your own strap, prepping it just for your detective.

"Ready?" You hummed, leaning your hips forward as your tip hit right in his entrance. Heizou nodded frantically before you finally pushed yourself right in.

"aaHHN~!! ♡" A loud moan that could be mistaken as a scream left his throat, his arms now wrapping around your neck, his nails digging right into your skin.

"Fuck, so warm.." You grunted. No matter how many times you both have done this secretly, he's still tight as ever.

You loved him this way.

As you fully bottomed out, it took a few seconds before Heizou was already begging you, "Fuck me. Fuck me! Turn me into your toy!"

At least he was ready now, your hips starting to thrust back and forth, your hands placed on his hips. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the room, your pace speeding as Heizou's volume increased at the same time.

"You like this? Turning into my toy?" You chuckled, grunting with every thrust you give him. "Y-Yeshh~ love iiT-AH?!" his sentence was interrupted with a loud moan. It seems like you've hit his prostate.

You smirked once you felt that soft area, now you can abuse it to your heart's content. Hips moving to and fro, nails digging to your back, you could just cum on the spot.

His eyes rolled back, "h-hah- feelsh shoo goodffh~! ♡♡", moans streaming out of his throat with his tongue lolling out.

"hngh! gonna cum~ aahh~!!" Heizou screamed, his trembling legs wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. The more you thrust, the more he could feel that tightening knot grow in his stomach.

"Go on then, cum for me like the whore you are," permission granted by you. Soon enough, strings of cum shot out to his stomach and yours.

Of course, this isn't the end. He's not the only one who can have fun with this. "Good boy," you coo directly to his ear, gentler thrusts from you helped him ride out his high.

"But it's not over yet," you whispered, eyes widening once he feels your hands manhandle him—turning him to his back. Now you can get a better look of his ass.

One sharp thrust, he's reeling with moans, "nnGHAA~ shenshitiveee!~ ♡" which earned a smirk from you. This was your favorite thing to do, overstimulate your little detective.

A few more thrusts made his legs give out, back arching as he could only rely on the support of your hands, and your tip hitting right into his already abused prostate.

"sho full~ your whore is sho fullll!" he mewled against the table, his cheeks nuzzling right on the edge as he tries to look at your ecstatic expression.

"My whore?"

"Your whore!"

Heizou was so fucked dumb, he thinks of himself as your whore already! To reward him, your thrust turned rough and fast, gripping into his ass.

You didn't even need to fuck him that long as you were already feeling his hole tightening around your heat, causing a moan out of you.

It was getting hard to thrust, his walls suffocating you. "I'm gonna cum," you warned, to which he replied with, "i-inside! cum inside..!"

As he tells you his last wish, you came right inside. Warm liquid filling him to the brim, making him cum as well.

Your thrusts get slower, just enough to ride out both highs. "That's a good whore, you took me so well," you praised one last time before kissing his cheek.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Midnight Munchies

Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader x Will Graham

Hannibal is slightly fed up with his loves, even if they are utterly adorable

Warnings: drug use (weed), implied dub-con (only because both parties were high and thus unable to properly consent), food mentions, Hannibal having to be a dad to his partners, insults against chicken nuggets, overall fluff

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Something was wrong. Hannibal shot up in bed, looking around the dark room in a panic. His amber eyes scanned the bedroom as his gut curled with anxiety. The bed was cold, much colder than it should have been considering that his two partners, both of whom ran extremely hot, should have been sleeping beside him.

Sighing, he glanced at the small clock on the bedside table, noting it was a bit past three in the morning. He gracefully slid out from between the silk sheets and grabbed his robe on the way out into the hall. He had a sneaking suspicion as to where the other two members of the large house were.

And, as always, he was right.

The lights in the kitchen were on, giggles carrying through the halls that simultaneously warmed his heart and annoyed him. They knew better than to be in the kitchen without him this late at night. He dreaded to think what they had gotten up to without his supervision. 

He creeped silently around the corner and smiled at the sight before him. Y/N was sitting on one of the ornate counters, dressed only in Will’s t-shirt as said man stood between her thick thighs, conveniently shirtless, face buried in her heavy chest as his body shook with laughter. 

A spilled bag of fries was beside them, along with what must have been a mountain of chicken nuggets and two large shakes. “Ok ok try again.” Will gasped between rounds of giggles, prompting Y/N to pick up a handful of fries and signal for the man to back up.

His back hit the counter opposite her and he unconsciously released a throaty grunt at the contact. There was a moment's pause before they were laughing hysterically. Will’s face was quickly going red with the lack of oxygen which Y/N found hilarious, making her snort and causing Will to laugh even harder. A truly vicious cycle.

