Title: An Act of Revenge
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: Predator: Killer of Killers
Ship: Warlord Predator/Grendel King (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader
Word Count: 7,4k
Warnings: Dubcon, canon typical violence, knifeplay
>> Warlord series Part 01
Author Note: This is the first part of this fic. The whole work is up on AO3! :)
The Hkr'Rcho is an enormous ship. It's so big that it's easy to get lost in its many corridors, especially if you can't read the Yautja language signs. If someone were to get stuck on a clan ship like the Hkr'Rcho without knowing the language or culture of this species, they'd be in serious trouble. Well, sucks to be you!
Your karma must be pretty bad considering how the last six months have gone.
You're lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, bopping one foot up and down, which is resting on your bent knee. As always, the constant hum of the ship's engines and the omnipresent heat on board this ship almost lull you into a light sleep. Humidity also creeps into every corner of the Hkr'Rcho, even the Warlord's quarters. As you quickly learned, he's the leader of an entire clan of warriors.
And you? You're the pet.
The exploding collar has been replaced by an invisible leash that is more effective than anything else – there's no way off this ship. Even if you manage to sneak out of your lord and master's quarters unnoticed, the route to the shuttle bay is lined with Yautja warriors who recognise you and know who you belong to. You've been caught and brought back more than once, locked in his quarters and left to stew like a roast.
The imposing Warchief isn't stupid. He knows he can punish you physically — and he does so occasionally — but the boredom and waiting are far worse. Being confined to his quarters with nothing but the sound of the engine and the occasional passing of a new solar system for days on end is enough to drive a person crazy. It's like solitary confinement when he decides to punish you for misbehaving. Even your food is hurriedly thrown into the room before the door is locked again.
He's not stupid. He quickly figured out how to make you furious, how to make you behave.
Although being the Warlord's pet has its advantages, it's also a double-edged sword.
Hey, on the one hand, you are well fed and clothed, and truly safe from the horrors of space.
The Yautja's diet mainly consists of meat, often even raw or severely undercooked, but they make sure you get exotic fruits and vegetables. In your position as the leader's favourite, they ensure you are fit for your rank. Considering that you have to endure the chief's needs, you need to be well fed. Being mounted by a 350 kg alien warrior is as dangerous as an extreme sport, if not more so.
And you are dressed in high-quality Yautja clothing. The revealing attire definitely shows off your body – you may not have an eight-pack, but the hearty food means the skimpy clothing fits. Not that it would be of much use when the Warlord returns from a hunt or a successful arena tournament. The fabric is no match for his claws and the hunger of the highly decorated warrior from Yautja Prime.
On this ship and in this ongoing situation, it's truly a case of give and take: you've never lived in such luxury before. As a Weyland-Yutani employee, you were paid a meagre wage, given tiny food rations and your life was worth less than the cargo you transported. Under Weyland-Yutani, there were no richly decorated clothes resembling Yautja scales and no sweet, juicy fruit to make your mouth water.
All you have to do is serve the Warlord. You're his pet, his toy and his concubine. You are both his slave and his mate. His scent clings to you, signalling to every other Yautja on this ship that you are out of bounds. Bowing down to the muscle-bound warrior is the price you pay for living in luxury. Should you dare to rebel against him, he will be only too happy to show you who's boss. He has grabbed and taken you by force more than once, but you would be lying if you said you didn't get a strangely erotic kick out of it. Sometimes you act a little more rebellious than you really are because that's what gets him going.
But no matter how you look at it, you share your bed with a brutal killing machine. Truth be told, you don't really like him. This isn't romance; it's a state of affairs. In this tactical game, you're not an equal opponent, but an object: a pet monkey dancing for the Warlord to laugh at. He can throw you across the room and onto the bed with one hand while he loosens his belt with the other. He knows you watch him every time he takes off his armour. He knows you want him.
His bed, a collection of furs — also trophies — is soft and inviting; huge, it beckons you to rest and laze around. Most of the time, you lie bored on this nest of trophies, covered in the Warlord's and your own scent, and the memory of all the times he bent you over and brutally took what he wanted. It's always associated with pain in some way, but when you think about it, you feel a hot tingling sensation running up the inside of your thighs. It's not just bad.
