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Bio: My name is Ina, I write a lot but hardly put my ideas into actual fics, so keep your hopes low and expectations lower. I am 19, and use She/Her pronouns. Alt POC :))
Mainly, what you can expect from me is Jack O'Connell related media, though I am an avid fan of:
I listen to an ass ton of music daily, so everything I post will have some direct/indirect reference to lyrics/songs/albums. I love to yap. Dats all <3
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Summary: You're the sole survivor of your group, left restrained, suspended, and at the mercy of the Jimmies. Your friends suffered a gruesome fate the crazed group called 'charity' and now it's your turn. Only Sir Lord Jimmy has a different kind of charity in mind for you, one he'll deal himself.
WC: 5.5k
Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18 + ONLY. Dead Dove. Non/Dub-Con. Mentions of gore, blood, torture, and skinning. Forced Sex and Breeding. Exhibitionism (all the Jimmies are adults). Knife Play. Fingering. Squirting. Overstimulation. Nipple Play. Bondage. Dom/Sub dynamic. Rough Sex. Unprotected P in V. Spanking. Hair Pulling. Breeding. Religious/Satanist Themes.
A/N: This has taken me months to write through writer's block and life lifing, but it's finally done. Please heed the warnings before continuing. GIF is mine.
The smell of copper permeates the damp air of the shed, mixing with the earthy scents of soil and herbs, ones you'd collected just earlier that day. Blood and discarded flesh surround you and even with your eyes closed, the images are burned into your retinas, the smell stinging your nostrils, the sound of their cries growing quieter and fatigued with every strip of skin torn from their bodies, the sounds of your assailant's laughter joining and eventually, the repulsion ejecting from their stomachs.
Your own sobs have quieted though fear still rages, coursing through your body that twitches and trembles with every footstep that draws near. Still, you are left untouched, forced to bear witness to the torture and slow deaths of the people you've shared your daily life with for months.
The muscles in your arms ache and there's a now dull burning in your wrists where the rope has dug in, tied to the beams above. Countless tears have made your eyes grow swollen and red, nose congested and making every breath a choked sob in your lungs. You wonder when it'll be your turn, every nerve in your body on edge in anticipation.
Why haven't they touched you yet?
Do they truly seek to torture you most of all by witnessing the others before they finally turn their blades onto you?
A heavy silence hangs in the space, so thick and palpable it raises the hairs on the back of your neck.
"Howzat?" A single voice asks casually, carrying all the cockiness and power only the leader of such a twisted group could. You don't need to open your eyes to know it's him. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, he called himself. Clad in a pristine purple tracksuit and excessive gold jewelry, his followers quickly recite the phrase back in an exhausted chorus.
There's a soft shuffle of fabric and then footsteps, each one drawing closer to and you tense up instinctively, breath catching in preparation for the onslaught of pain. Only it doesn't come. The steps stall, coming to a halt before you. His presence is unmistakable, consuming the space around you, but you don't dare open your eyes to truly face him.
"And then there was one." Sir Jimmy remarks, eyes trailing over your shaking form in satisfaction, huffing out an amused chuckle at the way your eyes remain squeezed shut almost defiantly.
"Old Nick sees potential in youโฆ" His form circles yours, a predator surveying their prey. "He says our fingers should grow, and you may yet be oneโฆ if you have what it takes."
Fresh tears break past the rim of your closed eyes with a muffled sob from the fresh wave of fear his words and closeness bring you. They slip down your cheeks, wet and warm to join the leftover stains of your earlier bouts of anguish.
Jimmy, however, seems to quickly lose patience. His body is back in front of yours instantly, ring clad fingers grabbing onto your chin with a firm, chastising grip.
"Focus." The fingers from his free hand snap close to your ears, making you jerk away instinctively though his grip and the ropes keep you in place. "Open your eyes before I gouge them out and make you choke on them."
A sharp, stuttering inhale passes through your nostrils in a weak attempt to gather courage, but you gather it none the less, swollen and tired eyes slowly fluttering open. A few blinks and your once blurry vision comes into focus, with his face as the first thing you see.
Up close, you can see the lines etched along his forehead from years traversing and terrorizing the land along with the infected. The flush of his skin, tinted red from being out in the sun unprotected. The blue of his eyes are bright, eccentric, and yet hold a deranged kind of light fitting of his actions. He seems pleased by your compliance, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
"Ahh, and what a shame that would beโฆ so pretty." A chill runs down your spine while a rotten teeth flashing grin spreads across Jimmy's face.
Now with your full attention, the warmth of his fingers leaves your skin and settles on his own jaw as he backs away, surveying your restrained form.
"But, before you can become a fingerโฆ you have to pass the test."
Your eyes shift from Jimmy to the source of a sudden movement, one of his followers rising off the nearby bench as if standing at the ready, cleaning off his bloodied knife, Moira's blood, with a worn cloth in preparation.
"No no no, Jimmy." he placates the member with a raised hand. "Old Nick has another kind of charity in store for this one." One of his thick fingers points toward you, bobbing up and down with the words full of an unknown, terrifying promise. "And he wants me to deliver it myself."
His presence is so captivating you barely notice the confused, bewildered expressions of the Jimmies, even obscured under their makeshift masks, they look at each other in unexpected surprise. It only fills you with more unease and dread, the feeling clawing its way up your spine with each step Jimmy takes closer until you can feel his breath against your skin, slick with sweat and tears.
A silver gleam catches your eye and you notice a small knife within Sir Lord Jimmy's hand, pulled from the waistband of his tracksuit. Your back grows rigid as it taunts you, blood running cold through your veins as you're face to face with whatever torture awaits, and its executioner.
Despite anticipating it's touch, the feeling of the cool metal against your skin makes you flinch with a sharp inhale, a response that only goads him on more. The tip of the blade teases the burning skin of your cheek, pressing just hard enough to not quite break skin but with the threat of it lingering before it trails down to your neck in a cruel caress. A lump lodges in your throat with it, breaths growing fast and heavy while Jimmy takes his time, soaking in every reaction of the blade gliding further down and over your chest until catching on the loose collar of your shirt.
Your gaze follows his and the movement of the blade as it stills, only to glance up to his pursed lips. "Tsk tsk tsk" the sound of his tongue clicks behind them, and you find yourself ashamedly fixating on the supple pink flesh. "You won't be needing this."
A flick of the wrist sends a button flying, lost in the dirt beneath. Fresh air hits the newly exposed sweat slick skin, goosebumps rising with it. Another button clatters. Jimmy moves with an uneasy calm, taking his time to unwrap a present until your shirt falls completely open, nipples growing hard at the vulnerability and cool air.
"Oh, Old Nick was right to save you for lastโฆ" Jimmy's voice comes out lower, almost as a snicker while his eyes transfix on your bare, fluttering chest. The tip of his knife traverses the curve of fat until finding your hard, sensitive bud standing at attention for him. As if your body knows he's your lord, even if your mind hasn't quite caught up yet.
You don't realize you're holding your breath until it floods out in a sharp gasp, the tip of the blade teasingly flicking your nipple. He smiles at your whimpers, free hand gripping the back of your head as your body tries to flinch away.
"Shhh, not to worry, lass." Your reddened eyes lock onto his and a sick anticipation fills your bones with it. Sick and warm, tingling up your thighs. Shame turns in your gut with it, with the way all you can focus on is him and the new flicker of pressure between your thighs.
The raw flesh sitting in small piles around you and the fellow Jimmies behind him begin to fade into the background in a blur.
"In fact, I think you might even enjoy it." You hadn't even noticed the blade moving down your stomach until it's notching against the waistband of your pants, teasingly pressing against the tensioned band until the tear of fabric fills the dead silent barn.
The now loosened piece of clothing begins to fall, leaving you completely bare before him. You don't have the strength to look down at your naked and vulnerable form, at the way your thighs tremble. Whether from fatigue or humiliation or a twisted arousal, you don't want to acknowledge. You can only look at his face taking all of you in, lips parted in a unreadable expression that you can only hope holds a plan that doesn't end in a torturous death.
When his now intense gaze meets yours again with a tightened grip on the back of your head, a heavy gulp slides down your throat. "Do you want me to touch you?" His words are low and thick, nearly breathy while the cool metal of his knife meets the inside of your warm, shaking thigh. It slowly begins to trail upward to where a pressure is rapidly building.
He watches you, transfixed to every flutter of emotion passing through your wet eyes, to every stuttering breath, to the way your thighs strain under the impulse to squeeze them shut.
The headiness of his voice, the intensity of his blue eyes, and the anticipation of his wandering touch sets off a war of emotion and raw desire within you. Your consciousness begins to lose grip on the reality of the situation, of the sick depravity having already occurred and the real danger you lie within the face of while an electric, primal, and gnawing need pulses in your cunt, taking over all rational sense of mind.
A tightened grip and harsh tug sends your head jerking back before you feel his hot breath against your ear, lips brushing the skin with his words full of dwindling restraint. "Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal does not repeat himself, lass."
The threat and sudden stillness of the blade against the soft skin of your inner thigh is all you need. "Yes, Sir." The mutter of compliance comes out between heavy and fast breaths, the fear lodged into your spine heightening once again.
A beat of silence passes and you're sure you've fucked it all up, that any silly glimmer of hope you had of mercy is gone with the fear of what he might do with that knife, so close to your most intimate place. You wait, bracing for the impact of searing pain from the blade before it's pressure against your thigh dissapears completely.
You're sure he's toying with you, waiting for your defenses to drop just before catching you off guard again. Only the pain of a cut or slice doesn't come. Instead, the warmth of skin passes over your folds and sends a shock of pleasure through your restrained and suspended form, body jerking and back arching in response.