Y/N was able to catch her breath first, tears still rolling down her full cheeks as she cocked back her shoulder and raised her fist while tightly clutching a handful of fries. Hannibal knew what was coming next and was already mentally preparing himself to do a full sanitisation of the kitchen in the morning. 

Will’s mouth opened as large as it could go without dislocating his jaw and readied himself.

“What do you think you’re doing, beloved?” Her entire body seized in surprise, her e/c eyes widening, exposing how bloodshot they were. 

“Nothing.” She squeaked out, shoving the hand that was full of fries behind her back, a truly noble attempt at hiding the evidence. Hannibal’s face remained stern, raising a gray eyebrow at her as if to say ‘really?’. Will slowly turned on the balls of his heels, somehow, his eyes were even more red than hers, and as Hannibal was getting a good look at the pair, both of them stank of weed and, if he wasn’t mistaken, McDonald’s.

Y/N was the one that introduced the troubled man to the effects of cannabis after a particularly rough night. Under Hannibal’s watchful eyes, they indulged and Will discovered an easy way to relax and dissociate for a while. So, it became a tradition that whenever he had nightmares or she had an awful day at her own job, they would light up and snuggle for a few hours. Evidently, they did not think to wake their third for this precise excursion.

Now that he could see Will’s bare chest, he realised how long they had been alone and high together. Huge bruises discoloured his naturally pale skin, creating a path of purple and blue all the way down to the slight pudge of his belly and going below his pajama pants. Hannibal knew from experience how frisky Y/N got when under the influence and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Did you two have sex?” Being as blunt as possible in this situation was the best way to go considering the two of them could weasel their way out of any confrontation, even if they were high out of their minds. Will’s face flushed a dark pink and Y/N glanced away, embarrassed. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“Noooo, we just made out a bit.” She squirmed on the counter.

“Somehow I do not believe you, my precious.” Hannibal strode into the kitchen with all the confidence in the world, his maroon robe billowing behind him like a cape. He easily took the slightly shorter man into his arms, tangling his long fingers in his curls as Will nuzzled into his neck, sighing happily. 

“It’s true!” She protested and jumped from her perch, landing quite gracefully considering her state, and launched herself at the doctor, apparently also needing to be held. Will was easily moved to his left side as he extended his right arm to accommodate her. Will nodded against Hannibal’s shoulder, trying to back up her statement.

“Even if it is true, you two know better than to smoke without my supervision, you could’ve gotten hurt.” He felt their simultaneous frowns against his skin. “And I could have cooked for you so you didn’t have to eat such horrific food.”

“Hey!” “Don’t insult chicken nuggets like that!” They shouted at the same time, making Hannibal wince at their volume. The pair attempted to pull away, greatly outraged by a slight against their beloved food. But the older man held firm, squeezing them closer to his lean body.

Y/N gave up her struggle first, her soft arms winding around his thin waist, relenting to his affection. Will, however, was far more angry and managed to wiggle away. “Chicken nuggets are the foundation of this country. Every restaurant you go to has them!”

“Yes, I know dear. You order them every time we go out together.” Hannibal conceded, earning him an approving nod from the profiler and a kiss against the juncture of his neck and shoulder from the younger woman. “Now come along, you can tell me more about how great they are in bed.”

Holding out his hand, Will took it without a fight, and dutifully followed his partner like the little duckling he was. 

It was easy enough to get the inebriated pair into bed given the promise of Hannibal ‘taking care of them’. But keeping them there was another story. He left briefly to the en suite bathroom to fetch them each a glass of water and when he came back, both were gone, having wandered off into the large walk-in closet to critique his choice of wardrobe.

By the time he got them back into bed, tucked under the thin covers this time, their shared alarm was only about 3 minutes away from turning on and forcing them to get up. Slightly exasperated, the good doctor switched off the damn thing, knowing that his troublesome partners would not function properly today, he decided that taking one day of sick leave would be appropriate.

Will and Y/N tangled together in the center of the mattress, gripping each other tightly as their eyes grew heavy with sleep. Their foreheads were connected, keeping their faces close enough together that their lips brushed. “Is there room in there for me?” Hannibal teased, sliding into bed behind Will.

“No.” Came the muffled reply from Y/N.

“And why not?” 

“Cause you were mean to the chicken nuggets.” Will continued, shuffling closer to Y/N.

“I am truly sorry for that.” He said almost sarcastically, expecting Will to retort but was met with silence. Looking over his broad shoulder, Hannibal smiled. They were fast asleep.

Wrapping a long arm around both of them, he himself settled back into the soft pillows and joined them.