One thing you quickly learn on a Yautja clan ship is that violent sex is normal for these warriors. It's not at all uncommon for them to fight in the corridors and then have sex, sinking into each other with claws and tusks amid blood and bodily fluids. Sex isn't considered good unless there are open wounds or broken bones, and the females often put up a fierce fight. If you take these fights as a yardstick, you're actually being treated relatively gently - this is probably because you break more easily than a Yautja warrior. Don't wanna break the new toy, right?
While you're brooding in frustration and thinking that you could escape through the air vents again if necessary, you hear heavy footsteps approaching. From far away, you can hear battle cries growing louder and echoing through the ship like a dark choir. Great — the hunting party is back. That means the annoying part of this situation is about to begin.
No matter what one might think about the Yautja, a successful hunt is always celebrated extensively. Contrary to all expectations, these people definitely know how to party: they drink sour, high-proof wine and dine as befits great warriors. There are fights, songs and more fights. A good Yautja party doesn't end until someone is seriously injured. Not that you'd ever be invited to something like that, though.
The door opens and, from the thunderous footsteps in the hallway, you already knew 30 seconds ago that your owner was returning to his quarters. The Warlord is as impressive as ever, though now he's covered with blood and has several fresh wounds on his upper body and arm. As the door hisses shut behind him, he doesn't even glance at you. Instead, he places his bone axe among the many other trophies adorning the room.
It's a game. A test. Another way to humiliate you.
He doesn't deign to greet or even acknowledge you when he returns to his quarters from a hunt. You never take your gaze off his body, out of pure caution, and he knows it. This makes him even more eager to put on a show, carefully placing new hunting trophies on the wall or in a corner. He takes his time, occasionally making quiet growling and clicking noises as though humming to himself in a relaxed manner. Meanwhile, you're tense, like nervous prey waiting to be pounced on by a predator.
Next, he takes off his heavy bone coat. This trophy, consisting of xenomorph skeletons, is ridiculously heavy. You could only lift it on your own if you put all your strength into it. He, on the other hand, moves smoothly and gracefully, even with this imposing adornment. He moves his massive body with a robust elegance that lulls you into a false sense of security all too often. Good-looking, is the word that forms in your brain when you look at him.
His muscles glisten in the soft light of the room, making you clench your teeth in anger. You're only too happy to convince yourself that this is pure survival instinct. This physical attraction to the Warlord is your brain's desperate attempt to twist this terrible, traumatic situation into something bearable so that you suffer as little long-term damage as possible. Of course, there are often cases where hostages are attracted to their captors. This is obviously just another such case. Or ist it?
Which of the Creeps would be into knifeplay and edgeplay?
ALRIGHT. CONTENT WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF SKIN GETTING CUT OPEN. IT’S A GIVEN BUT I DO HAVE TO STATE IT SINCE THIS TOYS WITH EDGEPLAY THEMES.
^This also happens with both giving and receiving in mind! If it’s not for you then simply continue scrolling n ignore, please <3 I don’t want anyone getting triggered so I’ve put all of it under a read-more as per usual.
but. if you like stuff like this then this post is for you my fellow perverts.
Toby
He doesn’t feel pain but that doesn’t mean he’s not insane over you slicing him open. He thinks it’s like,,,, the ultimate way of saying he trusts you. And also he just thinks the sight of it with you doing it is hot as fuckkkk. Just seeing you straddle him with a switchblade snapping open gets him harder than anything he thinks of himself. He definitely moans seeing blood slowly well around wherever you decide to cut. Toby could moan just at the thought of you being so in control of his body to begin with.
He’s not picky about what you use unlike those two below but that’s not to say he doesn’t have favorites. And honestly? Toby isn’t super into doing anything on you. It's just not really his thing.
- box cutter / utility blade
- automatic stiletto
Tim
He absolutely loves psyching you out by handing you a hunting blade and telling you to use it on him. Dragging the blade without cutting doesn’t do much for him unless he can see you shaking in nervousness. He’s almost purely into it for masochistic appeal and the unique way of domination. You won’t truly hurt him, you’d never do that to him. He’s already trained the idea into you that he’s in control and you’re simply a vehicle for what he wants.
Sigh. Tim is picky about hunting knives particularly. He doesn’t want it any other way.
He’s also fine with doing knifeplay on you but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t prefer it the other way around. It gives him an ego boost that you’d listen to every exact order he’d give, even if that meant cutting him.
