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peachesofteal · 2 months

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes (non con touching, spanking) / masterlist

The ice cream placates you... for a few minutes.

By the end of the bowl, your skin begins to crawl.

Weak.

They watch you in the lowlight of the kitchen, eyes unwavering, Simon's focused like a laser, Johnny's lazy like the sunset.

Still, each stay steady. Constant.

"The staring is getting old." You mutter in the bowl, spoon clinking against ceramic.

"Jus' making sure ye get enough to eat." Johnny's smile touches his eyes, but your stomach thrashes, unsettled, unnerved.

They kidnapped you, and now they're trying to sweeten you up with ice cream. Like you're a child with a new toy to thwart a tantrum.

There's a single bite left, half melted in the bottom.

"Feel better now?" Simon smirks, and fire sparks to life. Anger, rage boils. Feel better? Do you feel better? Do you feel better, after what they did?

They did this. They did this... to you.

"Fuck you." It's a whisper with your head down, but loud enough to trigger a chair scrape. The sound of someone standing.

"Doe, c'mon now, we only want to protect ye-"

"Johnny." Simon cuts him off, and you glance between both of them. Johnny almost looks sad, mourning in the pools of his eyes, and for a second, you feel bad.

Only for a second.

"Ye dinnae know it now, but we're helping ye. Ye'll see." It's so condescending, and you sneer, eyes narrowed to slits. He doesn't caution himself at the change in your demeanor, the rampant discomfort filling the room, and just when you think he's done talking-

he steps in it. "When ye're done bein' a brat, we'll talk about-"

The ice cream bowl is out of your hand and sailing across the room before your brain even connects what happens. It misses, but the melted strawberry and vanilla splatters across Johnny's face, bowl smashing to pieces on impact as it makes contact with the floor.

Nobody moves. Nobody breathes. Johnny' stares at you, shocked, and then-

Simon is on you. His eyes are murderous and the fear is back, your heart racing, pulse pounding under your chin. His big body corrals you before you even get a chance to get off the stool, and he yanks your wrists forward, heaving you up over his shoulder in one fell swoop.

"No! Get off me! Put me down, put me- let me go!" You scream, twisting and turning, trying to free yourself, only for him to clamp down more, Johnny on his heels.

You've broken down in tears as soon as you get to bedroom, and he throws you on the bed.

He stands at the edge, still as stone. There's no warmth in his expression, no life in his eyes, and you scramble away on your back, knees tucked to your chest.

He grabs your ankle. "Hand or belt." Johnny's lips thin. Your stomach roils.

"W-what?"

"Hand, or belt." You shake your head. "No? Alright." His smile is feral, wild and dark as his belt buckle clangs open.

"No! No, no please." You're shaking. Terrified.

"You're not gettin' out of this. One last chance to make a choice." Oh god. Oh my god.

"Hand... hand." He drags you to the edge of the bed, tugging you across his knees roughly.

"Johnny." He instructs over your head, your eyes blurry with tears, widening when you feel your pants and underwear being pulled down, your ass upturned in cool air.

"No!" you shriek. "No! No, please. I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry." You rock back and forth, desperate, trying to kick, trying to get away.

"'s too late, little doe." Johnny sounds sympathetic, but then his fingers dig into the backs of thighs so hard they hurt. You wail.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You want to be a brat so badly, you can be one. But your behavior will always come with consequences." Simon murmurs, palm rubbing over the swell of your ass. He swats at the fat of your cheeks, and you flinch.

"Please." Your final plea is meek and breathless. It falls on deaf ears.

He doesn't give you warning. The air, shifts, and his hand cuts through it, raining down onto your skin with a violent, open palm slap. You shriek.

"If you count, we'll go to ten. If I count, we'll go to twenty." Your lungs are wet with tears.

"O-one, please, I'm sorry." You try to wriggle again, but Johnny's vice grip stills you. The next spank is just as hard as the first, and you moan. It fucking hurts. "Two." He alternates until he gets to seven, and then the pain starts to turn, changing to a burn, a prickled sensation that floods your blood.

"Almost there." Simon tells you, and you sniffle miserably, tears still streaming down your face.

The eighth is the hardest one yet, and it drags a scream from your throat. Your skin is raw. "Eight."

Nine is even harder. Your muscles hurt from holding yourself so tense, and you hiccup. "Nine."

"Last one. Take a deep breath." You can't. You're frozen, and Simon's fingers stroke the back of your neck. "Take a deep breath, doe." You make an effort, and as soon as your chest expands, the final spank rains down on you, harder than them all, harder enough it steals your breath. "Good job, you're done. No more." He soothes, stroking down your back before squeezing one of your cheeks, the bloom of bruised agony jolting you to your side. Johnny whistles.

"Ye made a mess, little doe. Pain make ye wet, sweet thing?" What? At first, you think he's talking about the giant tear stain on the sheets, and then embarrassment takes over when you think you might have peed yourself-

but when a finger strokes down your folds, you gasp.

You're wet.

You struggle to get away, only resulting in rolling enough that Simon is able to flip you to your back, one hand holding your knee to his chest, the other behind your shoulders, holding you still. It's too rough on your skin, and you shriek, voice cutting out as you feel something damp. There's a wet spot beneath you, and the horrified realization sinks in that you did that, that you're so wet you soaked Simon's pants.

"Don't." You hiss, trying to close your legs, but Johnny forces them wide. "Don't touch me!" He chuckles, knuckle running down your seam.

"I dinnae, ye look like ye need to be touched." You try to shove him away, but Simon bands your arms down against your stomach, his elbow now holding you open. "Was goin' wait for this part, but might as well since ye're ready. Let's take a look at ye." What? The blood drains from your face.

"Tests came back clear." Simon tells him, speaking over you like you're not even there. Johnny nods. What tests? His head cocks. "She'll need a shave." You try to force you legs closed again, struggling, and Johnny's free hand swings-

He slaps your pussy. Your eyes widen in shock.

Your traitorous cunt throbs.

"Be a good girl." He admonishes. "Think we can get the doctor here in the next few days?" You whimper.

"Shouldn't be a problem." Simon's thumb is rubbing circles in your shoulder, like he's trying to comfort you. The fight is draining from your body by the second, replaced by an insatiable hunger for something else. A desire to come.

Johnny presses on your clit, and your hips jerk. He laughs. "There she is, hidin' just under the hood. Sensitive little thing." A finger gently pushes inside you, just a fingertip, and you tremble. "Tight too."

"S-stop."

"No." His grin is wolfish, and he slides farther, deeper, making you gasp. "I think ye want to come, doe." He works a circle around your clit, and you buck involuntarily, legs shaking. Your bladder is full, adding to the pressure, and all of it is unbearable. "C'mon then, let's see this little pussy come. Ye can do it." He coos, not even looking at your face, head down and focused where he's stroking inside you and rubbing your clit.

"I don't I- I hate you, let me g-go." You're panting now, trying to ward off your orgasm, desperate to give into their satisfaction. "Nnngh." You moan, sensibility disappearing by the second. Simon's rock hard underneath you, and he grinds against your ass, the scraping and burning only fueling your climb to the peak. You clench your eyes shut as a hand smoothes over your lower belly, and then pushes.

"Stop!" you shriek. "I have to pee- n-no, stop." Johnny's eyes turn mad, and Simon laughs.

"Dinnae let go, doe. Or ye'll be punished again. Hold it in." You sputter and choke on a groan as Johnny flicks your clit and then strokes it harder, fucking you with his finger just as fast, shoving you into an orgasm that has you screaming, blinding white light behind your eyes.

"Good girl!" Simon praises like you've just scored a goal or gotten an A on a paper, his lips pressing to your forehead. "Just like that, little doe." You ride Johnny's hand, pathetic mewls and moans filling the room until there's nothing left, and you collapse, limp between them.

Everything goes dark.

The world feels fuzzy. Everything feels strange, like you're floating, untethered, gone from this world. The sting of your skin, the burn of the pain takes you somewhere else, and you hardly register being moved to the bed, cool cream being massaged into your skin. They're speaking, but you don't know what's being said, and you can't hold onto consciousness long enough to stay awake. Cool water tips down your throat, and then you slip away, back to the darkness, sleep settling in your bones.

#same cake cut a different way #peaches writes #mafia!au #ghoap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #ghoap x reader where they force you to come is my fav tbh

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grlpartdoll · 2 months

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errrmm idk i have been feeling sluggish and kitty-like all day so I decided to indulge in some fantasies. poly141 with kitty reader who's just a wild, feral little sleepy princess. *mdni* and also be aware of mentions of violence as well as tiny bits of smut! I scribbled this like a madman with his poetry back in the days, under candlelight, breathing feverishly, needing it out of me like some kind of demon needing to be exorcised. So needless to say it's not perfect, not reread, not corrected. Just some raw piece of my messed up lil head! Okay ^___^ Oki enjoy.

wld u like... Da prequel?