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[mariondeux]

Hey hey im glad you're back!! Really i missed you so much, also pretty nazu theme! Can i request mReader with rinne where the reader is actually a spirit to pleasure someone, usually they pleasure a woman but when Rinne summoned him, he's confused what to do since he never do it with a man, so he gets a litte aggressive to Rinne and try to ran away

But eventually Rinne wrecked the Reader ass into oblivion that reader become cockdrunk and Rinne obviously made Reader into personal cock sleeve spirit for himself www

Ignore this request if it's against the rules or makes you uncomfortable! Thank you have a nice day!

- く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

— SYNOPSIS ; When you were summoned you were expecting the summoner to be a woman, but instead, you’re met with a man. Rinne is persistent, and when you try to run away he pins you down and shows you another side of pleasure.

CW ; NSFW, Non-con(???), mindbreak, cockdrunk, reader is bisexual?? Manhandling, no foreplay, rough sex, assault

WORD COUNT ; 1166

PAIRING ; Rinne Amagi x Male!Pleasure Spirit!Reader

A/N ; I think I might’ve left things out for the CW’s?? I wasn’t sure how to tag this. But, thank you, squid anon!! I’m happy you like the new Nazu theme :D

FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.

“You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

There you stood, wearing a primarily black latex outfit that hardly covered your body. If anything, you could’ve been mistaken for an incubus. However, you weren’t. You were a spirit whose purpose served to pleasure people. Your jaw went slack at the sight of a man in front of you. You were expecting a lady to be summoning you, not a man.

“Um, are you the one that summoned me? Or is the lady that summoned me in another room?” You placed both hands on your hips, walking around the room to hopefully look for said woman.

You let out a yelp as Rinne suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing his head on top of your shoulder. “Nah, it was me that summoned ya… Now, why don’t ya do your job and show me a good time, yeah?”

You froze in your spot, nerves crawling up your body as Rinne’s calloused hands trailed across your exposed skin. You’ve never done this with a man before. You were so much more experienced with knowing how to please a woman. You’d never thought that a man would summon you. What do you do? How are you supposed to go about pleasing another man? 

“Hey, look man, I’m only good with women.” You pried his hands off of your body, backing away from him cautiously. “I don't think you’d want me to be the one to relieve you. Just summon another spirit and-“

“Why would I bother summoning another spirit when you’re right here?” Rinne persisted as he moved back towards you, pushing his fingers underneath the hem of your latex shorts.

Alarms blared in your ears as panic ran through you, pulling Rinne’s wrists away with a sudden aggressiveness as you shoved him back. “Look, I don’t wanna do this!” You yelled out, trying to pull out a device to help you back to your original world. 

Rinne stopped you before you could, grabbing your arms and placing them behind your back with more strength than you could ever muster. You let out a groan of pain, hardly having the time to register Rinne pushing your body down onto the bed. Your face was smashed into the sheets, struggling to move your head to the side to breathe in.

“Just shut up and be a good boy, yeah? I’ll fuck ya so good ya won’t ever wanna go back.” His voice lowered to a greedy, husky tone, keeping your wrists in his left hand as he tried to pry your clothes off of you. Latex wasn’t an easy material to slide off of skin. You cried out as Rinne roughly pulled your latex shorts down to your calves, leaving a red mark behind as a sign of how much he struggled to get it off of you in one swipe.

His hand engulfed one of your ass cheeks in his hand, squeezing it. He let out a low, satisfied groan as he continued squeezing your rear. His hand moved closer to your hole, his thumb circling around the rim of your asshole. “Ya sure ya never did it with a man before? Your body is so fuckin’ hot… I’m surprised another guy hasn’t jumped at the opportunity to fuck your slutty ass.”

Your face quickly warmed up at his words. You weren’t sure if you should be ashamed or if you should take his words as a compliment. You struggled underneath him, trying to pull your hips away from his hands. “S-Stop…”

Rinne shoved his thumb past the rim and inside your hole. His brows rose as he slid his thumb in and out of you. “Ya been pegged before? Or maybe you’re just lying to me and ya have been fucked in the ass by another guy before.”

Either way, this worked out for him. Your struggling in the beginning made him much more impatient, wanting to fuck you as soon as possible. You shook your head from side to side violently, determined to shoot down his statement as he pulled his thumb out of your ass. Your eyes widened as you felt something stiff prod at you from behind. You moved your head, trying your best to look over your shoulder to get a good look at what he was trying to push inside of you.

“Wait! Stop- It’s not gonna fit in!” You yelled out, trying to crawl away from Rinne, but his grip on your wrists kept you in place. Your breathing sped up as you felt nothing but dread. Rinne brushed off your pleas, letting out a drawled out groan as he pushed the tip of his cock past your rim, slowly sliding inside of you. You let out a pained cry in response, your hands balling into tight fists as you tried to bear through the terrible feeling.