- clip point
- trailing point
Brian
He’s using this son of a bitch on you, never the other way around. Usually he just uses it to tease you or graze you just barely and kind of goes quiet in surprise if you ask for more. Brian isn’t grossed out but he is definitely thinking about how he’ll do it before even agreeing.
He’s a killer and you… want to put your trust in him like that? To not just do you in like nothing? It’s crazy to him but it’s not like he isn’t into it.
Brian hopes you don’t notice but he’s actually completely honed in on just how shallow he’s going. He only likes enough of it to make you squirm and flush up, nothing more and nothing less. Honestly he’s almost surgical about it.
Another picky one about blades. He appreciates a certain aesthetic, alright?
- tanto point
- push dagger
Jeff
THE MOST INTO IT. IN MY OPINION. Jeff would absolutely just pull this shit out on you and start dragging it up and down fatty, sensitive areas without any notice. The entire time he’s pointing out how you’re shaking like a scared animal and how he could plunge it in if he really wanted to. He won’t but he’s not going to say that out loud. Gets off on the fear aspect the most, in my opinion.
Jeff is the least hesitant about actually cutting you. Seeing his knife draw blood makes him incredibly horny and is not afraid of showing it. His breath would get heavy and uneven and he’d probably start fingerfucking you then and there with his other hand.
Like Toby, he’s not suuuuper picky but he can’t refuse anything automatic.
A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words
Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)
"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.
"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs.
He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:
"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.
"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.
Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.
"Doll?"
Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"
"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.
"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.
"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.
It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.
Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.
"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.
"Bastard."
…
"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.
"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.
"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.
"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.
"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.
"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.
The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.
"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.
"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"
"With my life."
A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.
"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"
A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.
"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"
"Fuck you."
"Doll," he warns.
"I hate you."
"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."
You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.
"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.
"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.
"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."
He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.
His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.
"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.
He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.
Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.
"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.
The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.
You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.
"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.
You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips
The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.
"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”
"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.
The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"
"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.
"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.
"Get the fuck out!"
"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.
"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.
…
"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.
"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."
"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"
"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.
Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile.
"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.
And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.
From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."
✦Genre: smut [MDNI] - sub!Jeongin x dom!Reader ✦ WC: 1.8k
✦ Summary: You got your hands on the cute church boy.
✦ CW: Blasphemy, corruption kink, oral sex (f & m rec.), knife play [blood], edging, reader is wearing a scream mask, name used: baby, my dear, sweetie
✦A/N: I'm nervous asf to post this. I suppose that this will be my small contribution to kinktober. This is pure blasphemy, you have been warned. I love scream mask fics but I haven't come across one where reader wears the mask so I did this :)) I listened to Sex Concept by Sofia Isella while writing this. Enjoy!+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ Happy Halloween♡
✦Masterlist✦
“Stop teasing, baby, c’mon” Jeongin sat in the front row of the messy pews. The muted sound of rain outside dripping through the cracked ceiling of the church only accentuated the tension pulsing in his veins.
“Teasin’? Me?” You smile, one hand pressed firm against the soaked fabric of his shirt. “You want it that badly?” His eyes find yours but they lack control. His pupils shake with submission while his mouth waters with the remnant taste of your tongue.
“You know I do.” He smiles in a futile attempt to prompt you to take action. You climb into his lap, your fishnets stretching over the thick of your thighs. There’s a sinister grin tugging at the corner of your lips that the mask shields from Jeongin’s view. It was his idea for you to wear it. It was his idea for you to play the villain that his family paints you as while you drain his sanity from him.
“Beg.” You tilt your head, leaning in so close that he can nearly kiss the mask.
“You really want me to beg?” He teases, trying to bite back at you with a smile that you swiftly swipe away when your fingers lock in his damp black strands. “Please.” He moans, falling into your desire.
“Ah, Innie, you can do better than that.” You shift in his lap, your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife in your hand. A dainty little thing, sharper than your tongue.
“Baby, please, do it. I wan’ you to.” You pull his head back further, exposing his neck to you. His adam’s apple bobs, spit pools in his mouth and he swallows it quickly, smoothly. “Use it.”
“Here? In front of all of them?” You point the knife behind you and Jeongin’s eyes follow, landing on the dimly lit statues of figures who would surely judge him for this. The saints watch him, judge him. “You wanna sin, sweetie?” You whisper and he whimpers, a fair exchange.