It's no secret that you're the team's secret weapon — some half-wild failed scientist experiment that left you more animal than human. Most people don't know exactly what it is you do, or what has been done to you, but they know that if even Ghost is afraid of you, then they better stay in your good graces.

You're a small thing, compared to those men, though in the real world you'd probably be deemed average sized. But next to them, you're tiny, small, even. You play coy and gentle and kind, never having to lift a finger because your boys do it all for you.

Sometimes you will simply drop, lay in a ball, and catnap. Even if it's during training, or in the mess hall, or meetings.

One time, Price was there with his whole team, including you of course, and you were going over training with the new recruits, and talking about how their lives would be from now on.

Until then, everyone but Price had been quiet, simply looking out for him from behind. Until Gaz felt a tug at his sleeve. As instinct went, the recruits' eyes followed you as you rubbed your eyes, a slight pout on your face as you whined quietly that you were sleepy. Like a cat, you stretched yourself wide a long, though even with your arms up, you didn't surpass the men's heights. Arching your back, you pushed yourself up against him, quietly mewling that you wanted your bed.

Scouting the room, he noticed every seat was occupied, so he simply scooped you up, sent that little secret gaze to Price that told him their princess was sleepy, and simply left.

As the recruits toured the barracks, they found gaz and you splayed across one of the old, vintage couch, with you practically disappearing under Gaz's sweatshirt, your little hands (paws) buried underneath it, with your face shoved in his chest.

On another day, while you were showing the recruits how to spar, paired up with Ghost, you got into a particularly scary position, with him cornering you, with his arm around your throat, and you made that tiny, distressed noise in the back of your throat, and that was all it took for him to let go.

You immediately scampered away once Ghost was done telling the recruits how to do what he did exactly, and dismissing them. You were a bit skittish, like a cat, and when cornered, you often bit— went wild again and scratched eyes out, or anything that you could reach, really, and it often put you back into that violent little headspace. You didn't particularly like that headspace — ironic, that you were in the army, sure, but what else were you meant to do with what you were given? — but since it was Ghost, you let him, though unable to swallow the little noises that escaped you.

And he feels horrible for it — because he never wants to hurt their sweet little girl, and god forbid you actually start to fight back again like you did at first.

So he goes to search for you when he's done, cursing underneath his mask when he can't find you. He eventually does, though, finding you curled up in your room, in the adorned little crate Price and the guys had gotten you. When you got into a particularly bad headspace, you would go into the crate (an old habit instilled in you from your old keeper, who would always put you in the crate if you so much as argued with him) which had been covered in pillows and blankets and little string lights to keep you occupied and your mind empty.

You're curled up in there, holding a little ghost plushie to your chest, murmuring a song.

He sits beside you, and speaks to you, slowly coaxing you out until you're curled up in his lap and putty in his hands once again.

It always takes you a few days to come back to normal, but it's always worth it, because Ghost likes his little kitty.

It's no secret, also, that Price likes a desk pet. That he prefers doing paperwork when you're sitting with him, at his feet, your head serenely splayed across his leg.

That's what you exchange for him filling out your mission reports — he gets some company, and you get to go blissfully head empty when he scruffs you and you kneel for him.

As for Soap, he likes the wild little you, so he takes you with him on runs, where it often ends with him chasing you through the woods surrounding the base, and playing games with you. He will play at any games you want until you're all knackered out, whining for him to carry you when you head back for base. This is how you end up forming a routine with Soap, who naps with you every morning until the sun is finally fully up. Price and the others don't particularly think the habit is healthy — to sleep so much, but it's Soap's fault! He's the one who got you running after him, and from him, all over the base! It's his fault you're such a sleepy, tiny little lass. He feels bad to let you sleep it off alone, duh!

But alas,

When you're on the field, you're a completely different person. The best in your field— some might say. This is why, despite your silly antics, and your quite inconvenient sleep schedule, the team keeps you around. (And because they're quite literally crazily in love with you, but.. no one says that. It's casuuuaaaal.)

On the field, you're too active, you swing too hard, claw too deep, and exhaust yourself. And even then, you keep going. You keep running. You're a marvelous sneak artist, getting past thousands of guards. You're a perfect trickster, all it takes is puppy dog eyes and quivering chin from you for enemies to get you inside their strongholds. You're their best sharp shooter, and their best fighter, despite how wild and almost animalistic your fighting style is. You always get the job done, and always do it without hiccups.

But sometimes, of course, not everyone can be perfect. Sometimes, you have so much adrenaline and so much rage built up in you that once the mission is done, you have a hard time disconnecting, you have a hard time stopping your fists from pummeling into an already dead man's face.

You kick and bite and scratch the whole way out as they rip you from dead, cold bodies. Which is exactly why you and the boys have a safe home, where they take you after missions, and fuck you pliant and sweet, bringing you back to the sleepy little wandering creature you are around base.

Soap is the best at it, though, always going full nights at a time with you. Price can go two rounds, maybe four if he's angry with something (never you), Ghost maybe five if he's very pent up and you've been bratting at him, but Gaz and Soap are always the ones that manage to fuck you back into your place the best.

Gaz will be softly murmuring at you, cooing and mumbling sweet words to you while his cock is ramming into your sweet, slick little tight hole, always breaking your walls with the kindest, most softest words, even if each of his thrusts are seemingly bullying your hole into taking him deeper each time he pulls in, and out. In, and out.

But Soap is the one who outdoes your wildness, who bites and scratches like you do, who will let you ride him until you're spent, and then ask for more, bouncing your limp little body on his cock until he cums for the eighth time that night. He's the one who meets every each of your kisses with just as much ferocity, letting it become more of a fight then a sweet, loving gesture — forcing his tongue into your mouth, licking your teeth, nipping at your lips, just plain nasty and gross, until you're both panting and drool is covering both of your chins.

Anyway. I just think it would be a cute little thing, to witness them all match you in different ways.

#simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #tf 141 x reader #poly141 x reader #johny soap mactavish my beloved #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #poly 141 #kitty!reader #kind of weird if you squint #kinda gross #kinda sorta

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auspicioustidings · 11 months

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Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

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Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

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j23r23 · 23 days

Text

That's my wife!

tangerine x wife reader

Waring: Violence and Fluff

BTW: Thank you @little-miss-dilf-lover for being my muse and making me write again 🍊🫶🏻🧡

Tangerine had never been one to keep his temper in check, especially when it came to you. The two of you had been in far worse situations, but today was different. The local police force had no idea who they were dealing with, and it didn’t help that they were handling you both like a pair of thugs.

The officer shoving you into the back of the police car had already crossed a line, his grip too tight, his attitude too arrogant and his hands touching you. But when the other one got rough with you, pushing you toward the vehicle with far more force than necessary and making you trip, something snapped in Tangerine.

“Oi, that’s my wife!” His voice cut through the commotion like a knife, fury lacing every word. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, headbutting the cop who’d been forcing him into the car. The crack of bone against bone was unmistakable, and the officer staggered back, blood pouring from his nose.

Tangerine didn’t stop there. He turned with a wild intensity in his eyes, his curly hair disheveled, one strand falling across his forehead, giving him a feral look. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t do much, but that didn’t stop him. He barreled toward the cop who’d been rough with you, and with another fierce headbutt, sent him sprawling to the ground, clutching his face in pain.

Blood now dripped down Tangerine’s forehead, his hair a mess of curls and sweat. He sniffed, a drop of blood running down to his upper lip before he spit, his saliva tinged with red, at the cop writhing on the pavement. There was a terrifying calmness about him as he turned to you, the fiery rage melting into something softer, more tender.

“You alright, love?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he hadn’t just taken down two cops with nothing but his head. His eyes searched yours, worry etched in every line of his face.

Before you could respond, the other officers started to move in, their shouts filling the air as they surrounded the two of you. But in that moment, all that mattered was Tangerine. Despite the chaos, despite the fact that your hands were cuffed behind your backs, you stepped closer to him. He leand in as close as he could, and you buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body on your cheek. His chin rested on top of your head, his breath coming in soft, reassuring huffs.

“I’m alright,” you murmured into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

His kissed the top of your head, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, that you were safe. You look up wanting to kiss away his worry.

Just as your lips were about to brush his, the moment shattered. Rough hands yanked you backward, pulling you away from Tangerine before you could taste his lips. The separation was brutal the world that had narrowed to just the two of you expanded back out into chaos.

His eyes widened in fury as you were torn apart from eachother, and before either of you could protest, a cop shoved him roughly toward a separate squad car.

“Tangerine!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation as he was pulled away. But before his name fully left your lips, a hand clamped down on your arm, yanking you back so brutally it felt like your shoulder might tear from its socket.

The violent pull sent you stumbling, nearly crashing to the ground. The cop jerked you upright, twisting your arm more with such force that pain shot through your entire body.