“Ugh, fuck… Ya feel way better than I expected, hah… That’s a pleasure spirit for ya, huh?” He pulled his hips back, leaving only the tip inside before slapping his hips back against yours, tearing another cry out of you. He continued this slow rhythm, letting you slowly adjust around him so you could properly take him.

And before you knew it, he started fucking himself into you as his rocking increased with each thrust and his patience wore thin. His hips grinding against yours, body moving rhythmically against yours. The sight of your arms behind your back, face smashed into the bed as your sounds of agony slowly turned into moans of pleasure made his cock throb inside of you. He leaned back and grasped both of your wrists with both hands, using your arms to bounce your body against his.

“Ya feel so fucking good. Do ya regret getting fucked by me now, huh? Huh?”

“Fuck! Rinne!” Every time his hips struck yours, you panted and made choking noises. Rinne grunted, quickening and driving his cock more into your rear end each time. As the speed picked up, you arched your back. You've already lost all control of your body while in ecstasy. Your body felt warm all over, slick building up in your ass to help Rinne slide in and out of you easier. You never even realized your body could do that. Oh, but what the heck, you were a spirit made for pleasure, so of course you could lubricate yourself.. Your hair was messy and your body drenched in sweat. It was undoubtedly amazing to see. Your mouth was hanging open, wanton moans spilling out.

“Fuck- I should just keep ya for myself. Keep ya nice and full of my cum, keep ya real satisfied every day…” Rinne breathed, pounding his cock into you. You were panting like a dog by this point, letting out constant ‘Ah! Ah! Ah’s spurring Rinne, causing his pace to increase drastically.

“Yes! Yes! More, more!” You begged mindlessly, not in your right mind, to realize what you signed up for.

TAGLIST ; @exhokai @shuvies @venniin @4kumaa @ambassadoro @noahrandom @1694 @ajaints @berrycolaa @twst-rui @kytesakuma @secretivemessenger @yumixxn @maxx0inwonderland @resluv @kangdae

[momojedi]

— HEMLOCK topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

**

type. loss, pt 3 note. uh oh, its a series now. warnings. imprisonment, creepy hemlock, non-con touch (non-sexual), just hemlock being the creep i perceive him as word count. 737 tag list: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @shadow-rebel-223

star wars masterlist || pinned post

I stare at the straw doll.

"Tha-," I gulp, running my tongue over cracked lips, "Thanks." The girl smiles at me, a genuine and kindhearted quirk in the corner of her mouth. "You're welcome." Her words are heavily accented and laced with so much authenticity, I can't help but flash her a tiny grin. "What's your name?" "O-"

"Ah, I see you two are bonding already." Before she can finish her answer, a cool voice interrupts her. We simultaneously turn our heads to the cell door. In it stands a man with dark hair and piercingly blue eyes. He's calm, perceiving us in a creepy manner as he scans her, the doll in my hands before then moving on to me. His gaze lingers on me for a second and the urge to shrink and disappear suddenly becomes very prominent. He turns to the girl.

"Dr Karr must be waiting on you," he speaks in a soft manner that yet radiates more cold than warmth, "move along." Hesitantly, as if refusing to leave me behind, she sends a swift glance my way. I nod. She wouldn't be able to do much for me, either way, especially not in my current state. Then, she slowly makes her way over to the man and slips out of the cell, though not before giving me on last wave. The man watches her disappear down the hallway, hands clasped behind his back. "She seems to have taken a liking to you," he hums, not looking at me.

I don't respond, no, instead I observe him until my thoughts drift over to what Dr Karr had said earlier. My brows furrow. "You're Hemlock," I realise, eyes widening. Was this the man responsible for my capture? Responsible for the weeks upon weeks of mental as well as physical torture? His low chuckle interrupts my thoughts.

"Well observed." Hemlock approaches me, taking confident strides over to me until he stands in front of me, right where I'm leaning against the wall. He's close, too close than I'd consider comfortable, caging me in to the point I can practically smell his breath. Minty. "You're [name], " He states, offering me a smile though nothing about it is kind, "You were a Jedi during the war. Commander, if I'm not mistaken?"

I bite my lip and glue my eyes to the polished floor. It's still sparkling from when the last maintenance crew cleaned up. Out of the corner of my sight, I notice a quirk in his lips. Hemlock has clearly taken notice of my reaction. My fingers twitch and I try my best to suppress the sudden itch I feel to knock him to the ground.

"Oh, the Jedi," he purrs, a hint of mock lacing his tone, "truly a bummer what happened to them." Hemlock sighs. "If only they hadn't betrayed the-" "They didn't betray shit," I bark, snapping out of my distant state. Hemlock looks taken aback for a second, a surprised glint flickering in his eyes, but he quickly gathers himself.

