#jackson rippner dark fic
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"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader
(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth
once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!
Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.
The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately. No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it. And believe it or not, he wanted more than that. Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone. He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night. Either, or both, would do.
It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you. He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job. It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels. The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security. This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.
But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window. His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…
He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation. But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.
Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.
~
The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you. He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with. Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.
For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you. It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction. Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong. This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been. His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike. God, did he really have a crush? How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.
"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.
"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said. He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.
"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.
"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.
"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"
Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."
He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive. "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.
"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”
As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.
“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."
"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer. Like fish in a barrel. "How old is it?"
"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.
"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again. "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious. Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."
You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about. He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.
“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson. It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”
You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him. “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”
“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”
“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained. “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”
Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying. And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still. A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do. And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people. You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again. He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it. No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all. Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.
And he also found that annoyingly attractive. Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.
….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!
“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied.
“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.
“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around. Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”
“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own. I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”
“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled. “For me it’s probably cocktails. I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”
“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”
“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”
“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.
Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess. Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected. All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.
“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”
You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.
“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.
For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh. “You were on the right track,” you admitted.
“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration. After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”
“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.
“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself. Your drink order, I mean.”
Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far. Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment. “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.
He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown. Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off? You’d seemed so flattered before. “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice. “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?
“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face. “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there. So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”
“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch. “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there. I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”
You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly. “Yeah, it is.”
“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on. “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”
You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace. “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply. “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.
“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.
“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.
Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself. Bitch. But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course. Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted. Do what I say, or he gets hurt.
Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician. But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.
~
The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.
“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.
And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him. He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.
“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties. “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him. But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going. Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.
It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck. “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”
Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.
“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while. “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."
Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long. That made you feel more violated than anything.
“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait. I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”
You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything. “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.
“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”
It was the way he said that word: sweet. It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day. Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that. “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”
“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.
“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”
“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face. “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly. “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”
“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.
“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned. “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers. Don’t give me one.”
Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself. Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen. And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.
“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.
You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.
“Say it.”
“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.
“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.
“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.
“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.
“Yours! Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek. “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this. Please don’t do this.”
You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest. “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”
You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.
“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.
“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck. “You’re right— you can do whatever you want. I can’t stop you. Isn’t that what you wanted to prove? Just… just don’t make me—”
“Make you?” he repeated. “No, no— you wanted me. I could tell. Only thing stopping you was him.”
He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.
“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you. “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”
Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.
“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts. “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”
You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come. “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.
“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.
“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.
“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick. “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic? That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only. That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least. You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”
He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.
“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.
“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved. “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”
"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"
Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.
A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin. You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.
"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"
He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"
As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.
"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.
He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself. You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.
“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip. “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”
You shook your head. “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say. Don’t hurt him.”
“Open your legs,” he ordered.
Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.
“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.
He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further. His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.
Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum. "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled. You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away. Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other. "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.
Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.
You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking. Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you? Or was it for his own benefit?
He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open. Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.
“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course. Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely. “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”
You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips. “So wet. Fuck. When’d you get like that, huh? Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”
He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.
“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly. “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”
You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.
“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed. “Fuck, I might break you…”
He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction. There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips.
“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless. “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”
He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.
“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised. “Now you try it.”
This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside. He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.
“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks. “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl. Knew you could.”
You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet. He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.
“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head. “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”
You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.
“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned. “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”
Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.
“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.
You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.
“Go on! Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.
You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this. From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening. Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…
But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.
“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”
“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.
“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly. “Please fuck me.”
You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you. You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside. “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh. “Fuck, it’s tight. Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town. I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”
Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.
Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this. The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.
Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment. “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.
“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously). “Not used to anything this big, huh?”
You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend. You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.
“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust. Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life. “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”
The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to. It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.
“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this. “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”
Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once. Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder. He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore. Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck. One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.
“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss. “Fuck.”
But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him. “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”
“God,” he growled, “say my name again. That’s so hot.”
You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late. “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.
“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.
“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this. “Jackson, f-fuck—”
He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…
As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair.
"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.
Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.
Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.
You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole. “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.
“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.
“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain. “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper. Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling. “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”
Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.
“See? Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb. Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.
He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck.
"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"
He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass. You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…
"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."
You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.
“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster. “Needy little slut. You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”
You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.
"Answer me," he insisted.
"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.
"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.
"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.
“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone. “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”
“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”
"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"
He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.
"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue. "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."
You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.
He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction. "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"
You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird. Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.
“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.
At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting. But in a literal sense, it hurt less.
“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back. Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected. You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly. “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”
Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly. “F-fuck, wait—“
He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him. For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”
As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going. “Fuck!” you screamed. “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”
“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.
You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something. Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized. Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.
“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder. “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll. Show him who you really belong to now.”
“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries. If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).
It felt fucking good. You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious. And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless. You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually. Shameless. Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed. “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.
It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"
“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.
“Mm? Why not?” he smirked.
You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that. “What?” you just asked groggily. “Why… why do you think?!”
He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going. Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?
“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.
“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific. “Fuck!”
He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing. But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could. You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.
He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?
As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.
“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.
You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.
“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.
Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor. Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.
“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him. He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat. “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.
He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest. You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.
When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.
It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved. It’s over, he’s finally done with you. You did it. It’s over. But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.
“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you. “You see it, don’t you? He looks different now.”
You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing. You suddenly felt sick.
“He looks at you different now.”
You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that. Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you. But what had you done wrong? All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person…
Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.
“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”
Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek. “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault! I didn’t want this to happen!”
“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”
You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly. After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.
He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence. “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.
“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took. Everything. From me.”
“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you? Can’t help that?”
“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.
“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?”
Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience. You shook your head.
“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that. I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”
“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.
“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked. “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”
You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself. “Work…?”
“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”
#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner dark fic#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#red eye fanfic
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Naughty Little Thief
Dark!Jackson Rippner x Theif!Reader
Word Count: +5,416
Warning(s): +18, Non con, Theft, Stalking, Manhandling, Forced Oral (m receiving), Forced Stripping, Forced grinding, Unwanted orgasm, Classism, Verbal abuse, Partial loss of virginity, Rimming (f receiving), Public sex, Humiliation.
Author's Note(s): I'm bored at work and wanted to kill some time before studying. Here's more Cillian content.
It's the holiday season, and you end up pickpocketing the wrong person. He makes sure you'll regret ever crossing paths with him.
You felt bad for what you were about to do. But he didn't seem like he was financially struggling. So of course, you decided to pickpocket the stranger. Deep down you hated it, but there was no other choice. It was either this or going hungry tonight. At the end of the day it didn't matter, money was money. That was the mindset that's kept you alive for so long. You spot the chosen victim, he's a businessman, seemingly in his thirties, wearing an expensive tailored suit. Jackpot.