"Get the fuck off of her!" Tangerine roared, thrashing against the officers holding him, as he tried to get back to you. But they were too many now, and even he couldn’t fight them all off with his hands cuffed. You struggled too, your heart pounding in your chest, the grip on your arms unyielding, forcing you further away from him.

The last thing you saw before they shoved you into the back of a squad car was Tangerine being kicked into another vehicle, his eyes locked on yours with a look that promised he wouldn’t stop fighting until he got back to you. But then the door slammed shut, cutting off your view. The cold metal of the cuffs dug into your wrists as the car pulled away, the flashing lights reflecting off the windows as the city streets blurred by.

Your mind was spinning, back to Tangerine. You could only imagine what he was going through in the other car, his fury probably pushing him to the brink. You hoped he wouldn’t do anything too reckless—though, knowing him, that was probably a lost cause.

When you finally arrived at the precinct, they dragged you out of the car, your shoulder aching from the rough treatment. You were led through the fluorescent-lit corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the linoleum floor. The air thick with the scent of sweat and cheap coffee. The officers, still on edge from Tangerine’s outburst, were rough as they took your fingerprints, mugshot and your personal belongings.

They put you in a holding cell, the bars cold and unwelcoming as they locked you inside. As you paced the small space, minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart thudding with every creak of the building around you.

Then, finally, you heard a familiar voice outside the cell.

“What the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?”

Lemon’s tone was half exasperated, half amused, though there was an underlying concern that warmed you just a bit. A moment later, the door swung open, and there he was, looking far too calm for someone about to bail his brother and sister-in-law out of jail. His bright yellow jacket stood out starkly against the drab surroundings, like a ray of misplaced sunshine.

Lemon's exasperation clear on his face as he surveyed the mess that was your situation. His eyes softened when they landed on you, taking in the bruises forming on your arms and wrists.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here,” he sighed, pulling some strings with the Sergeant and sliding a few bills across the counter.

“They’re releasing him now,” Lemon said as he guided you out of the cell. “You’re lucky I got here when I did. Tangerine was about to start a riot in his cell...”

You followed Lemon through the station, the tension in your chest easing with each step. When you reached the front desk, you saw Tangerine standing there, still cuffed but very much alive, a bandage hastily slapped across his forehead and his shirt stained with dried blood. His curls even more disheveled than before, but you’d never been happier to see him.

“Lemon, about time, mate,” Tangerine grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, save it for later,” Lemon replied, rolling his eyes but clearly glad to see his brother in one piece. “You two are bloody hopeless, you know that?”

Tangerine ignored the jab. The moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened. He jerked his arms, clearly eager to get to you, but the officer behind the desk held onto his cuffs until the last possible second, as if hoping for one more reason to keep him locked up.

Finally, though, the metal restraints fell away, and Tangerine was free. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms. He held you tight, like he’d never let go again, his lips brushing the top of your head in a silent promise.

“You alright?” he murmured, repeating the question he’d asked before everything went sideways.

“Now I am,” you whispered back, leaning into him as much as you could.

Lemon cleared his throat, making a show of looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Right, well, let’s get out of here before these idiots change their minds. We’ll deal with this mess later.”

With Lemon leading the way, you and Tangerine made your way out of the precinct, your fingers holding his as you walked side by side. As Tangerine pulled you closer, his arm slung protectively around your shoulders.

The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, the city buzzing around you as if nothing had happened.

#tangerine 🍊#tangerine fic #bullet train tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine fanfic #bullet train #bullet train movie #tangerine fluff #lemon and tangerine #protective tangerine

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atypicalamortentia · 1 year

Text

Firsts || Severus Snape

Synopsis - You give your potions professor his first blowjob.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 0.8k.

[Caffeinate Me]

Professor Severus Snape, potions master, had it down bad for you, his final year student.

With a wave of his wand, the door slammed shut and the lock latched. You were sitting on his lap, frantically kissing. Your mouths smashed against each other with a deep desperation. You smirked into his lips as you felt your potions professor grind against you, begging for more. His hands were around your waist as he pulled you closer until you were flush against his chest. Then, he pulled away. “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Sir…” you whispered back, gulping softly. You were about to continue your sentence when he attacked your lips again feverishly. You knew when you called him ‘sir’ it had him weak at the knees.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue forced its way into your mouth, swirling around your own, fighting for dominance. His hands were still planted firmly on your waist, grasping at the clothing that was surrounding your hips. Oh how he wanted more from you.

It was like you could read his mind as you began grinding against him, eager to feel his clothed erection against your most intimate area. You let out a muffled moan against his lips as you continued to grind yourself against him, and he couldn’t help but do the same. The man was close to cumming already and you had barely even touched him.

You hopped off his lap and gave him a cheeky grin before getting onto your knees.

“What are you doing?” He asked, breathing heavily.

“Just relax for me sir,” you whispered, unzipping his trousers. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes and smiled, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Were you really about to do this here?!

You tugged his trousers down with a bit of help from the potions master himself and pulled his cock out of his grey boxers. It was positively huge, something you didn’t expect, and his slit was already leaking with pre-cum. Your mouth instantly began watering at the sight in front of you and before you had even had a chance to think about what you were doing - sucking off your potions professor in the potions room - you were already leaning forward to put his thick cock in your mouth. He tensed as you leaned forward, but immediately relaxed upon the warm heat of your mouth around his length.

“Shit,” he groaned, throwing his head back against his wooden chair. You took him all the way into your mouth, so far back that you were gagging on his cock, tears in your eyes as you looked up at him. The sight drove him wild and he began to fuck your face slowly. You continued to make eye contact with him, admiring the way his face was flushed red and sweat was threatening to spill from his brow as he concentrated on the amount of pleasure you were giving him. You tried to smile at him, but the sheer length of his cock in your mouth made it almost impossible. You swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up his slit and forcing him to shudder underneath you. “Shit - just like that,” he whimpered, hands making their way into your hair as he continued to thrust his hips into your face.

“You taste so good professor,” you mumbled around his cock. The vibrations of your words around his length sent him absolutely feral and he began to fuck your face faster. You gagged a few more times as the force of his thrusts continued to get harsher and harsher. He was using you like you were some sort of toy, and you were completely okay with that. You knew this was his first time and you wanted it to be pleasurable for him.

“Ah - I’m going to cum Y/N,” he groaned loudly as his movements picked up in speed. You hallowed your cheeks and continued to suck like your life depended on it until he spilled his seed down your throat, his hips stuttering violently. When he was finished, he retracted his cock from your mouth and placed his hand on your jaw to prevent you from opening your mouth. “That’s a good girl, swallow it. Swallow all of it.” You did as you were told, swallowing every last drop he gave you whilst still maintaining eye contact. “Such a good girl.”

He released your jaw and smiled awkwardly at you as you stood up from your kneeling position, rubbing at your red raw knees. “That was certainly interesting, sir,” you smiled. “But next time, I get to cum.”

He nodded, nerves fluttering in his stomach slightly, but he was too caught up in the afterglow of cumming to truly focus on your words. With a small peck on the lips, you turned to leave, leaving the potions master alone once more.

Professor Severus Snape, potions master, had it down bad for you, his final year student.

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ohraicodoll · 2 years

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DESPERATELY NEED FERAL READER WITH EP 8 WITH AN INJURED JOEL AND KIDNAPPED ELLIE…….. I KNOW OUR CRAZY QUEEN WOULD KILL EVERYONE ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Yall asked for it lol

Violent Delights Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They took her kid and she was getting her back. Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and torture

She woke up with a start, having drifted off unknowingly after trying to keep watch, a sense of disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was and what was happening. The basement. They were still in the basement, the cold leeching any warmth from the walls and floors, the haggard breathing of her companion her only company. It’d been over 48 hours since she last slept, since Joel was hurt and they’d had to drag him into the house and patch him up. He wasn’t in good shape. Joel was so close to death’s door, it terrified her. They were so close to losing him and she had never felt more helpless.