You run the tip of the knife up his arm oh so softly, he’d miss it if he didn’t want it so badly. His stomach does cartwheels while his fingers claw at the distressed wood beneath him in a desperate attempt to get a grip on something. Anything but himself, he’s a goner.
You bring the point to his shoulder and press in just a bit, just enough to nick that pretty skin you littered with deep purple a few hours ago. “Shit.” He hisses, groaning at the pinch of pain.
“You like this shit, don’t you?” He fights with himself, his fucked up dreams conflicting with his squeaky clean image. He’s a good boy, a man of God and moral actions and blah blah blah. “Tell me.”
“I like it.” He groans, his heavy lids fluttering shut with a trust he should not let you have.
“Thought you were a good boy?” You laugh, the sound muffles behind the mask just a bit but echoes in the empty church. You grind into him ever so slightly, milking an unbecoming sound from his swollen lips. They’re stained red like yours, covered in the color of sin and it matches his skin better than that holy glow ever could.
“I’m not.” He whimpers, trying to convince himself more than you. You let his hair go, allowing him lift his head but he keeps it tilted back, looking up at you like the angel you aren’t. “Please, one more time. Harder, deeper, something.”
“God, you’re pretty when you beg.” You scratch him with the knife, creating a crimson line from the curve of his shoulder down to his bicep. He shivers and groans, the tips of his fingers find your waist and dig in.
“Ah, fuck, b-baby.” He’s putty, melting and stretching before your eyes. The blood starts running down his skin and you watch it. You admire it. So pretty, so pure and all fucking yours. You bring the knife up and catch the droplets and smear it over the silver, watching how it thins and collects.
“This.” You point the knife to him. “Is a sacrifice, my dear.” You feel Jeongin shift under you as he watches you play with the blade. His breath hitches for just a second, one sweet second when you point the knife at him. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”
He nods, hypnotized by the forbidden nature of your actions. Entranced by the girl that his parents warned him about. “Yes... yours.” He breathes with a shake that you don’t miss. Your eyes run over his face, committing his pathetic blush to memory.
You slip the mask up, revealing your pretty face decorated with running mascara and red stained lips. “I am the only God that you will ever believe in.” The look in your eyes could control a crowd but the hopeless wreck of a man beneath you will have to do for now. “Say it.”
You slither down and off of his lap, sinking onto your knees and into a puddle of rainwater that welcomes you with a stinging chill. Jeongin watches you with a reverence that he’s borrowed from every Saturday he sat in bible study worshiping gods who could never excite him how you do.
His inhale is shaky, his exhale is heavy but every word that leaves his mouth is as light as a feather. “You are the only god that I will ever believe in.” His voice trembles with a guilt that’ll have him clutching those pretty blessed beads his momma gave him for a week.
“Again” His belt is already undone for you, his button popped and his cock aching and waiting for your touch. The feeling of your palm massaging his pulsing length has him gasping before he can speak again. “Again, c’mon.”
“You are the only god I’ll ever believe in.” It’s a moan, a profession of his fucked up devotion. His chest is heaving with anticipation as your fingers sneak into his pants like a spider and wrap around his drooling length. “What do we say to that, baby?”
The squeak of the pews as he moves to the edge, holding onto the wood for dear life punctuates each whimpering moan that he lets pass his chapped lips. “H-hallelujah.” That’s it, you lean forward rewarding him for his manners. Your tongue runs up his cock, base to tip and his eyes go white as they roll back. A classic case of possession.
“Again” Your tongue swirls around his drooling tip and he moans, louder this time, “Hallelujah.” You take more of him with each moan, rewarding him for letting you bend his morals into pretty origami animals you’ll rip apart in a week or two.
“God, look at you.” The laugh that vibrates through the air is sinister enough to make Jeongin blush. His weak knees shake and his spine shivers as you jerk his reddened cock. You turn around, smiling at the statues, “Look at him.”
Jeongin, whines, digging the toe of his sneakers into the worn floor as his orgasm climbs up his spine. “You are so fucking…” You stop, taking your hands off of him and making the poor boy cry in protest. “Easy.” It’s quick but you swear that you see a tear fall. He wipes it away, pulling himself together only to fall apart as soon as his gaze meets yours.
“This is a church.” You scoff, feigning disgust. “You’re supposed to be worshiping.” He watches as you rise to your feet before him, his core trembles, his cock jumps. He’s hooked. “Well? Go on.”