A hearty and cruel chuckle meets your shaky gasp, the tight grip on your hair keeping you in place from squirming away as his fingers press more firmly against your slit.
"Oh ho ho," his rotten teeth flash your way with a sick glee. "Looks like your wee cunt was crying for me too."
A fresh wave of embarrassment hits you and replaces the lingering fear, eyes squeezing shut as they threaten to fill to brim with fresh tears, thighs attempting to clasp around his wandering hand. Only the flat of his palm slaps your pussy, harsh and chastising, yanking you back in line with a yelping whimper.
"Ah ah, you were doing so well." His voice holds a sickly sweet tone of taunting encouragement. "You wouldn't want to disappoint Old Nick now, would you?"
This is a different kind of torturous torment, the scratchy rope digging in and rubbing your wrists raw as your limbs start to feel more like lead than flesh with each passing minute. A dizzying mix of arousal and repulsion swarming your head, body yearning to lean in to pleasure yet shrivel away in disgust.
His hand remains unmoving, cupping your sex before you realize he's waiting on an answer, on obedience. The realization hits like a wave that if you want to hang on to any chance of your survival tonight, obedience is what you'll need to give.
A sniffle with a deep inhale. "No, Sir Jimmy." The words scratch along your throat, dry from screams and sobs. With a few flutter of your lashes, the vision of him clears before you once more, waiting and studying you with an amused awe glimmering in his blue eyes.
"Good."
Not a second is spared before his thick fingers are moving again, working your sensitive bud with short and slow strokes, working you open for him until you're practically begging for more just like he knows you will. Your teeth clench and grit, attempting to hold back any whimpers his touch draws from your throat.
You don't dare look away from him again, and his face is a better target than the gore surrounding you. In fact, as you focus in on the intensity of his eyes, on the intoxicating caress of your clit, awareness of the surroundings fades entirely.
There's a twisted yet boyish charm about him that begins to consume you, in the soft sway of his golden locks with each brush, in the way his pink lips are parted with increasingly heavy breaths passing through.
They mimic the flow of yours, barely stifled by your pursed lips that tremble in time with your thighs. Jimmy is fixated on every response your body gives, the warmth that spreads against his hand with the rushing of your blood, clit pulsing and swelling against his touch, watching you unravel for him despite yourself.
In a split second his touch slips, dipping lower to curl his digits into your slick cunt. The unexpected intrusion catches you off guard, stubborn resistance slipping with your jaw going slack and a gasping moan bursting out. A throaty chuckle rumbles from his chest in amusement, your wet warmth coating his fingers.
The pads of his fingers press into the spongy spot along your wet walls that knocks the breath from your lungs, knees buckling beneath but the ropes around your wrists holds you in place. The grip on your hair loosens, free hand falling to grasp onto the fat of your ass to restrain you even further before his fingers begin a relentless pace.
The velour of his tracksuit presses against the bare, flushed skin of your side, body heat radiating into yours. There's no escape from him, from the stroke of his two digits against your walls. The pleasure quickly drowns out any shame that could arise from the wet sound that spreads from where your bodies meet.
"F-fuckโฆ" A low whimper slips from your lips as each pass of his fingers adds to the growing pressure building with the incessant prodding of your g-spot. You're entirely helpless and at the crazed leader's mercy, but the thought seems to only add to your arousal.
"Tha's itโฆ" There's a breathlessness to his voice and words mumbled against your ear, feeling the frantic pulsing of your walls around him. The juices leaking from your cunt spread down his hand, coating the rings that press into your flesh.
Any grip on reality you have left is quickly fleeting, unable to control the way your body and mind are giving in so easily to your basic animal impulses. The moans fall freely from your open lips, growing higher in pitch with the intensity of the pressure building in your core, a wave threatening to crash over with just a littleโฆ push.
Your head falls back with a strained squeal as the dam breaks, cunt gushing against his still plunging fingers. The obnoxious sound is drowned out from your ringing ears, hips rocking with every rhythmic clench of your cunt.
"Oh!" Jimmy exclaims, watching your pussy squirt and body writhe with a gleeful satisfaction. Only when your breaths calm do his fingers slip from inside you to instead spread the wetness along your slit.
"Look at the mess you made." The touch dissapears from your sex only to lift to your line of sight. The jewelry adorning his fingers shines even brighter under the lights with your juices coating them. "Now, be a good lass and clean up after your self."
There's no pause for an answer before the pads of his fingers swipe along your bottom lip, coaxing them open to slide along your tongue. Lost in the ecstasy still buzzing throughout your body, you hum softly at the taste of yourself, lips wrapping around the metal rings to gently suck the slick covering his fingers. The sweet tangy taste of your cunt spreads along your taste buds and his blue eyes watch with content.
"See? Charity's not so bad, aye?" His head tilts, eyes watching every flutter of your lashes and the way your lips purse, feeling the brush of your tongue.
"No, Sir." The obedient mumble leaves your lips just as the string of saliva attaching them to his fingers breaks.
A pleased hum meets you in response, "then surely you can handle another."
The return of his fingers into your sensitive pussy spurs a jolt in your limbs, tensing from the intensity still pulsing in your core. They curl just right, wasting no time to mercilessly rub that spot that feels like it's on fire, electric and liquid, spreading and burning you up from the inside. Each pass rips a cry straight from your lungs, thighs trembling from fighting the impulse to clasp around his hand.
The metal of his rings dig into the flesh of your ass with a tightening grip, but it's nothing in comparison to the sensation of his fingers, building up another tidal wave before the last one has fully waded. He watches the ragged breaths move through your heaving chest, catching in your throat with each curl of his digits.
Sweat beads on your skin, the velour of his suit clinging to you just as the warmth of his breath does, panting against your neck.
"Please, lord!" You're babbling and stuttering, the pathetic whine the only thing you can muster out. The thrusting of his fingers drains whatever power is left from your body, held within his hands like a toy, pliant and oh so responsive.
"You beg so sweetly, lass." The mocking and gravelly edge in his voice infiltrates your entire body with a toe-curling jolt, eyes rolling back at the sound. The toes of your boots dig into the sweat, slick, and blood splattered dirt below, the only thing keeping your body grounded and steady aside from the restraints burning your wrists and his remaining grip on your ass.
The sudden wet glide of his tongue, tasting the salt of the sweat and tears coating your jawline sends you unraveling again with a shout, entire body tensing and convulsing under the weight of the ecstasy his well kept hands rip from it. The sight of your juices squirting out of your greedy cunt, soaking his hand and the soil below captivates him entirely, fills every fiber of his body with a prideful fascination.
The sound of your sweet cries, the way your body shakes and trembles under his touch makes him ache painfully, you can feel it pressing incessantly against your thigh, begging for attention. He watches your soft and flushed flesh jerk and jolt while his fingers torture your swollen clit, rubbing loose circles around it as the last of your juices drip from your pussy.
The breaths sucked into your lungs feel raw and ragged, electricity buzzing through your limbs with the fading high that leaves a nearly overwhelming sensitivity in its wake. A sensitivity Jimmy either cares less about or is intentionally taking advantage of to push you to your limits. You can barely make out his form through tear blurred vision, half-lidded with exhaustion.
"Hmmโฆ" Jimmy pauses and hums thoughtfully, "no, not enough. He demands more."
The words barely register before the moving touch of his fingers returning to your sore cunt does, letting out a pathetic whine in protest. "P-please, I can't!"
The tears glistening in your pleading eyes only serves to arouse him even more, earning the chastising click of his tongue. "Oh, but you can. And you will." His thick fingers slide back in to caress your sensitive walls, finding that spongy spot with ease like the back of his hand. "He's watching."
The curl of his digits hits like a white hot branding, walls clasping down around him instinctively at the nearly unbearable intensity. Tears fall freely, choked sobs bubbling up your throat with the strokes of his fingers. The erratic rolling of your hips does little to lighten the weight of his touch, forcing you to take the excruciating intensity of his touch against your overstimulated pussy.
"Your cries are Old Nick's delight." Jimmy purrs against the shell of your ear, sending a wave of tingles that cascade down your body. Your pussy is gripping him so tight he can barely move his hand, only rocking his curled fingers against your bruised g-spot faster and faster. You're not even sure how much you have left to give, but feel that pressure building once again, growing until you're sure you'll burst at any second.
It's not long before that dam breaks again with one last flick of his wrist, now drenched and slick with the cum that readily seeps from your weeping cunt. The shouts and cries that mark your orgasm echo off the wooden walls of the barn, a scream far different from the ones that'd inhabited the space earlier. Your walls pulse in protest at the loss of his touch, fingers ripped away before Jimmy takes a few steps back and watches the climax course through your body.
His blue eyes follow the way your entire body collapses, unable to hold yourself up any longer under the weight of overstimulated pleasure that shakes through you. The rope scarring your wrists is the only thing keeping your form suspended over the dirt below. He admires the way your flesh shakes, thighs wobbling and streaked with your slick. The sheen of sweat covering your skin glistens under the light, nipples hard against the cool air, eyes swollen from the endless stream of tears. You're a beauty.
You're the one.
Your head lulls to the side in exhaustion, propped against your arm to keep it from hanging. The rampant flurry of emotions and sensations that have raged through your body in the last hour leaves you near oblivious to the surroundings, until a shushing sound beckons your attention.
Despite the lack of noise now filling the space, he silences it anyway with a raised and pointed finger, eyes closing with a cock of his head, the soft whish of those blond curls with it. It appears as if he's listening intently, something calling out and whispering dark scripture into his ears.
Then, a wide smile splits his face, rotten teeth peeking through that reflect the nature of his next words.