You wind your way through the crowd of shoppers, scurrying towards the unsuspecting man. You're right beside him, giving a light pinch to his left side. As soon as he turns to find the source, you quickly reach into his right pocket and pull out his wallet, scurrying into the crowd to disappear. That was almost too easy. You could tell by the texture alone that it was expensive. You turn it around and read the embroidery on the flap, 'J. Rippner'. A man who has good taste.
But before you could open it, someone grips the back of your neck. A large leather hand digs into your skin. You cry out, dropping the wallet as both of your hands reach for the stranger's. He turns you to face him. It's Rippner, and he's pissed, "Where the hell do you think you're going? Hm?"
"I...I.." you were at a loss of words. He drags you by the arm into the nearest alleyway. You look around for someone, anyone who would see what was happening and stop him. No one, of course. Who would help a thief like you? He slams you hard against a brick wall, your head throbbing in pain from the impact. It takes you a while to catch your breath as all the air had escapes your lungs. He uses his body to trap yours between the cold stone, caging you with him.
He growls, "You wanna steal from me you thieving little bitch?!", he's fuming, "I should drag your ass straight to the police station," he hisses, his features twisting with anger. You could tell by those cold, piercing eyes that he was not an easily forgiving man. Yet still, you tried to persuade him, "W-wait! Please! I'll do anything! I-I swear!"
Jackson pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering up at down your quivering form. He's thinking of something that would satisfy his growing hunger, "Show me your tits," for a moment, you couldn't believe what he had just said, brows furrowing in confusion, "I-I'm sorry?" you look at him as if he'd grown two heads. He leans in, now grumbling, "Show me those tits, and I'll decide if you're worth letting go,"
His hands grip the front of your jacket as he unzips it. He rips open the buttons off your blouse, ignoring your protests. Finally reaching a lacy bralette hidden under all those layers. He whistles, "Well I'll be damned, you weren't expecting anyone, were you?" he mocks. Your fingers dig into his arms, but it was futile. You bare your teeth at the man holding you hostage, "Go to hell you perv!" that remark only worsens your situation. He drags the fabric down, revealing both your breasts to the winter air.
You gasp, trying your best to cover them. A leather gloves reaches to twist one of your buds. His voice is stern, "I'm sorry, what was that?" pulling harshly at the sensitive nub. You yelp from his touch, retreating in hopes that he would halt his actions. You were wrong, instead that bratty tone from earlier, landed you a harsh slap on the chest. His gloves didn't ease the impact. He delivers strike after strike against your bare flesh. Until both buds began to peak on their own.
He fondles them in his hands, eyeing his work, "Nice tits..." he gives both of them a squeeze, pulling them towards him, "Very responsive..." his deep voice now a purr. All you could do was glare back at him with tearful eyes, trying your best not to cry. You hadn't expected a complete stranger to be so cruel. You, a literal thief.
Jackson dips a finger into your mouth. When you try to bite down, he delivers a light tap on your jaw. Holding the back of your head with an iron grip as he points in your face, "Don't even think about it, I'm not joking I'll drag your sorry ass bare naked down the streets," he threatens. His hands reach around your waist. He yanks your pants down to your ankles. Exposing your bottom half to him.
He takes a look at the panties you were wearing. Staring back at the teddy bear print and smirks, "How adorable..." his fingers slide in between your legs, caressing the now slick folds though the fabric. You turned your head to the side to see if any onlookers would pass by. He notices and angles his body to cover your form. He whispers in your ear, "Shh...I just need you to help me, and I'll help you, then we're even," it sure as hell didn't feel like it.
He reaches around the waist of your panties, slowly sliding off your underwear. He groans at the sight of it, licking his gloved digits before sliding them up and down your slit. You whine from the light, sensual touches. He reaches for your opening, collecting any wetness. His breathing increases, as does yours. He captures your bud in his hand, teasing it until you almost lost footing. You grip his shoulder for balance. He chuckles, "Oh you like that, don't you?" he teases. That earns him a harsh slap.
You were done being his little plaything. No more, you weren't going to whore yourself out to anyone. Especially not to some trust-fund baby. His head whips the other way, strands of his hair now dangling against his forehead. His cheek twitches, as if there were a battle going on inside him, "Oh, you've fucked up now..." both his hands are around your neck, squeezing it as hard as he could. You try fighting back, fingers digging into his wrists.
But it was futile, there was no way of stopping him. When your vision begins to blur and grip starts to weaken, he lets go. You cough hysterically, trying your best to breathe again. He waits until you're done with the dramatics. He grips your chin, eyes boring into your own, "That, was a warning," he pushes both your shoulders down until you're on your knees, "This, is your punishment," slotting his foot in between both legs.
He forces you to sit on his leather shoe, tilting your head to look him in the eyes, "Get yourself off," he commands. By now, you know not to disobey his orders. You try testing the waters, the cold leather felt uncomfortable against your bare mound. It was almost unbearable. It takes a while before you collect any slickness. Your ears getting warmer despite the weather.
Rippner chuckles, he retrieves his foot before you've had a chance to finish. He examines his now wet shoe. He sneers, "Really? You're seriously getting off on me using you like this?" a cruel grin plays on his face. He presses his shoe against your bare pussy, he mushes it against the opening, "Of course you'd like that...you're nothing but filth..." his cruel words made you blink back tears. They feel hot gliding down your cheeks. It almost makes him feel bad for doing all of this to you. But then again, you did just try to rob him.
He sighs, "We've got to do something about that mouth of yours," he suddenly unzips his pants, pulling out his half-hard cock. Your eyes bulge at the sight of it, pressing your lips shut in protest. He held his girth in one hand and your hair in the other. Jackson glides his shaft across your face, his leaking tip smears precum on your cheek. He mockingly taps his cock against your lips. His voice is raspy, "Does this make you squirm?" he knew exactly what he was doing to you with those words.
He pinches the bridge of your nose to cut off any air supply, forcing your mouth to open. He doesn't waste any time shoving his member deep inside. His tip now touching the back of your throat. It makes your eyes water. The corners of your lips rip from the stretch of his girth alone. How it could fit, you hadn't a clue. Both his hands grip the sides of your head, as he begins to buck his hips. He groans, "Oh fuck...you feel fucking amazing..." moaning with each thrust.
He stops himself from going any further. He wants to cum inside, but not in your mouth. No, he'll save it for some other time. He pulls you away from his cock and you're an absolute mess. Spit and tears everywhere. He lifts you by the shoulders, pressing you against the brick wall, again. He aims his tip against your cunt. It takes you a moment to process what was happening. Then in a split moment both of your arms shoot out, "N-no! Not there!" You cried, "Anywhere but there!" your voice starts to break.
Even after losing everything, you still didn't want your first time to be with a complete stranger. He could do whatever he wants, just not that. His long fingers wrap around your neck, adding a bit of pressure as he whispers in your ear, "Oh? And why is that?" genuinely curious. Your answer is faint, almost silent. He didn't quite catch what was said, "I'm sorry, what was that?" he held your jaw in place so he could look at you in the face. There was no way, not at your age. Did he hear you correctly?