Water sloshes beneath your feet, Jeongin barely breathes and you look at him expectantly. There’s not a single word that leaves your mouth but the order is loud and clear. He pushes himself forward. His knees meet the floor and he sinks. Those pretty brown eyes are begging for validation in a den of a dragon. His hands ball in his lap as he fights the urge to wrap his long fingers around his drooling length. The kiss of the cold air makes it jump until you step forward and assume responsibility.
The pew squeaks when you prop your sneaker clad foot up on it. Your soiled panties are on full display under your skirt, peaking through your fishnets and Jeongin swears for a second that you really are God. The brittle beseech of ‘can I’ that he musters up makes you smile fondly. He repeats it when you don’t answer, begging into the damp air.
“Go ahead.” You nudge, handing him the dainty blade. He takes it with trembling hands and cuts the strings to your tights in a messy pattern that grants him access to where you're dripping. He’s entranced by the slick that connects your cunt to the soaked gusset of your panties when he pulls them to the side but he only admires it for a second before his tongue is moving through your folds like a snake in water.
He traces prayers and memorized verses onto your clit, tangling his tongue in spit and arousal so fervently that he almost makes you chant to him. “Right there, right there.” Your fingers grab and tighten in his hair, pushing his firm against you. Your eyes roll back, the demon of desire climbs up your spine and you’re reeling; holding onto the whimpering mess below you to keep your balance.
The taste of you is throwing Jeongin closer to the finish line with each messy swipe of his tongue over your cunt. His grip on the handle of that dainty blade tightens, the tip piercing his thigh with a bite that makes him keen.
“Innie.” The grind of your hips against his tongue makes him drool, it’s a sight to see. You run your hand through your hair and that long forgotten mask falls into a puddle behind you.
Your orgasm shows itself to you in the stars of your pleasure and you welcome it, trembling and moaning loud and wild as you cum all over Jeongin’s tongue. He moans, pressing the tip of the knife just a smidge harder against his skin. He plants sloppy kisses against your clit, helping you ride out your high while his own climax rushes over him. His cock jumps, red and weeping with thick ropes of cum. You pull back, detaching him from your core to watch him wreath against the cold floor; coming undone on his knees in front of the angels while you stand and watch.
“Look at me.” His eyes blink open, his pupils glazed over and glassy. He’s a vision - Lips swollen and slick with your cum, cock twitching and dripping onto the floor. “What do we say?”
He swallows hard, moving his tongue over his lips to collect your taste before he whispers.
“Hallelujah”
Divider made by @rookthornesartistry
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summary ; everybody warned you about this patient, but you wanted to give him a chance as the new little nurse of the asylum. you just have to feed him nothing more, how can it turn bad ? or maybe your deep hidden secret was that you expected this... ? to be alone for some minutes with him.
warnings : dark content. knife play. violence. smut. sick behavior. mentions of threats. asylum place. mean!rafe. oral (m.receiving.). fear enthousiast. mentions of spit. dubcon. manipulation. agressive behavior. choking. size kink. slight of corruption. rafe being a menace as always.minors DNI. be careful with the warnings. maybe some mistakes too, i'm too dumb.
author's note : i wrote this with a big headache so please, it's maybe a little shitty and i'm sorry. this is strongly inspired by the show " ratched " and not the season of ahs. ngl at first, i wanted to make a mildred!reader but with rafe, it's a bit complicated. anyways !
“i don’t think it’s a good idea to send y/n to deal with rafe. she's still new in the asylum....and rafe? you know how he is, it's not a secret. . he could hurt her. ” said the man who worked with you and obviously who had a crush on you. you didn’t know if it was jealousy or a real sign of affection.
you had arrived at the asylum a week ago, and everyone had been nice to you, the patients and the workers. that's why you were very intrigued by rafe, because you knew he had a difficult connection with all the people here, and only a strict set of people could interact with him. you wanted to know more about him so badly because of the mystery around him. and maybe you were curious about what he looked like after what everyone was saying about this guy.
“shut up, man ! i think it’s a very good idea. ” your colleague said, discreetly giving you a knife, with a smile on her face.
“is he that dangerous? ” you replied, raising an eyebrow.
“you’re so innocent, y/n! ”
“i’m not. it's just that i don't understand the use of this knife. there is enough security i think. ”
nevermind, you were definitely ready. you had waited for this day since you arrived here. it was annoying to see everyone treating you like a baby and making you sit there doing nothing or like an intern giving you the worst chores.