She could still hear his pained groans, the glazed and blank look in his eyes, as she put pressure on the bleeding hole in his stomach just a couple days before. “Don’t you dare die, Joel. You still have to make shit up to me and you can’t do that dead. You can’t leave us again.” He’d tried to tell them to leave him. To go back to Tommy’s and leave him behind, the stubborn asshole. But Ellie managed to find the first aid kit and they’d sewn up the hole, wrapping it best they could with the little supplies they had. She knew it wasn’t enough. There could be shards left from the baseball bat, they weren’t the cleanest, nothing was sterile. She didn’t even know if something internal had been damaged. But it was all they could do. They’d been so focused on getting to Colorado they’d been using their food storage rather than hunting over the past week. Now it was biting them in the ass, their supplies dwindled. She’d managed to briefly go out and hunt down a rabbit, but game seemed scarce and leaving meant leaving Ellie and Joel alone. Without Joel, it was hard to sleep, look after Ellie, look after him and keep him stable, look after the fucking horses, and hunt. She was overwhelmed. So sleep went out the window. She took watch when Ellie was asleep, went and tried to hunt and scavenge the nearby houses when she was awake, and kept an eye on Joel in between taking care of the two horses in the garage. But at some point she’d fallen asleep finally, fallen deep and hard enough that she hadn’t noticed Ellie slipping the rifle from her hands and leaving the two adults alone. A small scribbled note was placed on her lap on a piece of what looked like newspaper, “Be back soon -E.” She scrambled to her feet, looking around and cursed herself. Joel was still breathing steadily but his brow was covered with sweat from the infection he was staving off. Both their packs were against the wall but Ellie’s was gone and the panic that took hold was like a lightning bolt. It stole the breath from her lungs. Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone- it was a racing thought that circulated over and over again. Her main purpose, main job, and she’d fucking fallen asleep.

Her heart jumped further at hearing footsteps above her head, the slight creak and shift in the old wood, a door slamming…then it all came out in deep relief as she recognized the light shuffling.

Ellie raced down the steps, cheeks pink from cold and wind, and breath huffing out in a rush as she entered the basement.

She grabbed the girl immediately, shaking her by the shoulders with the vestiges of panic still in her blood, “Where did you go, Ellie? You weren’t supposed to leave!”

The teenager paused, eyes frantic and a little wild, but a tough set to her lips as she shook her head, “I went hunting and you needed sleep! I had to, but look! I got Joel medicine!” Ellie took the bottles out of their wrap, quickly moving away from her and kneeling down to Joel, beginning to lift up his shirt before she could even get a good look at what she had. The wound was ugly and discolored and she could hear him groan at the small touches. Her mind was still caught up in the panic of discovering the girl was gone and she quickly snatched the bottles away before the syringe was inserted. “Where did you get this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands. Penicillin. Two whole bottles of penicillin, practically liquid gold in their world, and Ellie had managed to get it while she slept. The teen looked nervous and tried to snatch it back, but she was quick even if she was exhausted and pulled her hand away, “Please, can we give it to him first and then I’ll explain?” Her eyes were so big for her face, cheeks pink. Her desperation to help Joel was evident. Ellie knew how bad he was doing and believed she held the cure to it all in her hands. She could only sigh and hand it back over, instructing her to give just a fourth of the bottle and to tap the syringe. Joel would probably have a heart attack if he knew she was letting the kid give it to him, but she knew Ellie had to do this herself. It was her win and she had to feel like she was the one saving him so she let her. But then they both stared, her knowledge only getting them that far. “Where the fuck am I suppose to put this?” Ellie cursed, looking at the wound and Joel’s arm, eyes switching between hers and his closed ones, “Fuck, how are we supposed to do this?” She cursed herself. Her medical knowledge was mediocre. Stitching, cleaning wounds, pulling out bullets, the basics they needed. Infections and medicine she had no clue about, “Just give it to him in his stomach. As long as it enters his blood stream, it should be fine.” At least, that’s what she thought. Ellie winced and inserted the needle, Joel giving out pained groans as it sunk into the sensitive area. They both watched the plunger empty the contents and then she pulled it out, trying to clean the needle the best she could. They only had one syringe and would have to reuse it. “And now we wait,” the teen commented and looked at his face as if at any second he would be magically better. He would wake up and smile and tell her good job. But he didn’t, staying silent on the small makeshift bed. “No, now you tell me where you went and how you got that,” she bit out, sitting on the other side of Joel to face her. Ellie winced and looked down at the small glass bottles in her hand, “You needed to sleep and we needed food. I know you think you can take care of all of us, but you can’t and I wanted to help by trying to hunt.” “That’s not your responsibility-” “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to help,” Ellie cut her off but then sighed, “And I did manage to actually get a deer…but I ran into these guys...” Instantly, she was on high alert, eyes searching everything that was visible and checking her for any wounds, “You ran into people and you’re barely telling me!” “I know!” the young girl argued back, hand resting on top of Joel’s, “They found my deer before me and said they were from a group with starving women and children. They offered to trade for half the deer and said they had medicine. I did everything I was supposed to! Got them to drop their guns, unloaded their rifles, and had them back away. One went to get the medicine and I kept the gun on the other.”

“So you gave them half the deer and they gave you the medicine then just let you go?” she asked and clenched and unclenched her fists. Ellie wouldn’t look so nervous if that was the whole story and she wasn’t nearly tired enough to have been dragging half a deer carcass back. Shrugging, Ellie grimaced and refused to meet her eyes, “That was the deal…but they knew who we were. The people that attacked us at the university belonged to their group and this guy started talking about how one of theirs had been killed by a crazy man with two girls. He knows that was Joel. I don’t know why he let me go, but I think they’re looking for us.” With a curse, she quickly stood, hands on her hips and pacing in a tight circle, “Fuck. Fuck. And they didn’t come after you?”

“No, I think they let me go because I was a kid.” She doubted that. People rarely were that charitable, even to children in this world. Especially a child with a gun and an attitude like Ellie’s. The unspoken words were there though. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t come for her and Joel though. Ellie may be deemed innocent but the two of them were problems and only one of them was in commission currently. But what could they do? They couldn’t move Joel in his state. They couldn’t leave him behind either. They were stuck. “Okay. Maybe if they let you go they don’t plan on coming. Maybe they think both of us are injured if you were out on your own and won’t come,” she lied comfortingly and tried to speak the words into existence, knowing the kid was probably feeling guilty and needed some hope. They needed rest, needed to breathe for a second, and panicking now wouldn’t help. It took a while to relax enough to let the adrenaline fade away.

Ellie laid down, exhausted, tucking into Joel’s side as she had the past couple nights and resting her head on his shoulder. He subconsciously leaned into her, still alive for now. Her heart ached at the sight, the way they held each other in their own ways. She didn’t have the strength to get after the girl more or uproot them out of precaution. They were all exhausted and Ellie had somehow managed to bring hope even if there was a cost.

She sat down by the stairs, flipped her knife between her fingers to keep her awake and focused, and watched the two sleep with her heart in her throat.

The men would come. Now that they knew they were in the area, they would come and they were stuck in this spot until Joel was better. There was no way they could get him on a horse and move him now without undoing all the healing he’d done. A thousand scenarios went through her head, sleep now a distant memory in the face of the panic and anxiety plaguing her. How was she supposed to fight off a group and keep them both safe?

She couldn’t. That was the reality of the situation.

The thought hit her over and over again like a blow to the chest, the knife turning between her fingers. _________________________________________ Morning came and she could see Ellie’s disappointment that the medicine hadn’t instantly woken Joel up and made him all better. To ease her mind, they gave him another dose, trying to make the bottles last before shoving the remainder in their bags. They were out of food, the rabbit she had caught two days ago long gone without a way to store it. Joel still wasn’t eating or drinking and she worried that even if they got the infection under control, his body wouldn’t be strong enough to get better. Things were bad. The possibility of Joel dying was a constant chime in her head. It felt like a mockery that he had left and came back only to be almost taken from them permanently. She was angry. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that took the hit. It had been meant for her but he’d pushed her out the way as the bat swung, breaking on the tree, and then tackled the guy. If it had been her, Joel would know what to do. He could take care of them both or at least would have the strength to leave her behind if necessary. She wasn’t sure she could. She was failing him. Failing them both. The basement was suffocating, pressing in on her, and she took the opportunity to go tend to the horses, leaving the girl and her unconscious companion to the pressing weight of disappointment. Her body was beginning to ache from the lack of sleep and food, joints protesting her movement, but she reached down and scooped snow into the small metal bucket for them to get some water. Soon the horses would starve too or be too weak to carry them. Death was creeping up on them. Looking over the neighborhood they were held up in, she sighed at the obvious foot steps leading up through the streets before beginning to methodically cover what she could. Ellie knew better than to leave a trail but she guessed in her hurry to get the medicine back to Joel and get away from the men she had forgotten. And as birds took off in a rush further down the road towards the wooded outskirts, she froze and her heart thundered in her ears.

She felt fear run through her as her thoughts from the night resurfaced and became reality, a living nightmare. They were coming. They had waited for daylight to search them out and were coming now. She knew it, could feel it, and they were out of time. Quickly covering what she could and making false tracks from the other houses, she ran back inside and flew down the stairs to the basement taking two at a time. No time, there was no time. Ellie startled at her rushed appearance and the way she flew across the room to the rifle and her own pack, “What’s happening?”

“Those men you saw are coming,” she huffed out, grabbing the rifle and checking it was loaded before looking around the room as if she could find the answer there.

Turning to Joel, Ellie began to shake his shoulders as if he were merely sleeping and not borderline in a coma, “Fuck. Joel! You have to wake up, Joel. Joel, wake up! Wake the fuck up, Joel!” But he only gasped, pained whimpers leaving his lips, eyelids fluttering.