You were starting to get pissed off, "I said I never fucked before, asshole!" that had you receive a harsh slap on the ass, "Ow! Ow okay! I'm sorry, just stop already!" that explains a lot. How you managed to leave his gloves and shoe soaking wet. As much as Rippner wants to pump a load into that sweet pussy, he decides to save it for later. Instead, he flips you over, your bare chest now against concrete.
Jackson bites his lips. He can't believe he's getting on his knees for someone like you. He parts both your cheeks, spitting at your rim to get it nice and wet. He flattens his tongue, lapping it against the tight ring before thrusting it in. Your knees began to buckle, you use the wall for support. Pressing your face against the brick. He bobs his head to a rhythm, and you can't stop moaning. His tongue reaching deep inside the muscle. His free hand reaches to rub at your clit, while the other pumps his cock.
After a while he stands up, aiming his now leaking tip against the rim, "This is going to hurt, a lot," he starts to enter, pushing inch by inch. You squeal at the stretch. A gloved hand muffles your cries. He began to give short, small thrusts. He grunts from how tight you were. Almost climaxing from the squeeze you gave. He quickens his pace, wrapping his other arm around your waist for better leverage. From there he went on autopilot, ignoring your pleas to slow down. He simply couldn't, he doesn't want to.
Finally, he releases a load deep inside. You felt his hot spunk coating your insides. Your head felt heavy after already reaching your own orgasm. His head hung over your shoulder. His breathe felt warm, "I've been eyeing you for a while, little mouse," It's true, he's been watching you for some time. You had first caught his eye when his chauffer was stuck in traffic. He watched as you went into action. It was remarkable, that talent of yours.
He's been planning this for some time. Today he wanted to see you up close. He had to know more about you. Even asking his ride to drop him off a few blocks. Jackson purposely took this route knowing that he'd get robbed. He needed an excuse to talk to you, his little specimen of interest. He knew the exactly how you would steal from your victims. Although he couldn't feel the hand reaching into his pocket, it was pinch you gave to his side that indicated him the wallet had already been stolen. That was his sign to take over the situation.
His arms are still wrapped around your upper body, hands now playing with your tits, "I'm Jackson by the way, Jackson Rippner," he tells you while still buried deep inside, "You've been targeting this street for a while now, you live around here?" no answer. You downright refused to entertain him any longer. He gasps, "Oh...that's right I completely forgot..." he grips your hips, slowly pulling out his member. He hisses from the feeling. It's almost too good to stop.
He retrieves a napkin from his coat pocket and hands it to you. When you refuse to take it, he isn't mad. Although you were testing his patience. He helps you get changed, satisfied that you kept his load in. Your panties were probably soaked by now. Once the both of you were decent, he asks you again. Yet still, no answer. For that he lands another slap on the same spot. You yelp from the impact, "Here! I live here!"
"I know that, but where? This is a shopping district, there aren't any homes in this area, so, answer my question: Where do you live?"
You look out the alleyway to a place across the street. He pulls you in, with an arm now wrapped around your waist. From a distance it seemed as if the two of you were lovers. You guide him to where you've been living in the past few months. Right across the street in a small, worn-out vehicle. Jackson raises a brow, "You live...in a car?" he sounds genuinely surprised.
It's the dead of winter. Not exactly the perfect time to be stuck out on the streets. But it was all you had. You turn around to face him, "Yeah well, some of us don't have daddy's money to get us by..." you scoff. He likes that answer. Good, you wouldn't have anyone to miss you. He grins from ear to ear, tilting his head, "If that's the case, you're coming with me," He drags you to a mysterious black car with tinted windows. Your feet drag against the pavement. You' we're too exhausted to fight back.
It felt uncomfortable trying to find a sitting position. Jackson hops in right after, sitting unbearably close to you. He held you close, like a lover would. He sighs with adoration, "You don't have to worry about your things because I'm keeping you," he taps the tip of your nose, "But no more stealing? Got it?" he'd rather not draw any negative attention your way. Jackson then hums a holiday tune, which one you didn't care. All you could think of was how much you regretted ever stealing from him. He held you close to him, stroking your hair before giving a chaste kiss, "Merry Christmas to me, eh?"
#jackson rippner#red eye#dark!jackson rippner#dark!jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner x reader#reader#reader insert#dark fic#dark fanfic#dark smut#dark fanfiction#dark!fanfic#dark!fanfiction#my work#dark!fic#fem!reader#my works#my fics#one shot#afab!reader#fab!reader#cillian murphy character
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can you recomend some dark smut (and maybe come noncon👀) fics for cillian murphy and his characters?
thank you!
yesss! some of the people listed are some of my favorite ever writers btw <3
tumblr:
@mypoisonedvine most of their work is dark/noncon/dubcon! (masterlist)
@babybluebex here (dubcon, robert fischer), here, here, and here (yandere, jonathan crane)
@burnyouwithacigarettelighter here (sorta dubcon/noncon, jonathan crane), here (dubcon/noncon, neil lewis) they also have a dark jackson rippner work coming soon!
ao3:
@/dittywrites here (dark stuff overall, read warnings! jonathan crane)
@/rottenpumpkin13 here (dubcon, jonathan crane)
@/justwantedmynametobereallylong (NotThisAgain) here (dubcon, jonathan crane)
@/milkywaykitten here (dubcon, jonathan crane)
@/finnieston_crane here (dubcon, jonathan crane)
@/guttermutt here (noncon, jonathan crane)
@/slut4thebroken here (noncon, jonathan crane) (they're also on tumblr @slut4thebroken and are planning some other dark fics for jonathan crane and jackson rippner)
there's a plethora of dark fics on ao3, there's sooo many (too many to post all of them) but I hope you enjoy these! <3
#mypoisonedvine#babybluebex#slut4thebroken#burnyouwithacigarettelighter#ao3#tumblr#dark fic recs#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#jonathan crane#jonathan crane x reader smut#jonathan crane smut#jonathan crane x reader#jackson rippner x reader smut#jackson rippner#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner x reader#robert fischer#robert fischer x reader#robert fischer x reader smut#robert fischer smut#neil lewis#neil lewis x reader smut#neil lewis smut#neil lewis x reader#darren pig x reader#darren pig smut#darren pig x reader smut#floralcyanide fic rec
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day twenty-two: dacryphilia with jackson rippner
pairing: Jackson Rippner x f!reader
word count: 698
warnings: dubcon/noncon, degradation, name calling, Jackson is abusive, hatefuck (?), reader doesn’t cum
a/n: Two in one day! Yay! Hopefully I catch up. In the meantime, enjoy mean Jackson doing terrible things.
kinktober masterlist
Jackson really was an asshole sometimes. Your fights with him became more and more frequent, usually when you asked him about work. He never explicitly told you what was going on, but you could tell something was eating away at him. Anytime you mentioned it he snapped at you. This particular spat got ugly.
“Jackson, I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me what’s going on. You’re being a fucking asshole to me for no reason.”
This time he decided to make it personal. “I didn’t ask for my girlfriend to be such a fucking bitch.”