“believe me, you’ll need it. it’s an asylum, everyone’s mad, and you know what? this one guy. " she whispered so close to your ear. "he's the worst of all." and she was gone, leaving you with a nice shiver in your stressed body.
you should hate this place, the nightmares and the problems that haunted these walls. but that's exactly what you came for, ever since you were heard that rafe cameron had been interned in this place, you had done everything to be transferred there he had killed an incalculable number of people, without mercy, without remorse, without regrets and what killed all these people, this sentence. this sadness, made you so curious.
how could a man be so cold and cruel? you needed to know it, see it and feel it.
but you finally saw the light. you had hidden the knife in your lace garter underneath your pretty blue nurse uniform. it was quite short, the skirt going up just below your butt, it was as indecent as it was seductive.
you had to go through several back doors, and deal with security. the guard had given you some advice, and asked you to be careful. you replied politely “can you leave me alone with my patient? i wish it were both of us so as not to rush him. you know he's already in a lot of pain, he's very mad. you don't want to make his situation worse, do you? i ask for the respect of his privacy. ” you had convinced him with your devotion, and kind smile. and you had entered the devil's room without really knowing what you were getting yourself into.
“another new girl? ” a deep, masculine voice had said through the bars of a cell, you could hear the ringing of handcuffs.
“you gotta love scaring them away, rafe cameron. ”
“wrong, sweetheart but nice try. i prefer when they stay. it's more fun when they realize they're stuck with me. ”
“do you realize how sick you are, rafe? ” you allowed yourself to be familiar with him while gathering his meal out of the cart to bring to him.
“you’ll be the one to tell me, y/n. after all, that’s what you’re here for. ” he had no shame, no restraint, and you could feel that he was trying to make you lose control, to upset you, to get on your nerves, and to make you crazy. he was just testing you.
“how do you know my first name? ”
“oh i think your boyfriend likes to say your name a lot when he comes to see me. ”
“i don’t have a boyfriend. ”
you approached to finally discover his face. you expected a monster, a misshapen man, a dark creature but it was none of that. he was a boy with a charming face, a neat hairstyle, and magnificent features. he looked so good physically but you also knew that mental illnesses couldn't be seen on someone's face. but it was as if his own beauty romanticized his perfect madness. reconnecting with reality, you glared away.
“open your mouth. ” you ordered.
with such a sick smile, he replied. “ i really love when my little nurses come to feed me. don't make me waste anything. there's nothing i can't eat here. ” he responded while looking at you, his eyes scanning you, from your breasts compressed in your uniform, to the tiny dress who covered your quivering body.
“i can remove your handcuffs if you promise to behave.”
“ what else, sweetheart? you're the boss, here. ”
“promise me. ”
“you really want to trust me? i wouldn't do that in your place. ” you could tell he was clearly having fun with you. that the more you wasted your time, the more he gained.
“promise me. ”
“ promised. ” he responded gently but there was something so wrong, so bad in his voice.
you had undone him from his handcuffs, and he had grabbed you, holding your body harshly against the bar. you felt pain when your back crushed the cold metal. his hand had circled your neck, completely locking it with his fingers.
“sorry sweetheart, i’m really not good at keeping my promises. and i can't keep my hands to myself with such a beautiful girl in my company, that would be disrespectful, don't you think? don't look at me with those eyes, you wished for it. i can even say that you manifested it because i can't believe you're that stupid or maybe you are. but in this case, let me make you even more senseless. ”
you were short of air and rafe had noticed. you wondered if he was going to kill you, but you remembered that he liked to play. in a false movement, you dropped your knife.
“it’s your lucky day! you won't be the only toy in the party, doll. ”
he had removed his hand from your mouth and while you were trying to catch your breath, he had picked up the knife. he had hooked one of your hands to the bars with the handcuffs. there were tears on your cheeks when the object approached your arm.
“you know you would be even prettier if you let me draw a smile on your face? ”
you shook your head to defend him from doing that. you didn’t want him to hurt you, or feel that sharp thing on you.