"Oh? That's not what official reports said." "That's because your official reports are nothing but a load of bantha fodder." I growl. He stares at me, his ice cold eyes meeting mine and a shiver runs down my spine. The sudden urge to tear my eyes away from him overtakes me and despite my defiance, I scowl yet lower my gaze. Hemlock doesn't like it.

"Look at me." I ignore him, shutting my eyes and shutting him out in the process. "I said," he breathes steadily, hot air hitting my face, "look at me."

The hand that finds itself at my neck knocks the air out of me when he grips my chin and forces me to look at him.

"You are alone. None of your Jedi friends will save you; not here, nor anywhere else in the galaxy. And you know why? Because they're all dead," he closes his eyes and sighs silently, his tone growing soft again, almost loving, when he rises again, readjusting the glove on his hand, "I'm giving you a chance here. A chance to survive, to be part of a greater purpose. It's up to you to take it."

Fixing him with a glare, I lean my head back to gather as much saliva as I can before spitting at his feet.

"My family will come for me. They'll save me."

At least I hope so.

[cherryxsang]

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐖

Outlaw!San x Bountyhunter!Reader (afab) Genre: smut Word count: 3.7k Warnings: POSSIBLY TRIGGERING BRIEF SEXUAL VIOLENCE (San tries to attack the reader for sexual reasons but doesn't actually do anything), dub con (San is drunk), physical fighting, handcuffs, penetrative sex, handjob, oral sex (m and f), spit kink, hate sex?, filthy dialogue

»»————————————►

You tried to keep your nerves at bay as you reached for the door of the bar on a night you’d been searching for for weeks. It wasn’t the building you were searching for, but a certain person you were hunting. One of your sources had tipped you off that he would be in that very building on that very night.

You stepped inside and quickly scanned everything around you. Although the bar was brightly lit, it was also quite busy, and you didn’t see him just yet. You tugged at the itchy frills of your dress and followed your senses. If I were an outlaw, where would I be, you asked yourself. That question lead you to a counter located near the back of the building. It was slightly less illuminated and not as packed with people.

You stepped inside and quickly scanned everything around you. Although the bar was brightly lit, it was also quite busy, and you didn’t see him just yet. You tugged at the itchy frills of your dress and followed your senses. If I were an outlaw, where would I be, you asked yourself. That question lead you to a counter located near the back of the building. It was slightly less illuminated and not as packed with people.

Your heart pounded with excitement when your eyes focused in on the silhouette of one man. Your gut told you that you’d found him. As you carefully approached, you caught a glimpse of his profile and knew immediately from his wanted pictures that he was your man. Here we go, you thought.

Unlike most women who walk into a saloon after sunset, you weren’t there looking to wow him, at least not as your final goal. You were there to trap him. He had a hefty bounty on his head, and you had found that you were a natural at this kind of thing.

You scooted yourself onto a stool near the outlaw, keeping a close eye in your peripheral while also appearing cool. As you leaned your elbows on the bar counter you felt his heavy gaze take its post on you. “A bourbon, please,” you smiled at the bartender.

A chuckle to your right. You looked over as an unknowing stranger, your eyes wide with feigned innocence. That was the first time you gazed into the cat-shaped eyes of Choi San. The same dark and weathered, yet still young and curious eyes that had seen every one of his crimes. Ten known murders and an estimated thousands worth of stolen goods, among other things. You hated yourself for noticing how attractive those eyes were.

Through dark and droopy—probably drunk—eyelashes, he looked your feminine form up and down. “Sorry, miss,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, “I just wouldn’t have expected a pretty little thing like you to walk into a place like this.”

You smiled at him—a fake one, you were sure—and responded in your nicest voice, “Well, sir, I did expect to see a handsome man like yourself, see.”

He flashed a cocky smile as his gaze dropped down to his drink. “You city women are a peculiar treat,” he said in a low voice. It made your confidence waver just a bit. Had he already become suspicious of your character? Should you have put on a smooth, slow drawl to match his? You cleared your throat and shooed the thoughts away.

Ignoring what he had said, you spoke again, remaining composed. “If I’m not mistaken- Did I notice that you’re alone tonight? Would be a shame.” You fingered the condensation on your drink glass, anxious for his response.

“I’m always alone, miss.” You rolled your eyes at his vague and, you judged, pompous answer, but nonetheless began to plan your next move. That is, until you felt the vibration of the stool next to yours moving. You inhaled deeply, instinctively ghosting your hand over the pocket-sized pistol that was strapped to your thigh under your dress, but allowing San to take the seat beside you. “That don’t have to mean physically, though,” he added.