“Choose your next words wisely, or you won’t have a girlfriend to fucking abuse anymore.”
His eyes bore into you, closing up the space between you and pushing you up against the kitchen table. He grabbed your face to force you to look at him. “You make me sick, you know that? You should be fucking ashamed of the things you let me do to you. You’re a good for nothing whore. You’re worthless.”
“Jackson, you don’t mean that…” You hadn’t meant to start crying but something snapped inside you causing a torrential downpour of tears. You loved him, but he could be so ruthless. You couldn’t wrap your head around it.
To Jackson, these situations were foreplay. They were very real insults to you. To him, they were playful comments designed to get you right where he wanted you. Broken. Submissive.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry,” he said under his breath. The statement gave you whiplash. It wasn’t the first time he went from berating you to being sweet, or at least trying to be sweet. He got off on making you miserable. You could tell what his end goal was when you saw the bulge in his pants.
You couldn’t stop crying. For whatever reason, today was the day the dam broke. “I’d tell you to stop crying and suck it up if it wasn’t turning me on so much,” he gestured with his head, “Get on the table.”
You did as he said and pulled up your skirt in the process. One less thing he had to command you to do. “Good girl. You already know what to do. I have you well trained, don’t I?”
“Yes, Sir. You do.” You were on autopilot. Your responses were mechanical and your tears stopped. You were exhausted by the constant hot and cold temperament that Jackson displayed.
He unzipped his pants and pulled your panties to the side. He was lining himself up when you tried to close your legs. “Shhhhh,” he cooed as he opened them back up again, “It’s alright. You’re gonna feel so nice by the time we’re finished.”
“I hate you, Jackson.” Your tears started again as he thrust in you. He grabbed your tits through your shirt as he railed into you. His eyes never left yours. His jaw clenched as he watched the tears stream down your face. “My little crybaby is all worked up isn’t she?” He thrust faster. He went as deep as he could, feeling the way your wet hole sucked him in. You could tell this would be over quickly. Jackson wasn’t going to last long if you were crying; he made that clear when you saw how quickly he got turned on.
You tried to wipe your tears away while your body moved back and forth on the table. Jackson took your arms and pinned them above your head, getting close to your face as he said “I love it when you cry. You’re so pretty when you’re a mess.” His thrusts started to get sloppy.
He quickened his pace and came inside you, his groans filling up the room. He pulled out and watched his semen pour out of you; he liked to watch. He put your underwear back in the right position, fixed your skirt, and then put himself back in his pants. He pulled you off the table and into a big embrace. He held you tightly, hoping to keep you close for at least a moment longer.
“I love you. You’re so perfect for me,” he said. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond.
Taglist:
@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny
(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)
#annie writes#kinktober ‘23#jackson rippner x f!reader#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner#dark jackson rippner#red eye 2005#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fic#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#cillian x reader
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KINKTOBER IS HERE WHERE ARE THE SLUTTIEST MOST FILTHY CILLIAN MURPHY FICS I'M READY
#kinktober#i am not okay#where are the smuts#jonathan crane smut#jonathan crane imagines#jonathan crane x reader#cillian murphy#cillian fic#cillian x reader#cillian x fem!reader#jonathan crane x y/n#smut#jonathan crane#the dark knight#jackson rippner#raymond leon#robert fischer#neil lewis#tommy shelby
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Past Mistakes Catching Up
pairing: Jackson Rippner x Reader
Summary: You can’t escape him, even if you tried.
Genre: Darkfic
Warnings: Murder threats
Word count: 1.5k
Note: I was troubled with exams for the past two weeks and I realised I was neglecting writing stuff so I decided to write this. (I still have 3 more exams to go through)
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Breathe in, breathe out.
That was all you could focus on. Don't look at him. You looked out the window, feeling his deadly gaze at the back of your head. Go away.
Breathe in.
“You know, if you don’t want to be cold out on the floor I suggest you start picking up the phone and making this stupid call.” There it is. The man you avoided for the past 7 years, telling you what to do once again. He liked to think he owned you, what a narcissist. Every time you had someone special in your life, he would threaten to kill them and make you suffer till someone realises you were missing. He insisted on you breaking off the relationships via phone call, he thought you would try running away if it was face-to-face, and you totally would. I want this to end.
Breathe out.
With trembling hands, you picked up the phone he was handing out so persistently and dialed your significant other's number. Not everything is sunshines and rainbows as they display in the media.
“There, I did what you want. Now please, please I’m practically begging you, leave me alone Jackson.” You cried, that was all you could do in this situation anyway. He kissed your cheek slowly, making you nauseous. “You’re all mine, baby. I won’t let anyone else get near you.” He cupped your cheek sweetly —to him, it was a sweet gesture but you were terrified for your life— what a nightmare. He would never leave you out of his sight. You were aware of how bad of a person he was. The harsh reality, I suppose.
Breathe in, breathe out.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy imagine#cillian fic#cillian x reader#jackson rippner x reader#red eyes#jackson rippner#cillian x y/n#cillian fanfic#dark fic#fem!reader#gender neautral reader#male reader
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[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙸𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜]
This is an updated WIP list as of 7/24. In case you are curious to if your request is in my drafts or not, you can always check here and see if something sounds similar or if you are tagged in your request progress.
[𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳]
I want to take some time to catch up on what I have. As soon as requests are open again, I will post that they are open and that my WIP list has been freed up. Please keep in mind, the wife and I are in the process of packing and moving into our new apartment, so hang in there with me while I balance things out.
This does not indicate the order that they will be done. I write with my flow, so one may flow better than the other one day. But they will all be done as soon as I can get them.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson Requests:
• Ray Marcus x Fem!Reader - Ravishment
Anon Prompt Request, CNC, in drafts.
• Ray Marcus x Fem!Reader - Backseat
Anon Prompt Request, Car sex, in draft.
• Tangerine x Fem!Reader - Title Pending
Anon Continuation Request, Reader Learns More, In Drafts.
• Yandere!Count Vronsky x Fem!Reader - Title Pending
Mutual Request, themes pending, smut, in drafts.
• Ford Brody x Fem!Reader - Leather Black & Eyes of Blue
Anon Request, Childhood Friend, Angst, Smut, in drafts, started.
• Ben Leonard x Fem!Reader - Title Pending
Anon Request, Hidden Feelings, Smut, in Drafts, Started.
• Tarzan!Kraven x Fem!Reader - Title Pending
Requested by @rvmanoffbarnes, in the wilds, smut possible, In drafts.
• Kraven x Fem!Reader - Keep Your Enemies Closer
Requested by @rachelcarroll1819 Avenger Reader, ties to spiderman, in drafts.
Jake Gyllenhaal Requests:
• Detective Loki x Fem!Reader - She's the Tear in My Heart
Anon Requested, possessive Loki, relationship drama, in drafts.
Cillian Murphy Requests:
• Jackson Rippner x Fem!Reader - The way you Break
Requested by @voxmortuus, Dark!Fic, Dead Dove, in drafts, started.