She bent down and grabbed Ellie by the shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes, “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to take the horse and run.”

“What? No, what about-”

“You run and I’ll follow behind and try to pick them off,” she interrupted, voice adamant, “They’re going to search every house and they will find us eventually. I can’t hold them off like this. I need to know you’re good first and if we’re away from here then it will take the focus off Joel.”

“You want me to go without you?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with fear and her heart ached at the sight, but there was no time.

“I’ll find you,” she promised and dug her fingers tightly into her shoulders as if she could sink the words into her skin, “I will. But you have to go now. We’ll block the entrance to down here, give Joel some time.”

Ellie pressed her lips together and nodded, running to grab her backpack and last minute grabbed one of the larger knives they had. Running back over to Joel, the teen knelt down and placed it on his chest, forcing his hand to grab it. She let her while grabbing the rest of her stuff and placed Joel’s pack into a small cubby under the steps to make it less noticeable.

“Okay, look at me,” Ellie whispered to him while he only groaned in reply, “There are men coming, okay? I’m gonna lead them away from you, Red is going to help get rid of them. But if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?”

“Ellie, hurry,” she bit out, peeking out the small window along the top of the wall. “Joel, do not fall asleep,” the teenager pleaded desperately, squeezing his hand around the knife. She could see his eyes partially open, see his lips trying to move and his fingers twitching trying to grasp the knife. But Ellie finally got up quickly and rushed up the stairs. She went to follow after her and paused, staring back at the unconscious man on the floor. A part of her whispered that this could be the last time she saw him alive. One or both of them could be dead if this didn’t go right. Heart in her throat, she ran back to him and kneeled, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand. “Stay alive for us, please, Joel,” she whispered, squeezing the hand around the knife, but getting back up and running up the stairs. She tried not to look back. Both of them moved the tall kitchen cabinet over the door entryway to the basement, trying to shuffle things around to not make the spot obvious before heading to the garage. They got both horses out, grabbing what she needed from hers and sending silent apologies to Tommy before forcing it to gallop away in the opposite direction with a sharp smack. The other she saved for Ellie to ride, closing the garage door behind them. They’d figure out transportation later when they were out of this mess, but they needed the guys off their trail and two different horse tracks would help. With quick hands, she helped Ellie climb up onto its back.

Shakily, she bit out, “You ride hard and fast and loud. They’re going to come after you but if you go fast they won’t catch you and I’ll hit them from behind. They only know for sure about you right now. Do not look back, Ellie. I’ll find you once it’s safe, I promise.” Ellie was shaking but tried to put on a brave face, nodding and holding onto the reins. She wanted to hug the girl, tell her it was going to be okay, but she wouldn’t lie to her. Not now. The men were close, she knew that. She patted the rear of the horse and nodded a final goodbye, beckoning her to go forward. Her heart screamed to not let her go, that it was safer with her than alone, but they were backed into a corner and she had no choice. They wouldn’t win in a shootout and losing meant Ellie would die. So she watched as the girl rode away down the street away from her, turning until she was completely out of sight, and tried not to flinch at the gunshots that came soon after and the yells of men. She tried to shut off the part of her that wanted to panic, to react and worry. That wasn’t the part she needed to listen to at the moment. Running as far as she could, crossing over fences and staying against the walls of the house, she followed the sound of loud hoof beats and chased after them as they chased after Ellie. Her ears caught on one of them screaming that she was to be left alive, but that didn’t ease the worry in her. Being captured alive wasn’t always a good thing. One of the slower men chasing Ellie fell the furthest behind, wheezing in the cold and trying to clamber in the dense snow. Her own knife in hand, she ran and jumped onto his back, using both their weight to send them forward onto his front behind the cover of some of the shrubs.

He hadn’t been expecting to be attacked from behind and it took him a moment to try and struggle, to lift his face out of the snow to breathe, and she took advantage of that by stabbing deep into the back of his neck. He groaned, the sound muffled, and she pulled the blade out and sunk it in again and again with a growl. The snow was staining red around them. He stopped moving. One down. She stood and took off, the cold biting into her lungs and stealing her breath. The terrain was hard and the one kill had put her farther behind the group, forcing her to cut across more backyards to catch up, but she could only hope Ellie had done what she asked and was out of range. She could catch the rest of them once they scattered. But then a gunshot rang out close by. The sound of a horse’s cry ripped through her, tore her soul to shreds, and she knew if she lived beyond the day she would hear that sound forever in her nightmares.

She ran. She left all care of stealth behind and ran fast and hard, dodging trees and fallen branches and then ran faster when another gun shot rang out. The chest felt like it was being cleaved open by the panic, fear gripping her tightly. They wouldn’t have shot her. They wouldn’t have killed her. She was a kid, they wouldn’t-

And then she watched from the trees as the group surrounded Ellie who was on the ground, her horse unmoving not far away, and a tall skinny man picked her up and began to walk away with her. She raised the rifle, looking down the scope, and cursed as the men separated and began to head back into the neighborhood. No doubt to continue their search for Joel and her.

She could see Ellie’s face through the scope, the loll of her head, but she was gripped too closely to the man’s body. He was walking further and further away. Two sides of her screamed. Leaving to go after them meant abandoning Joel, but staying behind meant leaving Ellie. She wanted to press the trigger, shoot, but knew it was too risky with Ellie in the man’s arms. She could so easily accidentally kill the girl if she was one inch off and her hands were too shaky from exhaustion to be precise. Only some of the group was going back, the others looking like they were continuing to scout the area.

She knew what she had to do, what Joel would tell her to do, but the reality of it felt impossible. If they found Joel, he’d die for sure. But she wasn’t sure she could live with leaving Ellie.

The men with the girl were getting farther away and a choice had to be made.

So she swallowed the sob in her throat and let the rage she felt consume her completely, push her forward, and followed behind the group to where they would take her kid. __________________________ It was getting harder and harder to follow along as the wind began to kick up a notch. She needed to see where they were taking Ellie, but she was tired and the cold was sinking in, her body struggling to keep going. And as they entered the town, it was getting difficult to avoid being seen. Too many buildings, too many open areas, and she didn’t know who could be watching. She knew they had entered one of the nearby buildings, but wasn’t sure which. The clock was ticking in her mind, Ellie’s life on one hand and Joel’s on the other. What good was she if she couldn’t save her people? Blood crusted on her fingers as she entered the first of the buildings quietly, finding a back entrance. It was dark but she could hear voices nearby as she found herself in some kind of storage room, the cold still reaching her through the walls. She wasn’t used to carrying the rifle. It had always been Joel’s weapon thanks to its weight, her preferring knives or a small pistol or even a bow when she could find one. So when she crouched down to ease her way over to the swinging door leading further inside, she winced when it thudded and scraped against the floor, the sound so loud in her ears. The voices paused and she froze, eyes wide and watching the door. There was shuffling and she quickly backed away into a darkened corner, pulling her knife out. Steps came closer and she held her breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The door swung open and she could see a man enter, beard a little rough and looking a little ragged, cheeks red from the cold. He frowned, looking around, gaze shifting over what he could. He turned to look at the back door, back facing her, and only then did she realize she had tracked snow inside and it hadn’t quite melted. Lunging, she stuck the blade deep into his lower back with all her might and threw her arm around his neck, choking him hard. A cry of pain tried to leave his lips, breath cut off, and he struggled wildly. She twisted the knife, feeling blood coat her hand. “Where is the girl?” she hissed, jerking the blade deeper. He sobbed and made pathetic mewling sounds of pain, voice wispy from lack of air, “Please, I don’t know-” She twisted, hearing the squelch of flesh tearing, “The teenage girl your buddy grabbed, where is she?” The distinct smell of piss lingered in the air and he sobbed out, “I don’t know! Oh god.” Steps were coming close again and she growled, keeping her grip on the knife buried in his body and shifting her arm away from his neck to hold the back of his collar. He wheezed in air, blood starting to bubble from his lips. The door burst open and the distinct sound of a gun rising echoed in the tiny room, only to pause as she held the man in front of her like a shield, mostly hidden by his body. “Howard-” A woman’s voice. All the people who had attacked them had been men.

She wouldn’t have the information she needed. With a growl of frustration, she shoved the body at her, letting his dead weight hit her and trap the woman against the wall. She let out a startled cry and the delay gave her just enough time to unholster her pistol and shoot her in the head. The numbness that was a twin to her rage had sunk into her skin, blanketing her all over. She’d search the buildings, one by one, and kill whoever she had to to find her kid. She didn’t care. Stepping over the bodies, she moved into the area they had been in before she drew their attention and paused, icy horror filling her. A leg was in the process of being cut apart, small chunks set aside and being wrapped up as if to store for later. It was a kitchen, most likely used to prepare food for stage, large makeshift smokers and pits along the back unused. The ticking clock in her mind sped up as the reality of what she’d uncovered hit her. Cannibals. These people that had taken Ellie were cannibals. A strong hit to her back sent her stumbling forward and clattering to her knees. She grunted and scrambled forward as a stomp missed her, hitting the ground instead. There’d been someone still in the room and she’d been too distracted to notice.