"Yes, Old Nick is pleased with you." Jimmy chuckles and a tension you forgot was held within your shoulders eases and goes slack with the rest of your tired body. "He deems you worthy."
His arms cross and his body shifts, standing directly ahead to admire your form. The beat of silence that passes begins to fill with unease, slowly swirling in the pit of your stomach.
"But not as an ordinary Jimmy, no no no." Your gaze falls onto his shoes as they begin to scuff along the dirt floor, taking leisure steps closer. "He has far bigger plans for you."
Fingers still damp from your slick softly brush away the sweat drenched strands of hair sticking to your face away, tucking them behind your ear almost gently. A tenderness you can't fully trust, before slipping down to outline the frame of your face.
"You're special, aye. Deserving of a special and infernal mission from our Father."
Just when the touch begins to feel too good to distrust, it retreats and him with it, returning to circle you like prey. Your entire body aches, muscles stretched and worn from being restrained for too long but you muster what little strength remains, settling your feet back flat on the ground to hold yourself up again. Pain radiates everywhere, from your thighs to your lower back, to your biceps and burning wrists.
"Old Nick commands for our strength, our claws, our kingdomโฆ to grow." Jimmy's voice projects his preaching to the whole room, to the onlookers you'd forgotten were even there and the reminder sends a fresh wave of embarrassment to join the heat flushing your skin.
"And youโฆ" Your body jerks slightly at the sudden touch of his fingers slowly trailing down the curve of your spine. "Are his chosen vessel. He has ordered me, his favorite son, to plant the seed of our future fingers, of our unholy lineage..."
The soft fabric of his velour suit presses fully against your back with an unmistakable hard outline against your ass. Both hands move to tickle down your sides, sending a cold wave of shivers with it until they come to rest on your hips.
The warmth of his breath inches closer to your ear. "You will be bestowed the greatest honor Old Nick has to offer. My bride. My vessel to breed and birth our sons of Hell."
Hot flesh now presses against your lower back and you can't help the way your walls clench in anticipation. There's no going back now, no fighting it, and it's a far better fate than a torturous death, right?
Ringed fingers curling around the base of his cock shift him, angling the swollen head to dive between your lips as the other maneuvers you, guiding your ass back and spine arched to meet the final act of tonight's charity. He doesn't give it to you right away, opting instead to drag out the anticipation further with his tip slowly parting your lips and gliding back and forth. Your slick coats his shaft, each nudge against your overstimulated clit sending a tremble down your thighs.
He teases until your cunt is practically begging for it, drooling and pulsing with a deep seated need to be stretched and filled and even then, he holds out further. "Is that what you want, lass? You want me to fuck and breed you till you can no longer think straight, is that it?"
Your entire body reacts with a twitch, leaning back into him and answering before your lips can, earning a shaky chuckle under his breath in response.
"Yesโฆ Sir Lord Jimmy." The desperate words come out as a plea, squeaking out from your hoarse, dry throat.
The truth is Jimmy can barely hold himself back any longer if he wanted to and your words of submission act as the firing shot at a race, one shift of his hips notching the head at the entrance of your fluttering cunt before sinking in, slow and steady. You gasp at the intrusion and lack of time to adjust as each thick inch stretches your sensitive walls far more than his fingers did, filling them with a deep, toe-curling ache. It knocks the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping once he's fully seated inside and unmoving, his blue eyes nearly rolling back as he relishes in the way your wet, hot heat envelops him.
You brace for impact, expecting a ruthless onslaught right away but it doesn't come. Not yet at least. Those golden curls graze your shoulder, hot breaths tickling your ear just as his warm hands latch onto your waist before sliding higher and higher, until they're cupping the weight of your bare breasts. His thick digits squeeze and fondle them, the cool metal of his rings a relief against your blazing skin.
A gasp leaves your throat when his hips rock while still balls deep, burrowing himself even deeper when his fingers pinch and roll your hard nipples between them mercilessly. Jimmy loves the way it makes your cunt clench around him, the little high-pitched whimper muffled through your lips. "Yesss. You'll make a perfect wee bride of Satan, won't you?"
Your walls feel stretched to their limits, throbbing with the sweetest pain you've ever felt, so consuming that your head feels light. "Yes, Sir Lord!" There's a tension held tight within your entire body, waiting and begging for the overwhelming glide of his cock using your cunt for all it's worth.
Seemingly satisfied with your answer, your pussy begins to feel empty with the retreat of his cock, only for a sharp thrust of his hips to collide with your ass, sending a wailing cry past your lips and body jerking forward from the force. His hands quickly return to your hips to steady you as he sets a relentless pace, holding you in place to take the brunt of every long and hard thrust, forcing you to take every thick inch over and over again.
Debauched screams and moans echo off the wooden walls, filling the space along with the sound of his hips slapping your ass. Your sore, fluttering walls can barely keep up with the rapid pistoning of his girth, the swollen tip of his dick already beginning to bruise your cervix. He's using you like a personal fuck toy with no choice but to take it and god, it's appalling and yet so arousing that you can't even muster feeling ashamed about it. You're completely lost.
Your cunt weeps for him just as your eyes do, tears streaking down your warm cheeks and juices coating his length. Your tits bounce in a way that feels obnoxious and obscene, moving in sync with the speed of his thrusts, the heavy weight of his balls slapping your clit with it.
"Fuck, your cunt really was made for this, wasn't it? She's gripping me so tight, lass." Jimmy groans, voice low and strained, a sharp slap joining it with a stinging pain radiating across your jiggling ass. The throaty whine you let out in response makes his cock jerk inside you.
"Yes! Fuck, yes! S-so good, Sir!" You're babbling desperately, voice wavering with the brutal pounding, practically drunk off the pleasure and pain.
"Look at you," A hand leaves your hip to grasp your hair, wrapping around and tugging to pull your head back with it. "So pretty and dumb off this cock already?"
The cries and moans scratch along your dry throat, growing strained against the relentless, toe-curling stroking of his girth along your sensitive walls. Every muscle in your body grows tense and coiled, electricity tingling through every inch of your body. It grows so intense your eyes roll back, slick dripping onto his balls, the pressure building in your core becoming unbearable.
"Tell me you want it." Jimmy huffs, so close to letting go completely, delivering another slap that'll leave a mark onto the meat of your ass.
"Please! Oh! I want it, want your cum!" He loves how utterly obedient and devoted you already are, so desperate to fulfill your newly appointed role that it makes his heavy balls draw up tight, threatening to spill over.
Another thrust is all it takes to send the tidal wave crashing over with a scream, pure ecstasy spreading over your entire body just as your cunt clamps around him, soaking his entire length with your cum. The vice grip of your velvety, fluttering walls sends him over the edge with a guttural shout that spirals into a string of whimpering moans, ropes of his hot seed spilling past your cervix and flooding your womb. He grinds himself even deeper, making sure it takes root to breed your eager cunt.
He remains there buried deep, forehead pressed against your shoulder until the the last of his cum is emptied inside you, heavy breaths beginning to even out. Once the last waves of pleasure begin to fade and his softening cock pulls out of your abused pussy, the weight of exhaustion hits and aches throughout your entire body, evidence of the tiring ordeal.
Tucking himself back in to the no doubt now ruined velour tracksuit pants, Jimmy takes a moment to admire his work with a tired but satisfied smirk, watching the slight tremble of your muscles, his milky seed dripping out of your raw cunt. Your half-lidded eyes are too heavy and dazed to notice.
A beat passes before his voice rings out. "Cut her down." Then, the soft shuffle of a few feet and fabric along with the nearly tear-jerking anticipation of relief. "She's not going anywhere."
AN: This was just a little brain worm I got; I can't remember the account who inspired me but if I come across it again, I will be sure to tag it. I listened to Kinky Love by Pale Saints while I was writing this and originally I'd decided against releasing it before the rest of my Fics but I changed my mind ;).
Jimmima had gotten cocky during charity and ended up decked in the face. She took it with a smile on her face, but she was also half the dude's size. "If ye stopped doin' that stupid fuckin' dance, maybe they wouldn't be so eager to knock ye on yer arse." She spoke bluntly, like she didn't care in the slightest. Had Jimmy not told her to patch Jimmima up, she would've been far from the girl. The animosity was clear, though the air was tense long before her comment. "Ye've got problem with me, or somethin'? He got a cheap shot, nothin' to do with the dance."
"It's got everything to do with the fucking dance. Yer buzzin' around, shakin' yer ass like a fuckin' mutt." Ink chuckled to herself, the tone of it coming off as condescending. "Yeah, I bet that's why Sir Lord Jimmy likes ye so much." Her saying that cut surprisingly deep, the growing pain in her chest unexplainable. Not that it crossed Jimmima's mind very much, but they were the only two female fingers, and the subconscious sense of fellowship was breaking with each nasty word. Ink's eyes narrowed at her, skeptical of her lack of response. "Yer just jealous, Ink, 'cause he likes me more than you."
"He, who? Sir Lord Jimmy or... Shite?" Ink laughed dryly, happy to call the girl out on something she'd been stewing on for months. Everyone knew exactly what her and Shite were sneaking off to do, having kept it to themselves for fear that it'd cause a fight. "That's none o' your fuckin' business." Jimmima snapped, pointing her finger. Ink had hit a nerve, and she liked that. "Oh hop off it, ye cunt. What else would ye be doin' 'alone' for five minutes? Hah, y'must really like 'im because I guarantee that knobhead isn't makin' ye cum going that fast."
"He is." She lied, instantly hit with the shame of Ink's oppressive glare. She never really was good at hiding her facial expression, her incredulous stare went right through Jimmima. Beneath all that, curiosity festered in the both of them. "What do ye know anyways, yerโ" Ink interupted, pointing a finger in her face, "I know fuckin' better than he does." What was Jimmima thinking, fooled herself into believing she could find something like Jones and Snake, with Shite of all people. In spite of the girl's stubbornness, Ink could shut her up with just a glance.