If you have questions about your draft or want to even just chat about it. Feel free to send me a message or an ask.
Normally Pinned - F.A.Q. - ATJ Masterlist - Multifandom Masterlist
#nyxvuxoa writes#fanfiction#dark fic#tangerine x you#tangerine x reader#ray marcus x reader smut#ray marcus x you#cillian murphy x reader#jackson rippner x reader#aaron taylor johnson fanfic#aaron taylor johnson smut#aaron taylor johnson x reader#jake gyllenhaal x reader#jake gyllenhaal smut#work in progress
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just some hawties that will be making appearances on this blog one day
Callan Mulvey as KGBeast in Batman Vs. Superman
Dylan O'Brien & Taylor Kitsch as Mitch Rapp & Ghost in American Assassin
Harris Dickinson as Chase Andrews in Where The Crawdads Sing
Lee Min-Ki as Tae-Soo in Monster
Cillian Murphy (a.k.a the sexiest man on this here planet) as Jackson Rippner in Red Eye
Stephen Dorff as Deacon Frost in Blade
Oliver Jackson-Cohen as Adrian Griffin in The Invisible Man
Nathan Mitchell as Black Noir in The Boys
Tony Goldwyn & Cary Elwes as Rudolph & Ruskin (a.k.a. Casanova) in Kiss The Girls
can you tell i have a blood kink?
#kgbeast#mitch rapp#ghost american assassin#chase andrews#tae-soo#jackson rippner#deacon frost#adrian griffin#black noir#casanova fellas#dark!fiction#non con fics#callan mulvey owns my whole ass#and cillian owns my whole heart
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Hello, You
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐
♡⊹.* Alexx┆★ ˙ᵕ˙
She/Her ᰔ 24 ᰔ Sagittarius
╰┈➤ Dogs, Cillian Murphy, Happiness / / ♡
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆
┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆
┊ ┊ ★⋆
┊ ◦
★⋆ ┊ . ˚
˚★
Yes:
▶️ Yandere
▶️ Stalking
▶️ Smut
▶️ Noncon/ Dubcon
▶️ Dumbification
▶️ Degradation
No:
⏏️ Vomit
⏏️ Scat
⏏️ Homophobia
⏏️ Racism
⏏️ Beastyality
Enjoy your stay here ❦ ᡣ𐭩
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★ MASTERLIST ★
Hey this is the masterlist with all the fics i've written so far (and will be updated every time i upload a new fic)
Cillian Murphy x Reader:
Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed (fluff)
Three And A Half Months (smut)
Illicit Affairs (smut, dad's best friend!Cillian)
In Your Car, I'm A Star (smut)
Wind In My Hair, I Was There (angst + smut)
Lazy Sundays (smut)
A New Pair of Glasses (smut) (part one)
Red Eyes (smut) (part two)
Strawberry Syrup (smut)
Jonathan Crane x Reader:
Sitting Pretty (smut)
Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (fluff + angst + comfort)
Are You Afraid of The Dark? (smut)
Neil Lewis x Reader:
Pussy-Whipped (smut)
You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive (smut + angst)
Slut (smut)
Thomas Shelby x Reader:
Show Me How Much You Need Me (smut)
Ambrosia (smut)
Look What You Made Me Do (smut)
Emmett (A Quiet Place II) x Reader:
Scream For Me (smut)
Jackson Rippner x Reader
Your Dog (smut)
Oppenheimer x Reader
- Oppie is a sub? (smut)
don't see something you think should be there? send me requests and i'll write em <3
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#a quiet place II#a quiet place 2#emmett a quiet place#emmett#emmett x reader#jonathan crane#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane smut#batman#batman begins#watching the detectives#neil lewis#neil lewis x reader#neil lewis smut#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy fanfiction#oppenheimer#oppenheimer smut
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All Work, No Play: hour one
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader
Summary | You meet Jackson at the bar in the hotel you’re staying at and decide to be brave and try something new; a one night stand. But it doesn’t go the way you think.
Warnings | NON CON 18+, sexual content, fingering, vaginal sex, dubious consent, threats of anal rape, degradation, humiliation, misogyny (like so much lol), choking, hickeys, cunniligus, crying, edging, stalking, voyerism, breeding, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation, putting misogyny again lol, objectification, face down ass up🤭, dehumanization, threats of murder and torture, I think that’s everything skdjdk.
Words | 6.5 k
Notes | READ THE WARNINGS. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO VIEW. The last thing I wrote that was this intense was maybe the beginning chapters of exposure therapy or the dark!jason series💀
Ao3 link | <3
Fic Masterlist
Main Masterlist
This is the last warning, if you keep reading and find something you don’t like, that’s on you. I have it clearly written what’s in this fic, if you choose to ignore it, don’t be a bitch about it and comment hate or report it ❤️
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
“Can I sit?” Your head snapped up, finding a man standing behind the empty seat next to you.
“Yeah. Go ahead.” You said awkwardly, clearing your throat and putting your attention on your drink as he sat down.
“I'm sorry, I'm not usually this forward, but I was wondering if I can buy you a drink?” Your eyes widened and you turned to face him, not expecting that question at all.
“Um- sure. Thanks.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up when he returned it. He called the bartender over to order his drink, then looked at you expectantly. You ordered, then finished off the rest of the drink you already had— two shouldn’t be too bad.
“I’m Jackson.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You told him your name in return and he muttered it to himself, testing it out.
“What brings you here?” You asked, turning toward him to give your full attention.
“Work. You?”
“Work.”
“I have to say though, this trip is turning out to be much better than the others.” He gave you a small smile and you tried not to get too overwhelmed with the butterflies in your stomach as you stared at him, wondering almost anxiously about where this was going.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“This time a beautiful girl let me buy her a drink.” You averted your gaze as your face heated up, not used to such sudden compliments like that.
“I guess I could say the same then.”
“I don’t believe that.” He scoffed playfully. “You must have men practically lining up to buy you drinks.”
“Nope… Just you.” You said, embarrassed. Thankfully, the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, giving you a break from his attention. “So how long are you staying here?” You asked, changing the subject.
“I should only be here one more night. Maybe two depending on how tough the job is.” He shrugged.
“Oh okay. I’m flying back over the weekend so I’m here for a few more days.”
“Do you have any personal time or is it all work and no play?” The way he said it made it sound like an innuendo… but you weren't completely certain if it actually was.
“Well I have enough to sit at a bar and talk to a stranger.” You smiled behind your glass as you took another sip.
“I see… And what about going someplace quieter with a stranger? Do you have time for that?” He said lowly, making arousal pool in your stomach as his eyes darkened slightly.
“I think I could spare a bit. It depends on what this stranger wants to do.”
“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say in the middle of a hotel bar.” You eyed him curiously, deciding what to do. You’re not a one night stand type of girl, but he’s hot and you’re a little pent up.
“Then I guess we should go somewhere you can tell me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he immediately reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet and place some cash on the bar for your mostly untouched drinks.