Rolling onto her back, gun still in her hand, she aimed and managed to shoot the knee out of her assailant as he raised a butcher knife. He crumpled to the ground with a cry and she got to her feet slowly, gun raised and trained on him.

The guy was younger, but thin and haggard looking. His bravado hadn’t fully left him though as he stared her down, anger in his eyes, “You fucking bitch. You blew out my fucking knee.” He tried to get up but she aimed at his head, making him freeze. “I’ll shoot the other one too if you don’t shut up and tell me where the girl you kidnapped is,” she snarled, adrenaline helping to keep the firearm steady on him. His nose wrinkled and he spit at her, brow furrowed.

Stubborn. Younger guys were so stubborn.

She pulled the trigger and watched his other knee explode as the bullet met his target. The man screamed and she quickly knelt down, shoving her hand over his mouth and placing the still warm barrel against his forehead. Tears leaked out his eyes, making little dirt tracks through the grime on his skin.

“Where the fuck is she?” she screamed into his face and the sound was almost inhuman, gravel and fury warping it almost into a howl.

But he only shook his head, eyes defiant. Frustrated, she stood, looking at the meat cleaver in his hand and the human leg on the table. She didn’t have time for this. Ellie was out there and the situation was worse than she thought. Not even meeting his eyes, she raised the gun and shot him in the head. He wasn’t going to give her any information.

She raced back outside through the back door she had entered, heart in her throat and a panicked scream wanting to leave her lips.

The storm was picking up as an idea hit her. If she searched each building, there was no guarantee she’d find someone with information in time. She had to draw their attention. Maybe lure them out. They had wanted Ellie alive for the moment. If she could distract them, it may buy her time.

Chewing her lip, she kneeled behind the building and swung her pack around to dig through it. Her hand wrapped around a small glass bottle that had been carefully secured in the middle of her clothes and yanked it out along with one of her old shirts. They’d been saving it for emergencies, using it to sterilize what they could, but she needed it for something else now. Her face stung from the cold wind and her hands shook, but she managed to tear cloth and shove it into the liquor bottle, saturating the fabric, before she put her pack back on and stood.

Time to make a big fucking distraction.

Blocking the wind with her hands, she lit a match and watched as the tip of the cloth burned bright with flames.

With a snarl, she tossed the molotov through the window of the next building, ducking down and watching as the flames exploded inside. Screams and shouts followed, telling her there had been people inside, and she waited for more voices to join them. Someone would investigate or come outside.

Like clockwork, a man rushed out into the cold and she gripped her bloody knife at the familiar face. One of the men that had come back with Ellie. He cursed and ran through the snow, yelling that he was going to grab the fire extinguisher next door while the others scrambled to put the flames out. She followed, quiet, lava flowing through her and teeth bared. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore.

The wind blocked any sound she made as she rushed after him into the alley and lunged, shoving him into the cold brick wall with a loud crack. She growled and grabbed his hair, gripping it tightly and smashing it into the bricks once then twice. He tried to push away and turn, but she kneed him hard in the spine, driving him to his knees. “Where is the girl?” she snarled into his ear, knife to his throat. Blood poured down an open wound on his forehead, one eye blinded by red, as he finally took in who had grabbed him, “fuck you,” “Wrong answer,” she yanked his hair and slammed it into the wall again. When he went to raise his hand to fight her, she stabbed the blade through his hand and into the ground. His screams were carried away by the wind and snow, the shouts of his group telling her they were still distracted by the fire. “The girl your group grabbed,” the words were all razors and broken glass, almost the sound of an animal snarl, “Where did you take her?” He sneered at her, trying to put on a strong front through the pain, “That bitch is probably soup by now.” She stepped on the knife, the blade so far in his hand the hilt was pressing against the back, “I can make this last a fucking lifetime. Your choice. Where-” “Please, don’t-” Frustrated, she ripped the knife out and placed the tip just inside his mouth, “Last chance. Where is she?” The tip clinked against his teeth and he hung his mouth open to avoid being cut, his beard a mess of blood and spit and green eyes wide with fear finally. She tried not to feel satisfaction as seeing that, understanding setting in for him. He lifted his bloody hand and tried to point across the street, stuttering out, “Steakhouse. The fucking steakhouse. David has her in there.” She looked at him, eye swollen, and blood coating the front of his face, clearly terrified.

Slowly, she took the blade away, watching his lips wobble with sobs and slight relief. Then she slit his throat, continuing to move behind the buildings even as his blood sprayed out and soaked her clothes and his pleas gurgled and quieted.

The steakhouse was a few more buildings down across the street, “Todd’s Steakhouse” still written on the sign out front. The storm was a blizzard now, sharp stinging snow hitting her skin and turning the blood on her into patches of ice. There were yells, panicked screams, and she wondered if they had found the bodies. If they had found the blood and chaos she had left in her wake.

But with a destination in sight, she had let her guard down and she cursed herself later on for it. Arms wrapped around her torso, crushing the rifle into her back, and she kicked at the air as she was dragged back against a brick wall.

“You fucking bitch!” Screamed into her ear and she was tossed to the ground, teeth clattering from the impact.

A kick landed in her stomach and she grunted, the air leaving her lungs, but she had enough sense to grab onto the leg and cling to it. The move caught the man off balance and he tripped, falling to the ground next to her. Her blade was somewhere in the snow and she struggled to dig around for it, sharp steel nicking her fingers as she found it only to be thrown onto her back.

The man climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his weight so heavy and her pack on her back making the move crushing. She grit her teeth and bucked, thrashing to try and get him off of her. But he only grinned, pulling back and decking her in the face. Stars lit up behind her eyes, a high pitch ringing all she could hear as pain exploded through her head.

He pulled back to punch again and her fingers found the cold metal in the snow. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the sharp steel cut into her palm as she grabbed it by the blade instead of the hilt, and stabbed it into his lower throat. She didn’t stop, only switching to pull it out by its handle this time, and stabbed again and again, blood reigning down onto her.

With a howl, she shoved him off of her and sent a final stab into his face, snow soaking into her and pain a radiating heat. Everything hurt and it was an effort to get up and roll onto her side, staring at the decimated body next to her.

She spit blood on him and stood. There was smoke coming from all around her, the fire having caught from the molotov and moving on building to building. Across the way, smoke could be seen from the steakhouse and she swallowed her pain, letting adrenaline carry her to the front doors. Her hands shook as she tried the handles, pulling again and again but they stayed locked and shut. Growling, she threw her shoulder into it. She was so close. She had found the place and was so close and a locked fucking door was all that was keeping her away. Her breathing was quick and frantic as she looked over the front and tried to reason that there had to be a back door or an employee entrance. Her hands skimmed the wall to try and keep upright, knowing soon the exhaustion and pain would take over, but she tried to push it back. Ellie had to be close. She needed to keep going a little bit further and then she’d get her kid and they’d go get Joel.

Her steps stumbled and she pushed off the wall, screaming at herself to stay steady. There, she could see the back door. Plain and wooden, easy enough to shoot the lock off and get inside. With shaky fingers, she unhooked the rifle from her shoulder, the weight of it almost unbearable, and took two shots to get the lock blown off. Her legs were shaky as she climbed the few steps and opened the door, smoke pouring out. She coughed and tried to wave it away, stepping inside and feeling the heat. She had taken only a few steps into the building and stopped, hearing a familiar voice. “Red?” Relief flooded her, eyes instantly filling with tears, as Ellie emerged from the smoke not too far in front of her. Ellie was there, hair a mess and half tumbling out of her ponytail, blood splattered and smeared all over her face and clothes. It took her a while to realize she was standing there, actually standing there, watching as the girl stumbled forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

Smoke and fire was all around them, but she couldn’t care because she had Ellie and they were both alive and safe now. With shaky hands, she managed to direct them back out of the building and into the cold, fresh air. Her promise rang in her ears and she whispered them out loud as she clung to the girl, “I found you. I found you. I’ll always find you.” And she had, but not quick enough. She knew that something awful had happened, that Ellie was now one step closer to being what her and Joel were. The tough exterior had crumbled away and all that was left was a shocked girl who’d had a piece of her soul cleaved away. Her nose was busted and she knew that look in her eyes, the horror and pain at doing something ugly but necessary. Ellie’s lips were shaking as she looked her over and she was so focused on the girl she almost didn’t see Joel coming around the corner. Joel, standing and whole and alive, coming towards them like Ellie was a gravity well pulling both of them towards her. His eyes met hers and the relief was bright, even if she was dripping in blood. But Ellie hadn’t noticed the shift in attention, hadn’t heard his steps, and when he went to grab her she bucked and thrashed in his arms in sheer desperation. So much like her, a wild animal fighting not to be caged. Her heart tore apart, shredded to pieces, at the painful screams then broken sobs as she realized who was holding on to her.