While there was no explanation then, there is one now. The same one would explain how Jimmima came to be making a show out of stripping, carefully dragging the zipper of her deep blue tracksuit down, maintaining the charged eye contact between them. Ink made her feel small, but invincible all in the same breath. Like she couldn't be touched by anyone else but her. A chill scaled her skin, up and up, as Ink's gaze raked her body from head to toe.
The space between them closed with each stride of Ink's legs, as nonchalant as she could pretend to be, she couldn't hide the smirk on her face. Warmth bloomed under Jimmima's skin, presenting itself in the form of Ink's hand on her neck, pulling her against her lips. It was as intense as it was forbidden, the thought of the other fingers and even Sir Lord Jimmy in the other room asleep. Ink positioned her as she pleased, her hand traveling from Jimmima's sternum down to where shoddy cotton panties used to rest on her hips.
The tenderness was a far cry from the quickies she'd gotten used to with Shite, Ink was taking her time, savoring every second as if the opportunity would never come again. She nudged her pale thighs apart, dipping fingers into Jimmima's arousal, much too slick for someone who just wanted to call Ink's bluff.
"Yer soaked, y'sure ye get this way with Shite too?" Ink teased, her middle finger easing inside. To her surprise, Jimmima didn't reply, her eyes closed as if she were savoring it. In.. and out.. steady movements coaxing her open for a second finger. The two curled, Ink's ears keenly listening for the choked up whine that left her mouth the very next second.
"What do ye think the others would say if they saw you like this? Moanin' on me fingers like a proper slag. I should tell them." Ink teased, though it devolved from being a joke the second the door cracked just a sliver. Enough to let one's eyesight in. The rickety door hinges were merciful to whoever was behind it, silent in turning just the way they had thousands of times before. Ink paused, however Jimmima, in her haze, didn't seem to notice. The intrusion seemed to spur the former on, who found it fitting to slither to the floor. Ink thumbed her pale thighs apart, her gaze fixed on Jimmima's cunt as if she were measuring it up to her expectations.
Though, her curiosity would only be sated with a taste, using her tongue to part the lips and lick a broad stripe from hole to clit. Jimmima jolted, feeling the prickles of thrill beneath her skin, while she sat simply waiting for more. Ink persisted in the repetitive motions of her tongue, before wrapping her lips around the bundle of nerves that had Jay so amped up. "Christ... Y'done this more than once?" She rasped out, trying desperately to keep her voice down, though only received the vibrations of a chuckle in response to her question.
Ink only had an idea of who was at the door, with no opportunity to look back and see. She sunk her two digits back in, unsure if she was just proving a point or if Jimmima's pleasure actually mattered to her. The floor boards creaked, a shoe wedged in the door to keep it from closing while the inevitably blonde peeper watched. When she recognized Jimmy, fear prickled at her nerves first and foremost. The only thing stopping her from jumping up to cover herself was Ink's firm grip and unrelenting pace.
"Jay." Ink tried, failing to turn her attention from their leader, watching as she came apart on her fingers. "Jimmima." She doubled down, her tone assertive as Jay turned back. "Dinnae look at 'im, yer lookin' at me right now. Focus." Ink curled her fingers, dragging the tips of her fingers across the spongy flesh, back and forth. She coaxed noise out of her, like Jimmy was stealing her spotlight, and she was reclaiming her time. "Godโ!" She cried, though swiftly interrupted by Ink.
"Oh no.. no no no. Not God. Not even Old NickโMe."
Jimmima squirmed, her eyes glossed over as all she could do was focus on the peak her body was barreling towards. Whatever simple comforts she found in Fox paled in comparison to this, the closest thing to love the two were capable of, blossoming from a stupid spat. It was as beautiful as it was fickle, or maybe it was just Jay's sex-addled mind believing things that weren't true.
Her eyes rolled up, hips lifting to meet Ink's mouth. The fine-line dance of just right and too much teetered over the edge, as the fearfully unfamiliar feeling of being on the cusp of climax like Jimmima had truly never experienced before. Every nerve-ending in her body firing in an attempt to prolong this moment. Their leader, the sole guidance they have in this world, keenly watched on. There's no telling what Jimmy would tell the other Fingers, if anything at all, how he'd react to this brazen act of lust.
Jimmima's energy wrung out as she floated back down to earth, trying to catch her breath, looking for words to say to express what just happened and coming up blank. She looked back at the door, shut as if she'd imagined Jimmy being there. Ink spoke before her, looking both shocked and amazed.
"Wasn't too hard, dunno how Jimmy Shite's plannin' to do better." The befreckled woman hummed, a firm hand on the back of Jimmima's head pushing their lips together, soaked with juices that were shared between their tongues. Upon parting, the two stared at each other, unsure of how they were going to rejoin the group and pretend as if nothing had happened.
"What did you think, you were just gonna run and snitch?" He spat, eyebrows furrowed as he glared through you. He detested the way you stared back at him, fear and defiance written across your face, like you really thought someone was going to come looking for you. Paige had insisted Brett give you a chance, and instead of trusting his gut, he let you in. None of it mattered now, since it was just the two of you left.
If stabbing that prick from the beach hadn't shaken you up enough, when Brett killed Adam... you couldn't handle it. Watching and smelling as he and the stranger went up in flames, like any normal person, you bolted. You weren't raised so carelessly that you couldn't feel anything hearing his screams, the pain in your chest growing as your feet hurriedly carried you away. That was the last you heard from them until Brett texted you asking to talk.
It was out of character, but after what you'd seen, maybe he'd become remorseful overnight. You stepped up to his porch, knocking twice and listening to the chatter inside hush. Footsteps settled down the stairs, and before you knew it, the door had opened. Brett had a hard look on his face, and while it always looked like that, that knowledge did nothing to soothe your tense nerves. He let you in, walking you up to the second floor.
You waved at his family as you passed, attempting to be cordial despite how you felt. You never intended on telling anyone what happened, fearing Brett and, even worse, the videos on Paige's phone. As soon as the door to his room closed behind you, his hands pushed you backward. Brett grabbed your face, his jaw ticking as he tried to come up with the words to vent his frustration.
"Why'd you run, huh? Do you even know what the fuck happened because you wanted to be a little bitch and leg it? Cooper and Paige, they're both fuckin' dead. In the dirt, because you pussied out." His index finger pointed in your face; your lack of proper response only moved to anger him more. You were in disbelief, you knew he lied like his life depended on it, but this?
He pushed the limit every day and yet this was a new low. "I knew you weren't worth a piss, but Paige is hard to please, and somehow you snuck in. Now you're alive, and they're not. So you're going to make up for the time I wasted, the trust, and-- Hey!" Hot tears were rolling down your face, wetting where Brett grasped you. His palm struck your cheek, readjusting his grip on your face immediately after. "The least you could do is fucking look at me when I'm talking to you." Your lungs heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, and the painful lump in your throat prevented you from saying anythingโanything to placate him.
"I'm sorry, Brett. I'm so sorry." He exhaled sharply, as if he found humor in your words. "Yeah, you're fuckin' gonna be." He held you there, digging around in his pocket for Paige's phone. The one thing she never parted with, solidifying that what was happening right now, was real. Your fate was sealed the second you laid eyes on him, and instead of knowing any better, you'd walked right into the maw of the beast. "You stabbed that knobhead just like the rest of us, you think no one's gonna come lookin' for them?"
Brett looked around his room, his eyes landing on Bonnie's old cage. "Get in." You followed his gaze, looking at him in disbelief. "You're joking, youโyou can't be serious." Your face dropped, no humor to be found in his expression or words. "Please, Brett, I'm sorry. Pleaseโ" "Shut up, and get in the cage now. Or I'll pin all of that shit on you. Especially that little punk Adam." Brett's teeth gritted, only giving you a few seconds before throwing you on the ground towards it.
He was standing in front of the only exit, and you were sure he'd be true to his word if it meant tying up any loose ends that'd implicate him. Whether it have been out of strength or weakness, you crawled across the floor to it. He opened the crate, using the heel of his foot to push you the rest of the way in the second you began to hesitate.
You went through the motions, all trying to understand why your perfectly human reaction ended you up here. The guilt ate you alive all night, even when the sunlight came in a little slit under where the blanket ended, you'd woken up to it being a deep golden color. The sound of Brett's footsteps in around the room, before they stopped to the right of you.
Drawers opened and closed, his breathing getting heavier until he slammed his fist one what you could only assume was the dresser. "HahโFucking shit..." He laughed, fabric shuffled before the cover was lifted off the cage and light fell on your face for the first time since you'd come here. The seconds it takes your eyes to adjust, Brett was staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows, angrily fisting his cock. Something about your tear stained face, and the shock that flittered across it at the sight, made him throb.
Your desperation paled in comparison to the magazines he'd used before. Not nearly as perfectly sculpted as those women, but you were real. If he could only ask you to hold that face, to keep looking at him like he could kill you the second you took your eyes off him. "Yeah- just like that. Come here." It took a second to register, both that he was talking to you, and that he was asking you to bring your face closer. "Iโ Brett.." He watched your eyes dart around, chasing any kind of sign that he was joking. Brett's fingers poked through the wired cage, pushing your head forward as best he could.
His grunts grew quicker in pace, his hand following suit. The slick sounds of him pleasuring himself were maddening. If you'd pulled your head away hard enough, you could easily get out of his grasp. Even dislocate a finger or two, but you didn't. The pink tip of his cock pressed on your face, the hot flesh distinct from the warmth that bloomed across your skin already.