He stood and held a hand out for you to take as you got to your feet, letting him lead you over to the elevator. On the ride up, you tried not to let your nerves consume you, but you weren’t doing a very good job of that. The doors opened and he led you to his room, using the key card to open the door, then holding it open for you to walk in first. You looked around the room, finding no luggage and the bed perfectly made as if it hadn’t been slept in yet.
“How long have you been here for?” You turned to face him as he placed his key card on the dresser and you waited somewhat impatiently for his answer.
“A few hours. I mostly just have to work tonight.”
“Oh… Do you need me to go then?” You asked, not understanding why he would invite you here if he had to work.
“Of course not. How would I get any work done if you left?” Your brows furrowed as you replayed his words in your head, still not understanding.
“Um… I— What?” You laughed awkwardly.
“I'm gonna be honest, I thought I’d have to try a lot harder to get you to my room.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, but he ignored you.
“I mean, I know you pretty well by now and I didn’t think you were the type to do one night stands.” You stared at him in confusion, but your stomach was twisting with a sense of complete and utter dread that something bad was about to happen to you.
“I’m a little tired actually, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” You said, tentatively walking forward, but he remained between you and the door, blocking you.
“But the night’s just getting started.”
“Jackson, please move.” You said quietly, gaze shifting between his face and the door. He took a step closer, making you stagger back as he approached.
“Now that we’re somewhere quieter, I guess I should tell you what I want to do. Or… not what I want, but what I’m going to do.” You were quickly nearing the wall behind you as he kept moving closer. When your back hit it and a small gasp escaped you, he placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you.
“I need something from you. Depending on your attitude, I’ll either take it, or you’ll give it to me willingly. One of those options will be significantly more painful for you and fun for me.”
“Please let me go.” You whispered, not able to maintain eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suddenly grabbed your cheeks to turn you toward him, making your eyes snap back to his.
“Beg if you want, but you’re not leaving here any time soon. Not until I get what I want.” He said lowly, words sounding like they once again had a different meaning.
“What do you want?”
“Two things. We’ll start with the fun one first.” The hand on the wall dropped down and he snaked it back up your thigh, under your dress. “Which pair did you wear, hm? I hope it’s that red set. The black one’s cute too though.”
“What?” You said through a breath, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about. The lacy one that you seem to love so much. You take so many pictures of you wearing it and I know you don’t have a boyfriend so who are you sending those to?” He said teasingly.
“How do you know that?” You whispered, heart pounding in your chest.
“Same way I know that you like to walk around your apartment naked.” Your stomach twisted at the smirk on his face.
“I- I don’t understand…” He shushed you before you could finish. Not that you could formulate a response anyway.
“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. For now, let’s do what we came up here for, yeah?” He wasn’t asking you, he was letting you know what was happening, but you weren’t about to go down without a fight.
“You’re fucking psychotic if you think I’m doing shit with you.” You spat, pushing his hand away when it started moving toward your underwear.
“Baby… don’t be like that.” He cooed mockingly. “I know how pent up you are so stop being a stubborn bitch and just enjoy it.” He warned, tone significantly harsher than before.
“Fuck you.” His hand suddenly moved from your face to your neck, squeezing tight enough to make you raise your hands to claw at his arm. You thrashed around in his grip, prompting him to place his leg between your thighs and push his body against yours, mostly immobilizing you.
“Keep this up and I’ll torture you to get what I need, then kill you and fuck you— in that order.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “Do you understand?” You did your best to nod with his grip on your neck.
“Yes.” You managed to force out through a wheeze.
“Good.” His grip loosened significantly and you took in a huge breath, chest heaving to get the much needed oxygen. “Where do you want it? Against the wall? …On the bed?” He asked coyly. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, desperately waiting for him to just say that this was all a joke and he didn’t mean any of it. But he never did. “Bed it is.” He answered for you.
Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you from the wall and pushed you back toward the bed before practically shoving you onto it. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you on your back, propped up by your elbows to look up at him.
“Strip.” He demanded, eyes focused only on you. Hesitantly leaning up into a sitting position, you started with your heels, unbuckling the strap then dropping them to the floor— only debating for a moment if you should throw them at him or try something else, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Moving on to your dress, you pulled the zipper down until it loosened and took a deep breath before moving the straps so that the dress fell to around your hips. You lifted your lower half off the bed a little to slide it the rest of the way off, then waited.
“Please don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you. You know what I want.” He said, all but rolling his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. Your underwear was next, slowly sliding them off and keeping your legs together before covering yourself with your hands.
“Fuck they’re even better up close.” He groaned, taking off his suit jacket. “Do you know how many times I jerked off just watching you walk around naked? You should really learn to close your blinds, you know. Sure people from the street can’t see you, but I could see you perfectly from the roof on the building across from yours.”
“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, watching as he unbuckled his belt before taking it off.
“People pay me to.” He said with a shrug, making you scoff.
“People are paying you to rape me?”
“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.”
“You’re sick.” You hissed.
“Maybe. But what does that make you?” A smirk was making its way on his lips.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I can see how wet you are.” He said plainly, gaze dropping to your legs.
“You’re fucking delusional.” You spat.
“Am I?” He walked over to pick up your discarded— damp— underwear, holding them up for you to see, making your face burn. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been told I’m conventionally attractive and I know you’re into this, even if you won’t admit it.”
“Into what? Being raped?” You scoffed.
“Not to that extreme. You want to be forced— dominated against your will. You want me to take what I want from you and trust me, I have every intention of doing that.”
“Look I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just,” He was on you in a second, roughly shoving you so you were laying down, then holding you there with a hand wrapped tight around your throat.
“I can’t what?” His voice was low and menacing, a warning. “Hm?” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to panic as your head was starting to feel light again. “That’s what I thought. If you’re done with your tantrum, let’s get started.” You glared at him, teeth grinding together painfully. Despite everything, the fact that you just gave in so easily was what made you feel the worst. You barely put up a fight… and you know why. Because he’s right. You came up here with him because you thought he was attractive and wanted to fuck him. It’s not like you can just turn off that attraction.
“Please let me go.” You whispered, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation.
“No.”
“Then just fucking get it over with already! Do you want help? Is that it?” You reached for his pants and started working on the button, but he released your neck to pull your hands away, holding them in one hand above your head. When you swallowed thickly and turned away from him, he grabbed your neck again, but didn’t squeeze as hard as before.
“I watched you for weeks. I’m not about to rush things now.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you willed the tears away. You let out a stifled sob, biting your bottom lip when it started trembling again. His mouth was on yours suddenly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips as you tried to flinch away from him. His hand snaked down from your neck to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers in a way that was bordering on painful.
He trailed kisses over your jaw, down to your neck, then sucked the skin into his mouth, only releasing you when he was satisfied with the darkness of the bruise. Moving to a new place, he did the same thing, leaving hickeys all over your neck and down your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth. You tried to stifle the gasp, but he heard it anyway. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. His hands were pawing at your body, groping your breast and gripping your side to hold you still as you squirmed. He pulled up, looking at you through his lashes with slightly parted lips as he panted.