Joel only kept whispering, “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here.” “He- I-” she stuttered, eyes glazed and searching both of theirs. Joel held on with all his might, trying to ease her, gentle words soothing. And the girl crumbled, falling into his arms and clinging to him tightly as much as he was clinging to her. His eyes met hers and she let the exhaustion hit her and carry her towards them, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around them both. All three of them, blood soaked, finally home with each other.

______________ Feral Reader Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x oc #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #tlou #the last of us #feral reader #series: feral #raicodoll writes

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artemisgrayy · 6 months

Note

Okay but I don't think anyone here would mind if you wrote some Alastor aftercare as well!

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW, BDSM, drawing blood (teeth/claws), breath play, creampie, Alastor's shadow, rough sex, aftercare

A/n: I've been so busy with Real Life™️ but I can't stop thinking about Dom Alastor and his aftercare routine 👀 thank you so much for this prompt! 🥹

I'm also trying a new format? So feedback is VERY appreciated.

✨ Masterlist ✨

A big huge shout-out to @vielle-art for the proofread/copyedits 💖

18+ - Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Dom!Alastor will bind you to the bed, his shadow tendrils like icy shackles against your wrists, ankles, and throat. The radio demon will circle you, a wicked smile on his face as he looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, watching you struggle helplessly and begging to be let go. His wicked laugh overshadows your gasp when you come close to freedom only for them to pull you back down again.

Dom!Alastor has no hesitation when it comes to sinking his teeth into your inner thighs. The sound of your scream when he draws blood triggers a primal growl to escape from his throat. He likes to hold your gaze while his tongue licks the blood off your skin, edging closer to your exposed heat, and stopping just shy of it.

Dom!Alastor takes safe word usage very seriously but It's a game to him. The demon will push you right to your limit, teetering on the line. He loves to see you squirm, whimpering and on the brink of breaking beneath him.

Dom!Alastor likes to use his claws to gently trace along your clit, basking in the noises you make when he applies just enough pressure that you're writhing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Dom!Alastor will wait until you're breathlessly pleading, your chest heaving with such desire that you can't take it anymore -- and he'll wait just a bit longer. Your pathetic whimpers and bargaining remind him of someone begging for their life, and nothing ignites his desire more than that.

Dom!Alastor uses his shadowy tendrils to pin your neck down, forcing you to lock eyes with him when he climbs on top of you. He's consumed by the ecstasy painted across your face when his cock pushes through your folds. His maniacal chuckle rings through your ears as your vision blackens. He loves the expression you make when you're robbed of oxygen, overwhelmed by his monstrous length stretching you out, inch by inch.

Dom!Alastor only allows you a moment to gasp for breath when he loosens the hold around your neck before he starts fucking you relentlessly, feeding into your desperation.

Dom!Alastor wants to hear you say who you belong to, over and over again. He grows more feral with each "I belong to you, Alastor" as you fall further and further into subspace. His eyes blacken, the horns on his head jut out violently, and his radio-filtered snarls echo off the walls of the room.

Dom!Alastor gets enthralled by the way you submit further for him. He'll use the shadow to flip you over so he can take you from behind - his favourite position. He wants to fuck you like the animal you are.

Dom!Alastor loves the way you cry out when he sinks one set of his claws into your waist, intentionally carving through the skin. He'll use his other hand to pin your head to the pillow, hair ripping from your scalp as he hungrily bucks his hips against your ass.

Dom!Alastor will grab your wrist when he catches you massaging your clit, chasing your own release. "Ah ah ah," he barks, "you'll cum when I tell you to."

Dom!Alastor gets driven wild by the way you beg, plead, and bargain for your release when you're right on the cusp. His thrusts become more aggressive as he feeds off of your desperation.

Dom!Alastor will pull you up by your hair to hold you against him. He wants to see your face when he whispers "cum, my doe."

Dom!Alastor growls violently as he feels the walls of your pussy clutch his cock when the orgasm rips through you. It pushes him over the edge, his seed spilling inside of you. He loves the idea of filling you up and marking you as his own - physically laying claim to his possession.

Dom!Alastor doesn't take long to shift into aftercare mode when he notices you trembling. When the tendrils release their hold, he'll pick you up and pull you under the covers, cradling you against him.

Dom!Alastor will summon a gramophone, playing soft jazz that echoes through the vastness of the room as he runs his fingers through your hair. You sit like that for a few minutes while you bask in post-orgasm haze together.

Dom!Alastor confirms your boundaries; he ensures that, despite everything, you feel safe. It doesn't matter to him how long he's known you - he'll check in with you again and again. He'll listen to your words, your feedback, all while cradling your face as you look up at him.

Dom!Alastor Cleans and bandages your lacerations, apologizing when you flinch from the acrid bite of the antiseptic. He's captivated and almost giddy by the way you let him leave his mark on you. He'll whisper to you- only you - about how beautiful your body, your flesh, and all of you looks, as he gingerly runs his claws against your skin.

Dom!Alastor materializes your favourite pyjamas and puts them on for you, careful not to disturb any of the still-raw injuries he's decorated your body with.

Dom!Alastor drifts his claws through your hair, your head on his chest. "Good girl," he whispers, his mellifluous voice coating your ears like the sweetest honey as you surrender to sleep.

✨ Masterlist ✨

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor fanfiction #alastor is in hell for a reason #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #bd/sm kink #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin alastor

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dark-and-kawaii · 16 days

Note

Okay but think about this? being Halsins little plaything while in the grove

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ Pᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ໒꒱˚｡⋆

⊹₊⟡⋆ Content: NSWF - Creampie - Large Cock Stretching You - Thick Meaty Fingers Stretching Your Ass - Tip Of His Cock Kissing Your Cervix - Belly Bulge

⊹₊⟡⋆ Notes: Eeeee ♡ ♡ ♡!!!! Yes!!! Being Halsin’s perfect little plaything would be so delicious. That man is packing quite the meat in his pants so you’d be filled so nicely, but your poor insides would be so bruised. Let’s be honest, you’d also never grow accustomed to how thick he is.

You mindlessly writhe against Halsin, you felt so full, so bloated from the copious amounts of cum he’s dumped inside you- so split open on his cock.

The cutest strangled mewls leave your kiss bitten swollen lips as large calloused fingers press hard circles onto that perky bundle of nerves- rubbing you to completion, you sob at the intensity- “H-Halsin~! S’too deep!!! Feels li-ke haa~!!” Your cunt tightens- pulsating around him as you squirt- a gush of fluids leave you, and he only pushes deeper, grinding into that sensitive cervix of your, “Ahh~♡ m’massaging mah w-womb~ ♡ s’with your co-cock~~”

The arch Druid pulls back just to snap forward- the force of the thrust makes your entire body lurch forward, your tongue lolls out, eyes rolled up- a loud and needy squeal leaving you. Halsin chuckles as he repeats the action, watching as your breast and tongue bounce and sway with the violent movements, Look at you, my heart. Giving in to the pleasures nature has to offer.” A hand reaches toward your puckered ass- a finger prodding it teasingly, before he slides a digit in- and you wail at the sensation.

Another digit, stretching your tight ring, you feel your eyes begin to water as you babble incoherently, “nyoooo~!!! S’too meaty!!! Your fingers!! W-won't fi- fit, won't fit!! M-my body's gonna- gonna b-bre-breeak! ♡! M-my ass is goin’a s-plit ~! ♡ Aha~! ♡!!!”

Halsin hushes you softly, a tenderness in his voice as he speaks, though he doesn’t stop thrusting into you, his two thick digits moving in a scissoring motion to loosen up that tight ass of yours- and it feels like he's about to rip you apart, “You've been well for me. Making a beautiful mess, coating my body with your nectar.”

You were so perfect, perfect for him. Your body left like the perfect vice, so tight, so warm. Halsin groans at the lewd squelching noises- your pussy sucking him in, your blown out eyes, the cute little sounds you make as he stretches both your holes…

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you were crying out- begging for him to stop, yet still you ground back into his cock and fingers, desperately seeking out that release. That animalistic need, the feral hunger, it was driving him to the brink of madness, and just as his body started to glow- just before he could wild shape-

With a final thrust he pulls you into a passionate, burning kiss that pushes you both to the brink. Your mind goes blank, your eyes crossed as you see stars, and the heat- that heat, the one that's been simmering, that's been boiling all this time… It finally explodes. And a torrent of cum floods you, fills you to the brim, and you can do nothing but hold onto him, your legs weakly wrapping around him- pushing his fingers deeper into your ass as you feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

The Druids hot seed creates a thick creamy circle around his cock, oozing out and splattering on the earth below. Coating his hand that’s still working you- still moving in and out of that tight ring…

In one fluid motion, and a pop as he removes his fingers, Halsin pulled out of that snug embrace of your dripping cunt, like a bear waking from a long winter's slumber, and rolled to his back. His large hands gripped your hips, dragging you along with him, and leaving your lower body sprawled over his, legs splayed to each side of his hairy thighs.