“can i give you a new haircut then? wouldn't you like to have shorter hair? don't make those eyes, this knife must be useful to us. your body is betraying you, you should hate it for giving me so many bad ideas. ”
he had cut the buttons of your dress with the knife, revealing your bra with the smooth, shiny surface. “ such a gorgeous thing with pretty parts. he had dragged your uniform to the floor. “you have pretty eyes, too bad they hate me so much. ”
you turned your head when he tried to lick your face, but he didn’t like it. he had violently grabbed your jaw, slamming it against the metal iron, and forcing you to look at him. “i really tried to be nice....ok no, maybe i'm lying, i never tried to be nice to you but i was patient. and now i’m pissed. and guess who's going to have to fix it?”
he licked the side of your cheek, before biting the corner of your mouth, his teeth sunk in your bottom lip. while he sucked his favorite part of your face, he slided his tongue in you, making a rough contact with your throat, his saliva mixed with yours. you moaned against him, freaking out when a bead of blood came out in your widen drippin slit. “ swallow it, sweetheart. 's not gonna kill you. ”. he kissed you intensely, forcing you to swallow the blood and the spit that dropped in your moth, his hand around your hips, pressing his fingers into your skin. he loved to watch the fear in your glossy eyes, watching the fall of your boundaries because of him. you were so nervous, shaking with tense.
“ get on your fucking knees, doll. do something good for me, only once in your fucking useless life.”
surely because of his firm tone and his temperament but above all because of the knife at your throat that threatened you, you had listened to him. you were facing his boner. “i think you’ve already done that. you just have to do it again with me. ” with a speed that had terrified you, he had squeezed your cheeks in his hand, digging them with his fingers. “be careful, sweetheart. i'm not as nice as your boyfriend, dare to put your teeth in, even if it's just a molar, and i can promise you that i would also allow myself to damage you. so, if you want to keep that face intact, you know what you have to do. ”
“ you hurt me!”
“yes, and i love it, doll. the more you complain, the more i will do it.”
suddenly tired of your stupidities, he forced your hands to unzip his pants, and remove his boxers. he was huge. not your usual type. he had opened your mouth which you refused to open with the knife. “try to bite me, and it will be worse. ”
he had pushed his hard cock into your mouth, and without waiting, started making you suck. his large cock occupied your tongue, you breathed hard as he shoved every inch deep, his hand was wrapped around your hair in a brutal grip, tugging fiercely every time you tried to take a break. but the rythm was unbearable, his slippery leaking tip was hitting the back of your throat, and his bulge seemed to grow every time you took him in your mouth. you could feel the drool dripping around his cock, the way your saliva pooled. your lips were swollen and wet, completely abused. his balls sopping wet with your spittle, lazily slapping in a pornographic sound. your mascara was running, your eyes were twinkling.
you could hear him enjoying the show of your downfall because he was the only master of it, his grunts becoming one of the sounds in the room, along with your muffled cries, the smack of his balls in the air, the dull buzzing in your head. everything was happening so fast. “stop. ” he had removed his fat length from your mouth, pressed the tip against your tears before making you suck again. “is my dick better with your flavor, sweetheart? ” you didn’t know if you really hated him. the thing that disgusted you about him, this madness, this attitude, also excited you. you felt strongly giddy.
your panties were immerged, the wetness flowed between your thighs. “ you're supposed to take care of me, but it looks like you need someone to take care of you. ”
you sucked back and forth, your tongue rolled on his big girth. he was painfully hard, and your throat started to hurts. he pushed himself deeper in your mouth, smirking everytime you were about to pass out. when he had finally had enough, he pulled back, taking his penis in his hands, you had chased the trickle of drool between the two of you and sniffling. your cheeks were wet with tears and saliva, everything was mixed in a mess. “ look like your sick patient is feeding you, how do you feel about this, little nurse ? what about your job ? too bad, there are no cameras here, but also pretty lucky for the two of us, nobody can disturb. but soon, the guard security’s gonna check on you because they care a lot about your safety. but i'm curious now, what they will think if they found you without your uniform, but mostly, what will they think about me inside their favorite little nurse ? especially, your sweet boyfriend. it would be so disappointed to see the one he love is not interested because she prefered to be fucked by his ennemy. seems like, you can hurt a lot of people too, sweetheart. ”
you understood why he was locked up differently from the others. he was so manipulative. but also aggressive. he had torn your underwear with the knife. you shivered as you felt the cold metal surface on your skin. you were literally scared, your pulse had accelerated, your breathing too. you weren't a fan of knives but the problem was that the more afraid you were, the more you motivated him to want to hurt you.