“Ready for the fun part?” He smirked and you thought that meant he was going to fuck you, but he kissed down your stomach until he made his way to your legs, settling between them. He pried them apart even more and eyed your sex eagerly, making your cheeks heat up.
“What are you doing?” You choked out and he tore his eyes away from your cunt to look at you.
“You thought I’d watch you play with this pretty pussy for so long and not enjoy it?” He scoffed. Before you could protest, he was leaning down and licking a long stripe up your slit. Biting your lip, you swallowed down the moans threatening to escape. He focused mostly on your hole, lapping up your arousal and fucking you with his tongue, all while groaning against you.
Moving up, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swiftly pushed a finger inside, making you jolt. Your lip was aching because of how hard you were biting it but you couldn’t risk letting out any moans.
“Please,” You whimpered, trying to push yourself up the bed. In retaliation he inserted another finger, then wrapped his other arm around your thigh, pulling you down onto his hand. “Please stop.” You cried. If anything, your begging made him work harder.
“Why? Getting close?” He smirked, barely pulling away from your clit to speak. You shook your head with a whimper as the tears finally started to fall. The thing is though… you were getting close. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone someone this talented.
“Stop...” You whined, bringing your hands down to push at his head.
“God- I can fucking feel you clenching down on my fingers. You are close aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his lashes with a glint in his eyes.
“We can’t have that though.” He said, removing his fingers and pulling away from your clit. “Not yet.”
“Why are you doing this?” You whispered, staring at his figure that was blurry with unshed tears.
“It’s nothing against you. The job leaves little time for.. personal activities… I saw an opportunity so I took it.” He all but shrugged. Instead of giving you a chance to respond, he pushed his fingers back in and sucked your clit into his mouth again. As his fingers curled against your walls in places that previous partners— and yourself— haven’t even discovered, you couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore.
“There you go.” He cooed. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your clit before flicking his tongue against it.
“Stop.” You whined. In response, all he did was force another finger inside. You don’t know how he knew, but the second you neared the edge again, he pulled back, making you whine.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked, slowly curling his fingers against your walls, but keeping his mouth away from your clit. “No boyfriend, no one night stands… Just you and your vibrator.” He chuckled, making your face heat up. “You really like that thing. It’s cute.”
“Fuck you.” There wasn't even a hint of malice in your tone. Just pure embarrassment and need.
“Yeah I bet you want that too. Don’t worry, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here before getting my cock in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob and turned your head to the side as your hips started moving against his hand. “I could feel you clench down on my fingers… dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth again.
As you squirmed under him, you gripped the sheets hard enough to make your fingers hurt so that you wouldn’t move your hands to his hair— knowing you would try to pull him closer rather than push him away. He continued the assault on your cunt, his mouth and fingers creating utterly vulgar sounds that completely filled the room, adding to your humiliation.
He slowed to a stop again and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from protesting. Once he knew your orgasm had faded, he slowly curled his fingers against your walls as his other hand reached down to pull out his phone. He eyed it, then set it on the bed next to your thigh.
“If you give me what I want, I can speed all this up and give you what you want.”
“You’ll let me go?” That made him chuckle.
“That’s not what you really want.” The worst part is that it wasn’t… You wanted your orgasm that he’s been teasing you with for the past few minutes.
“You still haven’t told me what you want.” You said, changing the subject.
“Right to business then. Alright.” He removed his fingers suddenly and your hips flinched forward, chasing the pleasure. “I need to know the code to disarm the alarm at your work.”
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have access to that.” You said nervously, making him sigh.
“Please don’t waste my time. Tell me and I’ll make you come. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to more… unconventional methods.” You tried not to scoff at that— how is this not already unconventional?
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m not going to do anything. All I have to do is to get you to talk, by any means necessary, and I’m very dedicated to my job. That’s why I stalked you for a couple weeks— to get to know you.” Your breath caught in your throat at the admission. How did you not notice that you were being stalked for weeks? “Unfortunately your family isn’t in the picture and you don’t really have friends��� you definitely don’t have a boyfriend. All of that really limited my options. Luckily I like a challenge.” He smirked and you waited anxiously for where he was going with this.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tortured people before. But after watching you for so long, I knew I needed to do something special. You deserve so much more than just water boarding or a beating.”
“You’re fucking sick.” You whispered, trying not to cry at the fact that this was not his worst.
“I could’ve threatened to rape you instead— obviously I still would’ve done it after I got what I wanted— but I had a feeling you’d respond better to this. So, you give me what I want and I’ll make you come, it’s as simple as that.”
“Fuck you.” You spat, making him chuckle and check the clock on the nightstand for the time.
“I’m trying to be nice, sweetheart, but if you don’t give me what I want… I will hurt you.” He condescended. “And not in a normal way— no, that would be a missed opportunity.” He leaned over you until his breath fanned your lips. “You don’t give me what I want, and I fuck your ass instead. No lube, no prep, just my fat cock splitting you open until you beg for mercy.” He said lowly. You tried not to show any outward signs of fear, but judging by the look on his face, you knew you were unsuccessful. “And I won’t give it to you. I’ll keep fucking you until you eventually pass out from the pain, but even then I still won’t stop. You’ll tell me everything I want to know and more, just to have the slightest chance of me stopping.” Your body trembled as you stared up at him, watching his gaze move all over your face as he studied you.
“Now,” He whispered, “are you going to give me what I want or am I going to have to hurt you?” Your brows furrowed as you thought, trying not to cry. Maybe he’s bluffing? “Is this really worth getting raped in the ass over?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. When you remained silent, paralyzed in fear, he hummed and pursed his lips, then leaned back up. He flipped you onto your stomach and when you heard the zipper on his pants go down, you started thrashing. He placed a firm hand on your upper back to hold you down as he freed his cock.
“Wait!” You yelled, when you felt his length brush your ass. “Wait— please, I- I’ll tell you, just please don’t.” You cried, anxiously awaiting his next move. “Please— I’m sorry, Jackson. I’ll tell you.” You rushed out, breathing growing more labored as panic and fear consumed you.
“If you lie, I’ll know, and I’ll do it anyway.”
“I- I won’t, I promise.” You whimpered as he picked up the phone, then a moment later, held it to his ear.
“Yeah.. Are you ready for it?” You listened anxiously. “Go ahead.” He said, talking to you now. You told him and he repeated it back into the phone. “Good. Alright, let me know.” He tossed the phone back onto the bed.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You were starting to relax now that the threat wasn’t there anymore, but calming down made you feel all of the other emotions at the same time— anger for being stupid enough to fall for his charm, shame for enjoying the way he was pleasuring you, guilt for betraying your work so easily, and worst of all, desperation. You were desperate for more, and both of you knew that.
You let out a choked sob and he removed his hand from your back but you didn’t move, you just buried your face into the sheets and cried.