Brett just sounded so desperate, even if it was just to cum. A morbid part of you couldn't look away, much less move. "Open your mouth." He commanded, unable to reach through the wire bars and open it for you. In his mind, you were the lucky one, lucky he didn't kill you, and especially lucky he didn't have to piss right now. With a questionable amount of reluctance, you obeyed. Brett basked in this submission, as if his ego needed any more inflation, it didn't take much at all.
His intent was to cum on your lips, but your cheeks sucked in, and your teary eyes met his. "Fuckโ!" Brett didn't last a second, his seed flooding your tastebuds for as long as it took for him to pull away despite the fact that he wasn't quite done yet. The rest of his spend was not so delicately painted across your face as he originally meant to do.
Brett tapped his cock on your tongue, pulling away all at once and swinging the cover back over the cage. The ensuing darkness and the sticky substance on your face should've ruined you, highlighting that you were just a tool to be used by him. Still, you found yourself biting back the semblance of a smirk that pulled at the corners of your lips.
Hope you enjoyed! This fic was inspired by this video on twitter.
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AN: I have written and rewritten the same story over and over and after 6 months, I still have nothing to show for it. So I'm going to post these tidbits because otherwise they were getting deleted with the rest of the story and I know the Jacko/Jimmy Crystal hoes are thirsty.
The friction was killing you. The incessant drilling of his fingers inside of you, wearing you down at every curl and thrust. He was chipping away at you, slowly but surely. "All ye have to do is say yes." Jimmy remarked, grinning as he looked up at your exhausted form. You were bound by your wrists, your toes just barely scraping the ground, and you hung in the middle of his bedroom.
The irony of him being your only stability whenever you became unbalanced wasn't lost on either of you, only serving to drive you further into madness. You'd think your natural lubricant would've dried up by now, but no... it continued to flow almost as if your body had become content with treason. No way you could be attracted to him of all people, not now, not after everything.
Not when he was stuffing you full of his fingers, or partaking in each of your nipples. His freehand cupped the breast he wasn't attending to, the obnoxious slurping sound doing nothing to tamp the throbbing your poor clit threw at you for just a little bit of attention.
Jimmy brought you to the edge over and over, waves of pleasure rolled up your spine, wringing you of all your willpower. It felt like torture, delightfully agonizing torture. You'd have said something by now, but all of your previous attempts did not have savory results.
Vividly, you remembered watching your saliva drip down his face as he beckoned you before, hungry for your companionship, and how he'd left you dripping to your ankles by the time he decided to sentence you to the dreadful darkness that always came after. That quiet void was worse than this, when you were left alone with the thought of him defiling your body, and the notion that you enjoyed it to any degree.
Jimmy was nothing if not relentless. Your body had no capability of leading him astray; like an open book, he could read your every tense muscle and furrowed eyebrow. "Ye sing for me, lass. Ye always do, ye always will. Cannae deny it." He taunted, and you could hear the crooked grin he donned in the cadence of his words.
"Fuck you." You spat, though it was hopeless to resist. "I wish, but ye've got to say you want it. Sincerely." He added, too candid for what he was doing to you. Jimmy would have you like this day in and day out, regardless of his mood or fatigue.
Hours upon hours until he was either called away or was gracious enough to let you cum. It was a rare occurrence, but it never came without consequences. He treated you like a friend, confiding in you while you dangled from the ceiling, probably relishing in the fact that you had no choice but to listen. Having beaten you down, Jimmy had you exactly where he wanted you. Saying yes to him wasn't a mere means to an end; it meant forever. Yes to Jimmy was synonymous with being bound to him for good.
AN: I have written and rewritten the same story over and over and after 6 months, I still have nothing to show for it. So I'm going to post these tidbits because otherwise they were getting deleted with the rest of the story and I know the Jacko/Jimmy Crystal hoes are thirsty.
The friction was killing you. The incessant drilling of his fingers inside of you, wearing you down at every curl and thrust. He was chipping away at you, slowly but surely. "All ye have to do is say yes." Jimmy remarked, grinning as he looked up at your exhausted form. You were bound by your wrists, your toes just barely scraping the ground, and you hung in the middle of his bedroom.
The irony of him being your only stability whenever you became unbalanced wasn't lost on either of you, only serving to drive you further into madness. You'd think your natural lubricant would've dried up by now, but no... it continued to flow almost as if your body had become content with treason. No way you could be attracted to him of all people, not now, not after everything.
Not when he was stuffing you full of his fingers, or partaking in each of your nipples. His freehand cupped the breast he wasn't attending to, the obnoxious slurping sound doing nothing to tamp the throbbing your poor clit threw at you for just a little bit of attention.
Jimmy brought you to the edge over and over, waves of pleasure rolled up your spine, wringing you of all your willpower. It felt like torture, delightfully agonizing torture. You'd have said something by now, but all of your previous attempts did not have savory results.
Vividly, you remembered watching your saliva drip down his face as he beckoned you before, hungry for your companionship, and how he'd left you dripping to your ankles by the time he decided to sentence you to the dreadful darkness that always came after. That quiet void was worse than this, when you were left alone with the thought of him defiling your body, and the notion that you enjoyed it to any degree.
Jimmy was nothing if not relentless. Your body had no capability of leading him astray; like an open book, he could read your every tense muscle and furrowed eyebrow. "Ye sing for me, lass. Ye always do, ye always will. Cannae deny it." He taunted, and you could hear the crooked grin he donned in the cadence of his words.
"Fuck you." You spat, though it was hopeless to resist. "I wish, but ye've got to say you want it. Sincerely." He added, too candid for what he was doing to you. Jimmy would have you like this day in and day out, regardless of his mood or fatigue.
Hours upon hours until he was either called away or was gracious enough to let you cum. It was a rare occurrence, but it never came without consequences. He treated you like a friend, confiding in you while you dangled from the ceiling, probably relishing in the fact that you had no choice but to listen. Having beaten you down, Jimmy had you exactly where he wanted you. Saying yes to him wasn't a mere means to an end; it meant forever. Yes to Jimmy was synonymous with being bound to him for good.
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the bone temple is so funny it's like what if one man had a bedside manner so powerful it could make the whole world better. now back to people getting peeled
quick as hell update, I got a little brain worm writing my jimmy crystal fics after watching bone temple, and I will be releasing a Jimmima x Jimmy Ink blurb/drabble TONIGHT (me when i lie). I tried to keep it under a thousand words, but I still need to edit, hopefully it still packs a good punch (lest I get charity).
I just wanted to give you guys some notice that I will be partially inactive for the span of however long it takes me to complete the backlog of fics that I am in the process of writing. I wanted to do my due diligence to the lacking James Cook and Sir Jimmy Crystal pool. I would like to make a taglist for these fics, but I do not know how๐ญ
Though I did want to provide some insight into what I'm working on, as well as a sneak peak into some of them.
Also: Do not be alarmed if I follow you back, I am trying to garner more mutuals.
Jack O'Connell:
James Cook
James Cook x Late Bloomer!Virgin!Reader
"Can't believe I'm the first to ever touch this cunt. Just look at you, look at her, can barely take one finger but wants more. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cook taunted, staring intently at your glistening slit in the reflection of the mirror. The two of you kept making eye contact despite what he was trying to draw your attention to. The squelch of your arousal, and the way you clenched around his middle finger had him groaning in your ear. He didn't get any physical pleasure, but listening to your voice while you were damn near whining in his lap? Oh, there was truly nothing better.
James Cook x Bimbo!Reader Imagine
[ANGST] James Cook x Reader (Twoshot)
Sir Jimmy Crystal
Clingy!Sir Jimmy Crystal x Reader
"Ye can't leave meโ I am nothin' without ye." Jimmy spoke from his spot on your lap, comforted by the way you stroked his golden hair. It was a far cry from the synthetic wigs his 'disciples' wore, it was soft and real. Real enough to make you forget the man he was, reducing him to a mere head of hair in your lap. In all the time you've known him, it was clear he didn't want your feedback, just needed your attention. The words were nothing but an empty expression, juvenile in the way they clung to the comforts you found yourself unable to provide.
Sir Jimmy Crystal x Bimbo!Reader Imagine
Remmick
Door Mats Drabble
Remmick's fist paused before knocking on the door, his gaze fixed on the doormat on the ground: 'WELCOME' in big bolded letters. One would think if you had the sense to paint the ceiling of your porch blue, you'd be more wary of welcoming any and everything into your home. He turned the doorknob, pushing the limits on his vampiric constraints. It gave, the windowed door creaking open into a dark house, nothing but the slow sound of your unconscious pulse upstairs filled the air.
I wanted to add the titles and concepts for the rest of the fics now that I have them all figured out :)
Sir Jimmy Crystal
God Given Solace: Clingy!Jimmy x Reader
The relationship you had was almost purely transactional, both physically and emotionally. He worships you, volatile as he is, you're his only constant. You fight it, you don't want to stick around and be important to him. So you flee, and Jimmy gives chase.
A Few Sandwiches Short of a Picnic: Jimmy x Bimbo Reader Imagine
This is a Sugar Daddy!Dealer!Jimmy imagine, and you are his ditzy girlfriend.
Specter Spectacular: Dealer!Jimmy x Ghost!Reader
Lady K & The Sick Man inspired fic where Jimmy buys a new flat with his dealing money, and it's haunted by a ghostly reader.
James Cook
Head Over Feet: James Cook x Late Bloomer!Virgin!Reader [Season 4 ages but no Season 4]
To keep the school afloat, Roundview has given up part of the campus for higher education students, that are only a year or so the senior of the rest of the students. Their parents sponsor the school, so it gives the faculty a glimmer of hope. You, being one of those students, find yourself in the maw of the beast that is James Cook.