“relax” he had said as he placed the knife back against your collarbones, pressing it against your bone. then slided it down your neck, the metal tip lightly stinging your skin. “you know i can’t kill you, doll. i can only torture you. “
that didn't reassure you at all, you preferred that he killed you. as if he had read your mind, he replied. “you should be more scared of what i can do to you than what the knife could. i will hurt you better. ”
he had moved the knife to your stomach, then to your wet pussy. “there’s more than just fear from what i see. and you can't deny it. " he continued, sliding the sharp object at your entrance.
“ please, rafe ! not in…i-i-i-m begging you ! ”
“ you beg ? so sweet. but do you know what ? i don't care, honey. ”
“ you…i'm sure…i mean, you're not that sick ! please…”
“ if you say please once again, i'm pretty sure i can cum between your legs. ”
the tip of his knife had caressed the inside of your sloppy cunt. “don’t worry, i won’t go any further. ” he withdrew the knife, and licked the blade. “i fear, everything is sweet about you, pretty nurse. now, spread those legs for me. ”
“we can't do that, the guard is right next door! he can hear everything and imagine if he comes” you started to panic. with a mocking tone, he replied “for the time, i can handle it but for the noise, it's on you, sweetheart. do you think you can do that ? don't answer, i don't fucking care at all because i will fuck you in any case. ”
“you shouldn't do that, it's really bad, you might regret it! ” you tried to stop him, but the knife hit your throat. “don't try to escape something that's going to happen, it's a waste of time. and i hate it. ” he lost his patience and opened your legs with one hand, she was big and strong enough to control you on her own. he had slightly moistened his cock before going inside of you.
“ one move, one scream or one fucking bite and i will rip your throat, got it ? ”
you nodded, and his thrusts started to get rougher, he pounded you deep in your stupid little cunt, hitting the spot with no mercy. you wanted to shout but the knife was clearly too close to do anything stupid. you bitten your own lips, a drop of blood dripped in your mouth. he smacked your ass a couple of times to the point you felt the bruises and the pain quickly. his teeth were on your shoulder, leaving marks. it was painful, but you don't wanted to be a crybaby. you held back your tears, while he crushed you against the metal.
he stretched you to your limits and you barely held back a cry. he smiled before covering your mouth with your underwear. his body was sweaty, you could see the sweat sheen his body. your body slammed against his, and against the bar. he had pushed your thong between your lips but also his fingers which you sucked with enormous devotion, you licked every inch of his skin, you covered them with drool, you made them completely soaked. he eventually added a lot of his spit. you must have looked like nothing at all. you were even less credible in your role of nurse. he was no more groans as he reached your first orgasm, but more desperate whispers, quick back and forth in your uncontrollably leaked swollen cunt, as his eyes were all over your face. his dick was harder because of seeing you with his fingers and your panties stuffing perfectly your slutty mouth.
he lifted up your leg to watch himself getting buried inside your walls. “ i'm afraid that now you can't deny that this pussy is mine. ” he said, removing your thong from your mouth.
“ i'm not y-yours...rafe ! ”
“ i fear it will be against your will then, sweetheart because your fucking cunt really like me. ”
he grabbed your face, forced you to look at your messy part. “ still deny, fucking slut ? you really want me to pull that knife inside. ”
again, you shook your head.
“say it. you know your words. ”
“this pussy is yours, only yours! ”
he plowed you for a long moment, and you can't even think anymore. you were too dumb, too dizzy. your head spinned, and your body only moved because of him pounding retlessenly. you squirted a lot, you splashed a little on him but it was nothing unlike him. when he came, it had gushed into your pussy, the thick and white loads filled you, while his sweaty and heavy balls emptied inside you.
“ sweetheart, you're really my favorite nurse. don't forget to tell the director how mean i was to you. ”
“ why did you cum in me ? ”
“ for any inconveniences, you can tell the director. she will be glad to know how i fuck all her little nurses. and you're not an exception. ”
“ what if i'm pregnant ? ”
“ you're so naive. pregnant or not, nobody's gonna forgive you for that sin. ”
“ i'm leaving. ”
“ don't forget the knife, you know how to play with it now. ”
“ i hope you will stay here forever.”
“ you can pray for it, sweetheart but i fear god doesn't listen to sinners. ”
i wanted to tysm @dark-fics-4-you and @bunnyrafe for helped me with this one. <333