You giggled through your teeth, watching a warm smile grace his soft but masculine features. Now that he was close, you noticed how large he was—not especially tall, but muscular. A true farmhand’s build. How charming. That was also when you realized that you had placed your hand on his arm to flirt with him. It wasn’t a conscious choice, just a reflex. Still, all part of the job.

“Can I buy that for you?” he motioned to your drink. Sensing an opportunity arising, you answered with a cunning “sure.”

“Perhaps I could repay you in some way,” you said softly and avoiding eye contact, acting shy. The look San gave you sent a chill down your spine. It was as if you could see his mind switch gears, see the tunnel vision activate. His face darkened, his eyebrows resting shiftily above his eyes and his polite smile fading with seriousness. But it only lasted a second, and then dimples melted back into his tan skin.

“It would be much obliged,” he almost whispered, his voice sweet like molasses. It made you weirdly nervous. You were silently puzzled by the fact that you felt your trust in yourself dwindling. You can do this, you reminded yourself. Your internal quarrel was interrupted by San reaching very suddenly for your hand. “You know,” he started mindlessly, toying with your fingers. You kept stern eye contact, reminding yourself not to be fooled by his prowess and to keep your guard up. “Despite your cold reputation, you city ladies are really quite friendly.”

He looked at you and you smiled politely, telling him, “I’m full of surprises, sir.” Never breaking eye contact, you added, “And can I have my ring back?” You probably shouldn’t have said it, as it could set him off and ruin your chances of getting the bastard caught. You didn’t care about the ring anyhow, it was a simple prop. But he was cocky, attempting to steal your ring right in front of you. And you were annoyed.

San gave you wide eyes of surprise but quickly covered himself with a laugh. Holding your ring on the tip of his pointer and examining it, “Let me pay you for it with another drink,” he said smugly, dropping the ring in his pocket plainly. “It’s not worth much anyways.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Or…” You raked your fingers up and down the cowboy’s denim-clad thigh. “Spend the night with me and we’ll call us even.”

San dipped his head in feigned shyness. He kept his head down for a second too long and it made you uneasy. You knew he was imagining all the things he might be able to get away with doing to you. “You are something, city miss. You don’t even know my name.” He maintained a teasing smile.

“Mine is Y/N,” you offered.

“San,” he returned, pulling your hand to his mouth for a kiss. All calculated, you reminded yourself. “There’s an inn next door,” he suggested.

“Let’s go.” The two of you stood up, abandoning your own drink while San quickly finished his off. He replaced his hat and led you out of the saloon. The walk to the bedroom you would be occupying was clouded by a war within your head. You didn’t know what it was exactly. You knew your plan was to get him alone, handcuff him and bring him straight to the police’s attention. But there was a nerve-wracking feeling deep down that you didn’t trust yourself this time. You didn’t know what exactly you were worried about, you’d done this all before after all, but nonetheless something felt strange. There was some part of yourself that you felt you weren’t in control of.

Those thoughts were interrupted when you arrived at your rented room which San had ever-so-kindly paid for. He let you in first then closed the door. “Finally,” he sighed darkly. The next thing you knew, you were off your feet, caught completely off guard. San had picked you up by your waist and thrown you roughly onto the mattress. He was quick to climb on top of you, thighs around your waist and with a tight grip on either wrist. Even drunk, the bastard was damn strong.

“Get off me, you fucker!” you shouted, blindsided by the sudden danger. You were painfully aware of the cold metal of your pistol on your thigh, so close but entirely out of reach.

“I’ve been waiting too fucking long for this.” The two of you struggled, meanwhile San had let one of your hands go to allow himself to fumble his belt undone. You began to desperately punch him as hard as you could. All the while he was staring you in the eye expressionless. “You’ll lay still and take me, stupid whore.”

Once he had unzipped his jeans, he began pulling at your dress. As he worked the mess of fabric up your thighs, he unintentionally revealed your weapon. He shot you a look like he was scared, his brows furrowed and eyes wide. “What are you?” he asked frantically.

He was weakened by his confusion and you were able to twist away from him, your feet hitting the floor. He quickly grabbed you again, but now you were able to kick him back by his stomach. You tried to calm your nerves while he was down and reached for your gun. This has gotten out of hand, you told yourself. I have to end it.

Before you could cock the pistol, San grabbed it by its barrel. He pushed you backwards until you hit a wall. You shouted as your head hit the hard wooden door frame and continued to wrestle for your gun. Again, San just stared expressionless. He was probably petrified. He was fighting for his life, but so were you. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me,” he whispered. “But I hope you’re having as much fun as I am,” he smirked. With his body pressed against yours, you happened to notice that he was rock hard. You didn’t do anything with that information except get the idea to knee him hard in his groin.