Room Temperature IQ: James Cook x Bimbo!Reader Imagine
James Cook is your pool boy and you have fortunate misfortune of having a husband who's never home.
Scar Tissue*: [ANGST] James Cook x Reader
Cook is at the end of his mortal rope, hands worn and bloody from holding onto life, and he wanders. He's content that his end will come tonight, though someone else is at his spot of choice, having beaten him to the punch of staring at the glittering city before the last train arrives.
Remmick
Speechless: Remmick x Fledgling!Reader
Being under Remmick's influence meant that you were connected not only to him, but everyone else as well. To some, the ability to tune the others out came natural, to you.. not so much. Plagued by the incessant noise and lovemaking, you were treated like an eavesdropper, and Remmick was getting complaints. So, he takes matters into his own hands.
Welcome Mats Drabble: Remmick x Reader
He hadn't been able to do this in a millennia. To enter a house with someone in it, a human at that, without needing an invitation. It felt like normalcy almost, the kind he didn't want to pervert just because he was a little peckish. Remmick was curious and patient, after all, other than blood, there was nothing you had that he needed... right?
I just wanted to give you guys some notice that I will be partially inactive for the span of however long it takes me to complete the backlog of fics that I am in the process of writing. I wanted to do my due diligence to the lacking James Cook and Sir Jimmy Crystal pool. I would like to make a taglist for these fics, but I do not know how๐ญ
Though I did want to provide some insight into what I'm working on, as well as a sneak peak into some of them.
Also: Do not be alarmed if I follow you back, I am trying to garner more mutuals.
Jack O'Connell:
James Cook
James Cook x Late Bloomer!Virgin!Reader
"Can't believe I'm the first to ever touch this cunt. Just look at you, look at her, can barely take one finger but wants more. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cook taunted, staring intently at your glistening slit in the reflection of the mirror. The two of you kept making eye contact despite what he was trying to draw your attention to. The squelch of your arousal, and the way you clenched around his middle finger had him groaning in your ear. He didn't get any physical pleasure, but listening to your voice while you were damn near whining in his lap? Oh, there was truly nothing better.
James Cook x Bimbo!Reader Imagine
[ANGST] James Cook x Reader (Twoshot)
Sir Jimmy Crystal
Clingy!Sir Jimmy Crystal x Reader
"Ye can't leave meโ I am nothin' without ye." Jimmy spoke from his spot on your lap, comforted by the way you stroked his golden hair. It was a far cry from the synthetic wigs his 'disciples' wore, it was soft and real. Real enough to make you forget the man he was, reducing him to a mere head of hair in your lap. In all the time you've known him, it was clear he didn't want your feedback, just needed your attention. The words were nothing but an empty expression, juvenile in the way they clung to the comforts you found yourself unable to provide.
Sir Jimmy Crystal x Bimbo!Reader Imagine
Dealer!Jimmy x Ghost!Reader
Remmick
Door Mats Drabble
Remmick's fist paused before knocking on the door, his gaze fixed on the doormat on the ground: 'WELCOME' in big bolded letters. One would think if you had the sense to paint the ceiling of your porch blue, you'd be more wary of welcoming any and everything into your home. He turned the doorknob, pushing the limits on his vampiric constraints. It gave, the windowed door creaking open into a dark house, nothing but the slow sound of your unconscious pulse upstairs filled the air.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
โ Live Streamingโ Interactive Chatโ Private Showsโ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
AN: I try to talk to you guys through my Author's Notes, and my other page @inatheclown, but I've noticed I don't really attract the same crowd for every fic UNLESS it's Jack O'Connell related. Going forward, I'll be focusing on his characters. That being said, I did have a lot of fun with this one. K, bye. <3 (thank you for giving me the motivation to make this @ali-r3n)
The snapping of fingers next to your face jolted you out of your daydreaming, your eyes darting to your friend, Tiffany, in the driver's seat. "How many more miles until the exit? This traffic is so bad I can't even look at my phone." She questioned, squinting to try and see past the utility van in front of her. Construction ahead had brought the six lane highway down to three lanes, with no shoulder on top of that. You two were running late to the 'haunted attraction' you bought tickets for over the phone. The minutes ticked by as your scheduled time slot grew closer and closer, while the scariest part of your night so far was wondering if other people wore their halloween costumes to the place you were going. You'd stick out like a sore thumb in yours if not, especially since it was the night before Halloween. "Oh, um... we only have like eight more miles until the last exit, then its three to the venue." You replied, smoothing out the pink dress bunched in your lap while she hummed in acknowledgment. Ever since the movie came out, Tiffany had been obsessed with being one of Dracula's brides this year, asserting herself as Verona, and even going as far as to have her grandma sew the dresses. Despite being unable to find someone to be your Marishka, it was almost fitting since she died first in the movie anyway.
The rest of the drive was uneventful, except for getting cut off by an exceptionally rude squatted truck driver. Though the middle finger through the window of a sedan wasn't the most mature option, it didn't stop you from sticking your hand out. Tiffany gathered her things, being her keys and lipgloss which sat snugly in her bra, reminding you that there was a no-bag policy. You followed her lead, though all you had was money for food in one cup and a perfume oil roller in the other. Tiffany reached into the backseat, more so just under the driver's seat, and pulled out a thick glass bottle of Tito's. It was about almost empty, hopefully enough for the two of you. You went for the glove compartment, where your two shot glasses were securely tucked away. They were gifts from graduation, decorated with pink cowgirls on each one.
Tiffany poured you both a shot on the center console, letting you have the one that'd accidentally gotten more than the other. It burned going down, but pretty soon, you forgot what you were even scared about. Though it didn't last long as it only took standing up out of the car to see the insanely long line for general admissions, wrapping several times around the queue barriers. "Ah, shit. I knew we should've called ahead, our group probably already went through." Tiffany sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's okay, but the quicker we get in line, the faster we'll meet back up with them in the back." You beamed optimistically, taking her hand as you walked all the way to the back of the line. Lucky for you, plenty of people had shown up in their costumes, though some not as detailed or nearly as exposing as yours. The chill of eyes on you two crept up your spines, her nails digging into your knuckles as nerves addled her.
After thirty good minutes, you were a whole six feet ahead of where you stood earlier when you heard commotion. Loud whistling, almost reminiscent of screaming, the empty line for the fast pass having heavy steps marching down it. You give up your spot in line to shuffle to the barricade, leaning over to see what was going on. A small group of the scare actors were making their way backward, handing out VIP passes and food coupons to get the line from being so crowded. It quickly became chaotic, other patrons packing in like sardines against the barrier to have their shot at getting out of line. The actors waved, some smiling and passing things out seemingly indiscriminately, though your eyes landed on one in particular. A woman dressed as a succubus, with a body that seemed proportionally impossible, and it looked like she noticed you too. Her gaze felt as if she was sizing you up, anxiety thrumming through your veins as this vixen stared at the two of you. The actress produced two backstage passes, humorously titled 'Behind the Screams'. Tiffany gushed, smiling and thanking the woman as is she were a goddess among men. The Actress grinned, fake blood dripping from the corners of her mouth and showing her visibly stained teeth. Although it was a gag, it certainly left an impression.
You vaulted the barrier, while Tiffany took her time, the Succubus assisting her with a hand on her waist. She escorted you both to the front of the line, giving a knowing glance to the two employees at the entrance. You share a look with your friend, surely looking cartoonish as you tensed, staring at Tiffany as if she wasn't in your same shoes right now. The gatekeeper cleared his throat, garnering your attention. "Since you signed the waivers already, I'm just going to give you a quick rundown. Our performers may get up close and personal, if at any point it becomes too much, exits are all around the inside of the attraction." He paused, glaring at the black void who was about three inches away from your face and getting closer. "Anyways, coarser language is used inside, just be mindful since your passes allow you to meet all the actors at around midnight tonight when the shows conclude." The gatekeeper explained, his gentleman-ly demeanor only working to lower your guard for whatever was inside. However, you were royally distracted by the person dressed in black next to you, unable to see whoever it was' eyes, just knowing they were on you. "With that being saidโ" He stepped to the side, ushering you and Tiffany into the Haunted House. "Have fun!" With the Gatekeeper having spoken too cheerfully, you were cautious to step past. "See you backstage!" The void shouted in your ear, sparking the first of your many, many screams tonight.
The entrance was pretty drab, the attraction set up like a maze with themed rooms. Portraits flew open, actors snarling and screaming just for your reaction, and... you definitely did react. Your throat was raw from how many times the loud gas canisters and jumpscares got you. You were halfway through at this point, coming through the gallery, which was supposedly the best scene in the attraction. You were so terrified already that you forgot everything you'd heard about it. There was an unpleasant smell wafting through the air, stale and cold, but certainly not sterile. It was a scent you couldn't place, and were grateful that this would be the first and last time it graced your nose.
"Oh! I think this is the one where theyโ" Tiffany's words were muffled by a dainty hand clapping over her mouth, and a much larger one over yours. Icy chills rolled down your body as the groups in front and behind you watched in awe as the two of you became apart of the attraction. Brought up to two stagelike pedestals, the figures strung you both up by your wrists. "How unlucky, Dracula's brides wandering into our den." Tiffany's abductor remarked, the snide tone making your captor chuckle. "Indeed, though this Aleera would be much better suited being mine rather than his." The male voice spoke, stepping into the spotlight that was glaring in your eyes. You stammered, trying to collect your words, your entire body shuddering against your will. "Trembling already, I haven't even touched you. Yet." The actor laughed maniacally, the low octave of what you'd only assume was his stage voice set your nerves alight, anticipation winning over your fear.