He strokes your back, the pads of his fingers brushing your sweaty skin, his touch feather light and soothing. You can only manage a soft hum in response, feeling the exhaustion creeping up…

You were so perfect for him. The perfect sleeve, the perfect hole for release. And as his seed slowly leaks out of you, Halsin smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #Halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #bg3 smut #smut #fanfic #writers on tumblr #halsin smut #halsin x tav #halsin x reader

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nerdy-novelist017 · 27 days

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Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give.

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion.

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.”

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons.

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette.

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you.

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone.

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying.

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone?

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness.

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.”

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation.

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place.

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin.

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before.

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes.

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake.

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole.

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite

#i’m just a girl #I see a sexy man covered in blood and I have to fantasize #i could go on #the crow #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skargard #the crow 2024 #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #eric draven #imagine #eric draven x reader #eric draven x you #bill skarsgard x you

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diejager · 8 months

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Is there a Milf reader who have to take care of task 141 when they ask for a night stay? >:)) imagine they are your husband friends. (Your husband couldn’t knock you out so they help)

Affair Cw: implied cheating, voice kink, polygamy, creampie, rough sex, soft sex, fluff, fivesome/gangbang, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

Your husband, sweet Tom, had friends over, drinking and laughing echoing from the kitchen, loud and boisterous sounds filled with ease and pleasure. You’d never heard him so joyous with anyone else - apart from you, he was a loving man - joking and chuckling so openly, in comparison to his quiet and humble self outside of your home.

Donning a robe over your attire, you wrapped yourself warmly before walking down the stairs, padded feet muffling your steps down the smooth, wooden flooring. You gazed into the dining room, staring at Tom’s back at the end of the table, his leaner build in contrast to his friend’s broad shoulders, and the dichotomy of their various personality that shine through their eyes. Unlike your husband’s soft hazel, the four men had beautiful shades, two blues: a violent, stormy blue and a bright, electric sky, and two browns: a dark and thunderous brown, and a warm and gentle chocolate. It stirred something in your gut, a warmth that shouldn’t be there.

Your sudden appearance had surprised them, four pairs of eyes alerting Tom that you stumbled into their little chat. Tom peered over his shoulder, his pretty hazel meeting your eyes and smiled softly, coaxing you over his side with a hand. Pushed forward, you stepped out of the dark hallway and into the lighted room, hand sliding into Tom’s and seated in his lap, bringing your robe closer to your chest.

“My sweet wife,” his eyes gleamed proudly, lips dancing across yours in a delicious show of adoration, “These are my friends from the SAS, dear.”

You let your eyes rove over them, to Tom’s left was a rugged-looking man with a wild mohawk with the electric blues, a zealous smirk gracing his lips. Beside him was the man with dark eyes, a hood pulled over his head and a skull-painted mask over his face, leaving a dusty black painted around his eyes like a dark shroud over his black garments. At the head of the table was a bear-like man in a beanie that exhumed confidence and stoicism with his stormy blue-grey, a cigar hanging from the corner of his lips and arms folded against his chest. And the final man, leaner than the others, but as big as the rest with his warm skin and warmer, chocolate eyes, a well-trimmed moustache and stubble, and his cute, flag-printed cap, casting a shadow over his dazzling eyes.

They all looked at you softly, your name rolling off their tongues with a distinct accent that made your lashes flutter and throat clog, introducing themselves with a little quip of their lips, two smiles, one reckless grin and a gentle squint of his eyes. Kyle was the softest one, John the leading figure, Simon the man shrouded in mystery and Johnny the one with a Scottish drawl. You wouldn’t mind them coming by more often when the kids were asleep upstairs.

Johnny was a feral man, jumping you in bed and tearing your clothes away with two or three gestures, ripping your shirt from the seams and tearing the gusset of your panties into pieces. He left you naked and wanting, writhing under him and his teasing kisses, teeth bared and snarling. Johnny was an overzealous sort, recklessly dominant with his whole body, throwing himself at you without any baseline, going without a plan or second thought. He was a man that believed that acts dictated how he felt and that was how he could show it to you —with his body.

He kissed you roughly, all teeth and biting, nipping at your lip and jaw, sinking into the meat of your neck and shoulder as he split you open on his cock, his veined girth and wild pubes. He praised you with every breath, grasping your hips and waist with a soft grip, kneading your breasts and thigh, fat and skin squeezed between his fingers. He filled you with more than just his cock, he purged you of stress, blowing away any fear away with smothering kisses and the rough tap of his tip against your cervix.

He left you satiated, face buried in your covers and snoring away after he bathed and took care of you, feeding you snacks and water and tucking you to bed. Brushing your hair back and promising to stay until your husband came back, whispering promises to come see you again.

Kyle was an angel, setting the line between what he was willing and wasn’t to do to you, lifting you up slowly, building up a heat in your core and making you boil over the edge. He shrugged off your robes with soft, guiding hands, lowering you to your bed and going down on you as if you were the last thing he’d ever eat. He stretched you open with his tongue and fingers, pulling orgasm after orgasm until you were left a mess. His love language was praises and softness, a gentle dominance with a smile and loving caresses.

He embraced you slowly, pushing into you tender kisses, lips dancing across yours to paint a Renaissance artwork worth being hung in the Salon des Refusés. A painting of your body lost in the throes of pleasure, your face twisted and nipples perked up, toes curled and fingers gripping your bed sheets, and lips glossy as you moan out his name. Kyle put you on a pedestal, a painting rivalling the beauty of Monet’s Olympia, your skin the same softness of her image, your hair spiralled wildly and him waiting against you for your every beck and call. You were the Olympia of his world.

He filled what Johnny couldn’t, his cock leaner than the Scot’s, but he made up with his longer length, brushing against your g-spot before hitting the deepest part of your cunt, drilling a spot for himself with his rapidly growing pace and gentle hold, gripping your hair to have you arch against him, staring up at the ceiling with fluttering lashes.

Simon came third, a wall standing between you and your freedom, a force to submit to. He was a rough lover, hands calloused and gruff voice. He manhandled you into your mattress, pressing your face into your bed while he ploughed through you. He was brutal and silent, taking control of you without uttering a single word, legs open and slick rolling down your thighs. Simon had you call him Sir or Master in the bedroom, having you scream his title and voice your needs to him, cries muffled by your wet cushion.

You felt every graze of his girth, thicker than the two before him and long with heavy balls, his cock throbbing inside of you when you clenched down. He loomed over you, an inked arm forcing you to arch your back, ass raised high and face down by the harsh hold of his hand. He was a mass of fat and muscles, unmoving and rough, snapping his hips against yours while he murmured filthy things, dirty and degrading words before throwing praises, lacing them with demeaning remarks. He swore he’d prepare you for Price, that he was the last step before you’d be completely ruined for anyone else, still filling you up with his cum.

You were unconscious by the time he tucked you in bed, taking his time to clean you up while you dozed away, dreaming about the men who gave you something to dream of while they were gone. When you woke up, you realised he left you a message on your phone under an unknown number, and you added him without a second thought.

When John came over, he expected you to obey him, kneeling by his feet in nothing but your panties, gazing at him with wide and teary eyes, tensing your thighs to drive off the tingling heat between your legs. Your core burned with a wildfire that hungered for more, hole leaky and clenching around nothing while you served John, your lips wrapped around his girth, drooling down his balls. John was stern, demanding to let yourself go to him, but he was hard like Simon, gentle like Kyle and rough like Johnny.

But unlike them, he moved with precision, folding you in half as he pumped you full of himself, his cock abruptly sinking into you before he pulled out completely and snapped his hips, burying himself balls deep inside of you. With your legs hanging off his shoulders and his hand collaring your neck, you let out choked breaths, his thrusts punching the air out of your body with the pointed and precise drive of his hips. He made you come twice before he filled you up, gushing around him with a loud whine, being bred by Tom’s friend from the Air Force.

He left you debauched and ruined, his spend leaking from your cunt and swollen clit throbbing from being pinched and rolled throughout your session. He kissed you goodbye before he left your room, pulling the blanket over your dazed and naked figure.

You couldn’t look at them in the eye when they all gathered for another boy’s night at your house, seated on Tom’s lap, fiddling with your finger as his thumb drew circles on your thigh to soothe your apparently sudden nerves.

“Did you remember to thank them, dear?” He kissed the skin behind your ears, teasing you with his breathy voice.

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