When he fell to the ground you quickly spun around to his back side and pointed your ready gun at him. You still had another tool on your body: a set of handcuffs in an inside pocket of your dress. The realization gave you an idea: Stick to the original plan. But you needed to get him near the bed first. So you climbed onto the mattress, your pistol still locked on San. Sure enough, as soon as he got to his feet, he jumped on the mattress with you, reaching for your gun again. But you were ready for him, grabbing him by his neck and throwing him down with all your adrenaline-fueled strength. His skull hit the headboard in a thud and you sat on his chest, the handcuffs already in your hand. You dropped your pistol and through a struggle managed to chain his hands together, looped around the headboard so he couldn’t move.

Stepping back, you took a few seconds to ensure he was immobilized and to catch your breath. You thought you imagined at first when San started to laugh maniacally. A drop of blood slowly rolled down his forehead, meanwhile he grinned. “What are you?” he asked again. “Bounty hunter?”

Proud of the work you accomplished tonight, you told him honestly, “Yes.”

He continued to laugh, mumbling to himself, “Fuck me. City miss. Bounty hunter. I thought you were just an odd whore.” He adjusted his legs, seemingly getting himself comfortable as he accepted his fate. He wiped his blood on his denim jacket. “You have no idea how much fun that was. Between us, I like a feisty woman.”

You took a step closer to him. “You were hard,” you said flatly.

He grunted in response, rolling his head toward you. “You’re gorgeous. And you put up a hell of a fight, Y/N.”

“You’re gorgeous, too, actually.” What’s the harm in telling a man likely soon to face death row? “When I heard your description…your crimes…I wasn’t imagining something like you.”

He listened intently. The first time that night that you felt he was really hearing what you said, it was when you were praising him. He was disgusting, and yet look at him; Chained up and submissive. At your complete disposal. You thanked the heavens for your occupation as a bounty hunter and not a member of the police force. There were no rules against what you had now accepted you wanted to do.

You simply undid your dress, allowing it to pool at your feet. San was silent, just watching for whatever you would do next. “You’re going to fuck me, cowboy. Then we’ll be even.”

He laughed harder than before, his broad chest heaving. “You really are a whore.”

You punched his mouth. That shut him up. Then your eyes trailed to the tall tent in his jeans. You finished what he had started earlier, unzipping them all the way and fishing his rock-solid dick out. It was tall and veiny, leaking and frustrated. You felt your arousal spill at the sight. You pulled his jeans down to his knees and then you straddled him, hovering above his hard-on.

You undid the buttons of his leather vest, exposing his swollen abs and pecs. You threw his hat across the room and examined the wound on the top of his scalp. You dabbed the blood with the bed sheet and then carefully combed your fingers through his bangs. You took care with him now as in a moment of weakness, you let your mind wander straight into fantasy. If only this deadly, gorgeous man had a soul, you thought. Maybe you would try to make him yours. Still, you took pride in being the only woman to ever take him down and make him feel weak.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he teased you, sensing your hatred for him slipping.

You grabbed him by the neck and pushed his stupid head against the hard wood of the head board. “Don’t you fucking dare,” you said.

“Then just fuck me already, will you?” he spat, fed up. His dick was still standing there all alone in the cold room and you guessed it was painful for him. Good.

You peeled your underwear off of your already sweaty body and slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, facing away from him as you couldn't bring yourself to look at the bastard’s face any longer. He felt even bigger inside of you and he had a beautiful curve, effortlessly brushing against your sweet spot with every movement. You and San let out a unison moan as you bottomed out and your walls fluttered around him.

He was silent now as you rode him. No snide comments as you finally gave him what he really wanted all along. But you couldn’t complain about what he wanted because you were giving yourself a little treat too. If he’s going to be arrested and likely executed, why not make him useful while he has the chance?

You rubbed your clit against San’s pubic bone, the friction causing you to tense around him with each grind of your hips, much to San’s delight. He was shameless, a moaning, whiny mess behind you. He was breathing heavily and you imagined by the way he was tugging at his restraints that if his hands were free they’d be all over you right now. A part of you longed to feel those arms. Not San’s, you reminded yourself, but maybe someone’s.

You settled to fuck yourself stupid on the outlaw’s dick. You held his thighs as you sought out the feeling of sharp, quick thrusts. You moved rhythmically, tensing and relaxing your muscles, allowing yourself to revel in the sensation of being stuffed full.

Soon enough, San started going crazy beneath you, tugging harder at his handcuffs, his thighs twitching. That was your cue to lift your hips. You weren't about to let a criminal place some kind of mark on you with his seed. Plus you weren’t done with him. San groaned deeply at the loss of sensation. You turned around and he looked like he wanted to kill you right then and there. “What the fuck, Y/N?” he hissed sharply.