"My, my... what a figure." The succubus from earlier commented, admiring your beloved friend like meat. It never took a rocket scientist to read Tiffany, she practically brandished her heart on her sleeve. He cupped your cheeks with a gloved hand, turning you to look at him. "Eyes on me, Sugar." He commanded, everything feeling so much realer than you thought it would. You took the moment to give him a onceover, his bone-white painted face and black leather outfit. Wracking your brain, you tried to think about what movie the character he was dressed as came from. Black trenchcoat, pointed black makeup on his eyes, which made him look like some kind of rock band member.
"Fresh prey... these naughty girls look like they need punishment." The speakers blared, the other attendees taking their time to watch as the show began. You couldn't tear your eyes from the predator-like actor who was circling you, brandishing a very realistic looking knife in your face. He couldn't help himself from admiring you, your nervous gaze trained on the silver blade. "Don't worry, it won't hurt." He leaned into your ear to whisper, his free hand landing on your waist as he dragged the dull side across your bare skin. You could hear the words of the succubus to the side of you, surely lulling your overeager friend into doing whatever she asked. The blade stalled in front of your throat, gloved fingers pulling your chin back to lift your head as if he really was going to do it. He took his time, his face inches away from yours, eyes dropping to your lips and lingering. Before you knew it, you were leaning in, kissing him. It was chaste and quick, traces of your lipgloss on his skin as he smirked.
"That.. certainly wasn't in the script." He hummed, a rumbling chuckle that came from deep in his chest seemingly surrounded you. You were mortified, thinking worst case scenario about it all. His thumb swiped off the sticky residue, before he returned his focus to the knife in his hand. You gasped as his swift movement was only a blur to your vision and your lungs burned as you shrieked, convinced that the end would come at the hands of this attractive man in front of all these people. The lack of pain is what stuck out first, and the torn material of your bindings. Man, if this guy could slit your throat open and you died painlessly? Maybe he really was a trained professional after all. You pried your eyes open, your captor tugging you along by the rope he'd severed to scare you.
"Sl-Slow down." Your voice came weakly as you found yourself nearly tripping over your dress. He stopped abruptly, having turned to face you now, his index finger dug just beneath your chin. Instead of closing the gap himself, he pulled on the rope, forcing you forward. Even in the beginning of winter, this cold haunted house was starting to make you break a sweat. At least, that's what you'd like to think. "Shh... All you gotta do is look pretty and be scared, you've already got half down pat." He jested, his deep brown irises seemingly enamored with your features, though turning away soon after to resume your trek.
He savored every second, unfortunately having a job to do on top of flirting. "You seem to be enjoying yourself." Your captor spoke from ahead of you, the smirk on his face audible from his words alone. Your head was spinning with nothing but the heavy steps of his boots to remind you of where you were. You were still having fun, a giddy grin on your face as the rope tugged you along. It became abundantly clear when at a fork in the corridor, you and Tiffany were taken different directions. "Where are we going?" It was a rhetorical question, even if he did answer it, odds were you wouldn't know what he was talking about. "Outside." He curtly replied, pushing open the door in front of you.
On the other side was behind where the hayride was boarding, the path where the patrons walked separate from the one you were staring at. He pulled you through the exit before cutting off your restraints, intently checking your wrists for any marks. "Is it appropriate to ask for your name? I mean, we've kissed, that permits an introduction at least." "Eddie. You?" You grinned as you gave him your name, noting the hum that left him as he repeated it. "'S cute. Fitting." The offhanded compliment took you by surprise.
Eddie's smile was friendly, looking at you like he's known you all his life. For just a second, you'd forgotten where you were, and just existed in the moment. The chatter of passersby knocked you out of it, and he chuckled. Surely you weren't so easy to read, but maybe he was good at that kind of thing. "You up for a little cat and mouse?" He asked, out of the blue but still piquing your interest. "Hm?" "Gets the crowd psyched for the hayride, y'know?" It sounded more like an excuse than anything, just wanting to convince you to get up to something fun. "Can I get a headstart?" "Of course. Five seconds once you get out of the gate." The both of you agreed, but as soon as you turned to start this chase, Eddie stopped you. He pinched your chin, turning your face in his direction while he pressed his lips to yours. They were soft like you vaguely remembered, his saliva tasting faintly of cigarette smoke. Being the much better kisser that he was, Eddie left you panting, your heart already racing before you'd even started.
"You gotta sell it, make 'em think it's real." He reminded, gesturing for you to be off. Your fingers ghosted over your lips, having one last look at him before walking up to the gate.
You paused, taking a deep breath before letting out the most blood curdling banshee shriek you could muster. The previous chatter went silent as you burst through the gate, purposefully tripping over your feet before scrambling to start your sprint. "Oh God, oh God... fuck. He's coming, somebody please help me!" You wailed, running through the crowd, bumping into people left and right. The five seconds had surely past and you were getting held up, everyone either moving out of the way or completely oblivious to your approach. The truck for the hayride was almost fully boarded, but you had no intention of getting on it. Your throat burned, chest rapidly rising and falling.
The quickest glance behind you had you running faster, as he was gliding through the other patrons so smoothly that he was catching up to you. Too close for comfort. The first instinct you had was to get out of this crowd, hopefully having better luck without any obstacles. Your heart raced, and you were unable to hide the grin that broke out on your face as now there was nothing between you and the ride but a wide dirt path. You felt so alive, the bite of the cold autumn air making everything a lot more vivid. You looked back again, this time not seeing the man who was giving you chase. Relief washed over you as you were about a hundred feet from the trailer, a dozen eyes all on you as you screamed bloody murder. "Please! Don't leave me! Wait!" Those on board stared at you, before they began to laugh and point. Their amusement turned to shock as you fell again, this time not so gracefully with a black boot having hooked around your ankle and tripped you.
"No! No, no... no!" You sounded desperate, as if your life were really at stake. Eddie dragged you backwards, watching as your nails clawed at the dry dirt below you. He was impressed by your performance to say the least, how committed you were to making these people believe he was going to kill you. Your tormented screams sounded painful, music to his ears as it went to show just how far you'd go to please him. Hell if the chase didn't have his dick straining at his pants already, that realization would've. "You did so good for me." He mumbled as he lifted you over his shoulder, the hayride taking off behind you two. His praise sent shivers up your spine, opposite of what you were feeling earlier. Eddie carried you off back towards the attraction, where you found yourself against a wall on the side of the building. His tongue invaded your mouth, drinking in every moan that left you.
It was a temporary moment of privacy, as you were only alone until the next group came through any minute now, in fact, you could already hear them. Your movements were sloppy, tripping over your own feet as you tried to find somewhere else to seclude yourselves. "Shitโ You'd think there'd be more places to fuck in a haunted house." Eddie huffed, holding your hand as he looked for somewhere that didn't have either patrons or other actors in it. "My van is parked out back." He offered, trying to sound as little kidnap-y as possible. The options were slim and you were both pent up to high hell. You'd sobered up from shot earlier, but you'd like to think that if you still had that liquid courage, tipsy you would accept. So, you accepted.
You and Eddie ditched the attraction, hurriedly making your way back to his car. You found yourself leaning in much closer than you'd like to admit, taking advantage of his shoulder right next to you. "You cold?" "No." You mumbled a reply, suddenly wary of accepting the affection and attention you craved. Too self aware for your own good, reminding you that this Eddie guy was a complete stranger. He called out your name and you turned to look at him. "Second thoughts?" He asked, squeezing your hand. His charm was disarming, his presence like warm light on your skin. You shook your head and stuck next to him to the back of the parking lot. Eddie opened the door to the van, the smell of the inside hitting you first. You were no stranger to smokers and its distinctive scent, so you already knew what you were getting yourself into. He sat down, reaching under the seat to push it back. Eddie offered you his hand, helping you up to straddle him, and pulled the door closed behind you.
Now that he had you alone, he didn't know where to start. You leaned down, cupping his face and sloppily kissing him. Eddie placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. He pushed his fingers beneath the fabric covering your chest, swiping it out of the way. The sight of you straddling his lap nestled its way into his core memories. The way he looked up at you, his face illuminated by the light above you, his dark brown irises like clover honey admiring you. He palmed at the swell of your breasts, his nose running up your sternum as he leaned into your warmth. He stopped at your nipples, taking one into his mouth and tweaking the other with his fingers. It was a light, yet pleasurable feeling, coupled with the subconscious roll of your hips in search of any kind of friction. He liked watching you squirm more than anything, greedily chasing whatever you could get like he was going to disappear if you didn't. Eddie could tell you to be patient all he wanted, but frankly he was getting to his wits end too.
He reached to adjust his seat, leaning it as far back as it could go. Before he could go for the buttons on his pants, you were already doing it for him. "Waitโ" He put his hand out to stop you, but it was already too late. You covered your mouth with your free hand, giggling and grinning behind it. The angry red tip of his cock had precum beading from the slit, the size of it bigger than anything you'd seen. "Commando under leather pants?" Your teasing words did nothing to help the blush on his face, both from arousal and embarassment. "It's more practical, it gets hot under this thing." Eddie explained, his gaze fixed on you as you spat in your hand. Saliva dribbled down the length of his arousal, glistening under the yellow car light. His hips thrusted up into your fist, his lip tucked between his teeth. "Please." He begged, uncaring that he was relenting his control for you. It was too easy to take the reigns, pulling your panties to the side and dragging his tip against your pussy.