“You piece of shit,” you retorted, “We just started. You need to make me cum, too.” You brushed his lips, which were slightly swollen from your earlier punch, with two fingers and without verbal direction he obeyed and opened his mouth. “Let me see that tongue,” you whispered to yourself, meaning to only say it in your head.

“I don’t-”

“Shut up,” you said before grabbing a handful of his hair and directing his mouth to your pussy as you crawled forward. Despite his apparent resistance, he obediently stuck his tongue out for you and lapped at you like a starved man. You grinded against his tongue, seeking more. “Suck me,” you said, and he did just that, wrapping his swollen lips around your clit. You didn’t need to give him any further instruction, he knew just what to do as he continued to happily drink up every last bit of your arousal and paid close attention to your clit. You came undone with a string of high-pitched moans and kept a hand in his hair so he couldn’t get away, not that you thought he’d ever try to. He continued to gently work you through your orgasm, and you laughed, “You might hate me, San. You might want me dead, but you still can’t get enough of my pussy, can you?”

He disconnected from you and looked up with puppy eyes. “Please let me cum, miss.” How sweet, you thought. Miss. You had apparently broken him when you didn't even really mean to. You tried your best not to smile at his cute, pitiful state and instead busied yourself with licking your arousal off of his chest. The mixture of cum and sweat was salty but sweet in a way. You licked up the crevice between his pecs and then swirled your tongue around one of his nipples. He hummed happily. “No one’s ever done that before,” he said.

“Which part?”

“Everything you just did.” There was a gentleness to his voice now. You knew it was just that he was more desperate than ever to cum and was trying to play his cards right to get there. But a part of you couldn’t help but enjoy it in the moment. Not that you were going soft, you told yourself. It was just sweet how a man as big and tough as San was always, at the end of the day,  a slave to his own dick.

You turned around again, sitting your wet pussy on his belly and wrapped your hand around his dick. You dropped a string of spit onto his cock head and spread it around with a couple of soft pumps. San moaned again behind you, once again chasing his long-awaited orgasm (although it hadn't been that long, he was just impatient). You continued pumping his shaft with one hand, while the other alternated between massaging his balls and teasing his tip. “It’s good, miss,” he whispered mindlessly. Sleepily. Drunkenly. Why did it make your hands move faster? “Feels so good…” When he started to stir again, you bent down, sticking your pussy in his face and sucked on his tip, tonguing the slit while your hands still worked him too.

A long and strained “Fuuuuuck,” told you he was close and you started pumping him as fast as you could, grabbing and sucking harder. Just a few pumps and you felt his warm seed spurting out into your mouth, felt his thighs quake, heard the pleasing aria of breathy and tired moans behind you. You decided you would swallow, if only to not create another mess for the innkeepers.

You looked back at the man you were sat on. He was lying still with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath after his orgasm. You took one last look at his marvelous dick before concealing it again with his jeans–you wanted to leave him some tiny bit of dignity when the police came to find him chained up.

You stood up, ready to call it a night and grab your things, but there was one more thing you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to do. “Don’t go,” San teased as you looked down at him.

You leaned down close to San’s face and stared at his lips, hoping he would catch your hint. He did, as he opened his lips just slightly, expectantly. You grabbed his jaw roughly and opened it the rest of the way, spitting on his tongue. “Enjoy the taste of yourself, you dirty fuck.”

He shot a pair of sharpened cat eyes and said, “You really are full of surprises, miss.”

As you slipped into your dress again, your head was full of thoughts. For the most part they were of your plan to get the sheriff to the inn, but there was a strange feeling you couldn’t ignore: Regret. Not of having slept with the San, but of not being able to do it again. It was quite fun. An exciting adventure and an enjoyable fuck, and now it was over. Even though he was a horrible man, you were going to miss him in a way. And though you felt no guilt over his arrest which was to come, you felt compelled to leave him with a goodbye.

“Good luck to you, San,” you said, tucking your forgotten pistol into your dress pocket. “Whatever happens to you, good luck.”

He watched you unamused. He sighed, then said, “You can fuck yourself. And I guess I’ll see you in hell.”

“I’ll see you when you’re being arrested,” you smiled, taking in the sight of the attractive outlaw handcuffed to a stranger’s bed for the last time before closing the door behind you.

From there, you went straight to the police station and informed the sheriff there of the outlaw waiting for his arrest. You led a pair of officers to the bedroom. Another gut feeling was telling you now that something was wrong, and as the officers rushed in, your fear was realized: there was no handsome criminal, just a broken headboard.