He whined, gripping your waist as you seated yourself on him. You hunched over, tucking your face into his shoulder. Inhaling for what felt like the first time in hours, you could feel every twitch of his cock, ready and eager for more. "Fuckโ Just, hah... please." He groaned, guiding you up before sliding you back down again. "Please what?" You taunted, withdrawing your cunt until he answered you. He huffed, looking up at you, unsure of if you were being serious or not. "Shitโ Use me. Please, use me." Eddie pleaded, his lips drawn up in a smirk as you rode him faster. He filled you like you were made for each other, and he was trying his damndest to let you set the pace. Your cunt was milking him for all his worth, pulling helpless moans out of the two of you.
Eddie's self-control buckled under you, his hand moving to your thighs as he fucked up into you. The pad of his thumb tucked between you, nestling itself making circles against your clit. Every second that passed was one where the two of you barreled closer to cumming. You were on cloud nine, the knot forming in your stomach feeling so surreal. "'M close. Where- Where do you want me to.." He trailed off with a grunt, feverishly rutting into you. "Inside. I'm on the pill." He breathed a sigh of relief, his lips brushing against the skin of your collar bone. With every motion of his thumb, your hips stuttered, burning with their overuse but still you persisted in chasing this high. "Fuck!" You spoke, repeating it over and over again as you reached your peak. Eddie was right behind you, a photo finish as he stuffed his cum as deep as possible. He stilled, trying to catch his breath, laying back in the seat and taking in the sight of you. There was no telling how he'd gotten so lucky, or when the next time you'd see each other was.
Moments passed in silence, before you spoke up. "What are you even supposed to be dressed up as?" His stomach tightened with laughter, the question catching him off guard. "Uhh, hello? Eric Draven... the Crow?" He spoke, like it was common knowledge. "Never heard of it." "Never?!"
โ
The two of you walked back to Tiffany's car, the windows all covered in fog. You stopped in your tracks, jaw nearly on the floor as the movement was far from innocent looking. Eddie knocked on the glass, muffled gasps coming from inside before the manual window rolled down. Your friend looked surprised to see you, her lips smeared in what seemed to be some kind of face paint. It was only then that the succubus from earlier leaned over her shoulder, kissing her cheek before looking at you too. "Can't you see we're busy?"
AN: I pulled all of two all nighters to get this out and I feel as though it is kind of rushed. I wanted to get this done so I can post the Scare Actor Eddie Munson fic I mentioned on my other page. I do apologize if it's not my best work.
"Look at ye, bonnie girl. Pointin' the iron in me face like yer gonna do somethin' with it." Jimmy hummed in amusement, grinning like a madman. Your eyes narrowed, thumb sliding off the safety and pulling back the hammer. "You broke into my house... put your mouth on me, and worst of all: you're ruinin' my high." You reply, not relenting despite the stark lack of undergarments on your body. In truth, you were still in your bed, sitting on your knees, while he'd made himself comfortable at the edge. He scoffed at your statement, looking at your furrowed eyebrows with feigned confusion. "Yer just goin' ta leave out how ye missed our meetin'? I did ye a favor, ye ought to be grateful. Plenty ah things I coulda did, eatin' yer cunt hardly scratches the surface." He spoke so surely of himself that it pissed you off even more.
"So it's my fault that you couldn't just wake me up? How about, you ought to be grateful I don't wanna paint my ceiling with you." The words came out more venomous than you'd intended, though Jimmy didn't take it as much more than banter. He took it upon himself to kiss you first, catching you off guard enough to remove your weapon and discard it. "Thas what I said, no?" He chuckled, clicking his tongue at you and patting his thigh, the wordless command intending to keep you off balance. Jimmy liked this resistance, a welcome change to the hens he was used to dealing with. It wasn't the challenge you gave him, only the seemingly endless bounds of entertainment your personality provided him. Maybe also your figure, which he'd so gracelessly admired even before things had gotten this intimate.
Jimmy occupied your lips to shut you up, he was selfish like that, but you had to admit the allure he had. Your hand was placed on his chest, savoring the taste of his saliva. Your senses were still operating in hyperdrive, your focus solely on him like nothing else existed at this moment. You'd gotten the tablet custom-made from one of your associates, with no intent to distribute it, something to make you a bit more social. It was only supposed to be a small test, show you the limits before you learned them the hard way. The heat was slow at first, creeping up your body like you were acclimating to the space around you. The empty room had never felt so warm before, and it only got worse as time progressed. In your infinite wisdom, you decided that the best option was to sleep it off, and (unilaterally) that Jimmy would come by at a later date. It was wishful thinking, as the longer he went without product, the more money he was missing out on.
His body on yours felt unnaturally natural, like it belonged there more than you wanted it to. Your heart ached when he pulled away, absentmindedly moving to chase what you'd lost. "Ah ah... sorry Lass. Ye dinnae think I was just goin' to let ye screw me and get off scot-free?" Your mood fell, remembering the precarious situation you'd gotten yourself into. "I have it all... I could throw in some extra or a discount, justโ don't leave me like this." You sounded pitiful, and it delighted him to no end. Jimmy coaxed your body to lie over his lap, his hands exploring your form as if he were trying to commit it to memory. Your softness, every swell and dip, stopping at your ass, a sharp exhale leaving him upon contact. "S'alright. Yer gonna pay yer good pal Jimmy back in a different way, make good on the... lost time." He wouldn't dare say the time had been wasted, especially when it was quite the opposite.
The pads of his fingers circled the meat of your ass, agonizingly slow. "Yer not involved in the 'transitional' phase of things, I understand." Jimmy started, his palm firm as a board as he swatted your asscheek. The suddenness forced a gasp from your lips, his arm heavy as his elbow dug into your back to keep you down. "It's a process. Having me Jimmies package and distribute everything takes time." His hand came down again, your body unable to brace for impact due to his unpredictability. You stammered out an apology, your threshold for pain being quite low as is, but you felt it almost exponentially more due to your intoxication. "Missin' out on deals 'cause ah you, but you're gonna make it all right... aren't you, bonnie girl?" He asked, not satisfied with the curt nod of your head. He spanked you again, the interval between them getting shorter and shorter to urge out a verbal response. "Yes, I will... Jimmy." You groaned out, swallowing the saliva that was slurring your speech.
"Thas right, y'take it so good." He cooed, his fingers dipping down where you needed him the most. Jimmy was more than pleasantly surprised with how your inner thighs were sticky with arousal, this he knew was of his own doing. It stroked his ego just right listening to your mewls, his fingertips grazing your clit, circling it until your hips were pushing back against his palm. "Patience, lass. Wouldn't want ye to go and enjoy yerโ" He paused, focused on how your cunt eagerly accepted his middle and ring fingers. "Punishment." Jimmy sneered, plunging the digits in and out with a growing fervor, the gold bands around each one disappearing inside of you.
The desire for more ate away at you, the words dying in your throat as his dexterity pulled moan after moan from you. This man was making a proper mess out of you, only getting away with it by narrow luck. On your bedside table, an open makeup compact caught your attention. It faced the bigger mirror on the wall, where you could very easily see Jimmy's head. His ramblings that fell on deaf ears, the smirk on his face, all capturing your focus while he was distracted by your lower half. Jimmy was quick to notice when you stopped reacting to his words, the telltale contraction around his fingers at the end of every sentence having ceased. He followed your attention all the way back to the wall mirror. "Ah... thas what's got ye distracted then?" The question was rhetorical, your heart sinking when he retracted his hands from you. He lifted you off his lap, urging you to your feet while he tugged you in front of the mirror. "This better?"
Jimmy steadied your hips, your bare back to his chest as he dragged his weeping cock up and down your folds. He relished in how you tensed, hypersensitive and needy. His teasing ended when his tip snagged on the warm cavern he'd been prodding at, quickly moving to hold your waist and lower you onto him. The stretch was more than you'd anticipated, delicious and snug. "Thas' good, s'fuckin tight. Squeezin' me like I owe 'er money." He jested, a breathy laugh leaving him as he seated himself fully within you. Jimmy controlled the pace, listening to your moans as he eased into a rhythm. Your head fell back, welcoming his grip on your throat. He fucked into you, dragging his nose along your throat and inhaling. Your sweet scent had him reeling, pride swelling in him as his gaze locked on your blissed out form in the mirror. He relished in how your whole body bounced with every thrust, your furrowed brows drawn up in pleasure. The thought that if you'd been awake none of this would've happened. There wasn't a lucky star in the sky that he hadn't thanked yet.
Jimmies be damned, nothing else mattered right now. You were like a grand prize, so willing and eager to take what he gave you. Surely the sight of your union shouldn't be exclusive only to him. "Ah, Bonnie girl.. look here. Look at yer cunt as she's takin' all of this cock." He leered at your reflection, though his grin dropped ever slightly when you didn't immediately do as he said. Easy fix, he thought, grasping your jaw and forcing you to look. His tracksuit starkly contrasting your bare skin, highlighting how exposed you were to him. It went straight to your head and you felt like you were teetering on your orgasm for a millennium, so close and only needing that little push. "PleaseโJimmy, Fuck!" You moaned out, begging for him to touch you. The only reply you got was that demeaning chuckle, entirely too satisfied with himself. Your eyes followed his hand down, parting your thighs just enough to make space for it. He rubbed messy circles at your clit, haphazard and rushed, hoping to catch up with how close he was getting.
Your cunt milking him for all his mortal worth had his thrusts stuttering, becoming erratic as he chased nothing more than his own high. Jimmy's hand kept up its relentless pace despite how overstimulated you were rapidly becoming. Your messy cunt was dripping down your thighs, the remnants of your release coming in spurts. "Christโ!" He grunted, a string of expletives following, buried down to the hilt and shooting his seed as deep as humanly possible inside of you. He was holding you so tightly that it was sure to bruise, making certain that he'd marked you inside and out.
Hope you enjoyed!!
Divider Credits to @chrisssiren & @cursed-carmine !!