“You’re a crier?” He said, almost disgusted. “Those are the worst people to work with— actually I shouldn’t say people. It’s the women who cry, and usually before I even get to the fun part. The men that do cry at least wait until after they’ve been tortured for a while.” You couldn’t respond, not when you were focusing so hard on trying to take in oxygen through sporadic breaths with your face in the sheets. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing on your lungs anymore.
“God- will you quit it already?” He snapped, making you flinch. He suddenly leaned over you, his cock laying heavy on your ass. He brushed your hair back to see your face, then roughly grabbed a fistful to turn your head enough to make eye contact. “As long as you didn’t lie, you have nothing to worry about… So what’s the problem?” You knew he wasn’t genuinely asking.
“I- I,” You couldn’t hold down the sob crawling up your throat. “Please don’t. Please— I gave you what you want.” You whimpered, making him raise his brows, as if to say, really?
“Have you ever been raped before?” He suddenly asked, making you let out another quiet sob.
“No…”
“You’ll live.” He shrugged, as if that made it better. “Sure you’ll think about this every day for the rest of your life and you’ll hate yourself for craving it again, but you’ll survive.” You let out a stifled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “You won’t even hate me more than you’ll hate yourself, you know why? Cause all I did was give you what you want. You’re the sick fuck who actually enjoyed being raped.”
“Please stop.” You whimpered, wincing when he tightened his grip on your hair.
“I bet you really do want me to rape your ass. Are you just being coy, baby?” He cooed and you violently shook your head to disagree. “Let me ask again.” He reached down and shoved two fingers in your cunt. “Do you want me to rape your ass?” He repeated, barking out a laugh when you sobbed harder, but clenched down on his fingers. “God you’re fucking disgusting. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, who would want to date a girl who practically belongs in a brothel for fucks sake?” He started moving his fingers inside you, making you choke on a moan.
“Actually— not even that. You’re not worth any amount of money. You belong on the streets, just a free use whore for anyone who needs a warm hole to fuck, isn’t that right?”
“Fuck you.” You muttered weakly.
“Did I strike a nerve?” He cooed mockingly, curling his fingers inside you just a little bit faster. “Surely with a body like this you must be used to people objectifying you by now.” You weren’t. At least not to your face.
“How’d you even get your job, huh? You fuck your boss?” You bit the inside of your cheek to try and ground yourself, not let your emotions consume you. “Did this run through little cunt get you a promotion? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure the only reason you were hired was so that your coworkers could have a pretty little thing to look at everyday.” He snickered. Even though you knew that everything he was saying wasn’t true, tears were still brimming in your eyes from his words.
“Sluts like you are the worst kind. No one likes it when you play hard to get, that defeats the whole purpose of being a whore.” He removed his fingers from your cunt, making you hiss at the sudden loss. When he leaned back up and picked up his phone, you didn’t turn to face him, you just remained still.
“Lucky girl. Thank you for your cooperation.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Now that business is done, I’d say we’re long overdue for some pleasure, wouldn’t you? Get up on your knees.” He moved off of you to let you rise up, but quickly stopped you. “Did I say on your hands? You don’t deserve to be fucked with dignity.” He roughly shoved your head forward until you landed against the mattress with a grunt. “You deserve to be fucked like the whore you are. Now stick that ass up, you don’t want me to tell you again.” You adjusted your position on your knees and felt the bed shift as he moved behind you.
“Jackson, please.” You whimpered, turning your head to the side so he could hear you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He ignored you and lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the thick head through your folds, spreading your arousal.
“You better hope your whore pussy isn’t too loose because if you can’t make me feel good, I’ll have to use a different hole.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed the tip of his cock against your asshole, making you stiffen. He quickly went back down to your cunt, then applied some pressure. When your walls finally gave in to the intrusion, you cried out at the stretch and tried to move away, making him grab your hips to hold you still.
“Ah, ah, ah— keep that fucking back arched.” He placed a hand on you and pushed down until your lower back was bent uncomfortably. “That’s it. Good little slut… Ready for more?” Before you could answer, his hips were snapping forward until he was flush with your ass, making you all but scream at the sudden force. Because of his hand holding you down, you couldn’t move away and the pressure of his hips against your ass was bending your back almost painfully.
“Huh… Tighter than I thought it’d be.” He said, almost to himself. And you had to keep from saying ‘no fucking shit’ because of the way he was stretching your walls to their limit. He started up a slow, but hard pace, dragging out, then snapping back in. Each thrust made you scream and he moved his hand from your hip to push your face into the sheets.
“Jesus- shut the fuck up already. You may want everyone in this damn hotel to know that you’re being fucked stupid right now, but I don’t. My line of work requires discretion.” Your moans quieted a bit and he let go of your head and leaned back up.
“And just so we’re on the same page, sweetheart, if you attract any attention and someone comes to the room, I’ll kill them and then you. I don’t need you alive for this part so you better do everything you can to convince me not to break your fucking neck.” He growled and you let out a muffled sob. His thrusts sped up, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you’d stay quiet.
“God- you fucking love this shit, don’t you? I might even have to keep you as a full time fuck toy.” You whimpered at the horrible thought, even though it made your clit throb. “Yeah I bet you’d like that too. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything else but pleasing me— no job, no social life, I’d take the burden completely off your shoulders and let you live the way you were meant to; as a worthless little fleshlight, desperate for cock anywhere you can get it.”
You’ve never been talked to like this before. Sure, past partners have indulged in some of your kinks, but never to this extent, and never this well. You could feel your mind slipping away from you too. The longer he fucked you, the harder it was to remember why you didn’t want him to.
“Are you on birth control?” He suddenly asked. You were confused about why he would care about being safe now, when you’re already in the middle of the act.
“No…?”
“Of course you’re not. God it’s like you’re fucking begging to be knocked up.” You suddenly realized how this night was going to end and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured on your head.
“W-wait,” You started lifting yourself into your elbows, but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you down, keeping you there as he shushed you.
“There's no need to panic. It’s your own fault for not protecting yourself.” You let out a choked sob and he pushed you down harder into the bed to muffle your sounds. “And anyway, this is what you were made for so how about you just stop fucking whining and be a good little breeding bitch.” You were crying again now, almost hyperventilating into the sheets, but he didn’t let up, he just held you down harder and fucked you faster.
“I can’t say I necessarily want kids myself but maybe every nine months I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder— let you really fulfill your life’s purpose.” You couldn’t tell if this was a meaningless threat or not. “I’ll still whore you out during the nine months though, don’t worry. I’m not completely cruel.” He snickered. His thrusts were growing more erratic now and his breathing was getting more and more labored.
“Don’t you like that idea, baby? I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and let all of those disgusting men that you pretend you’re above have a turn with whichever hole they want. You’ll be so fucking covered in come by the end of it that you won’t even recognize yourself.” He roughly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back uncomfortably, making you cry out. “I’d still have my fun with you though, don’t worry. No matter how many cocks you take in those pathetic little fuck holes, you’ll still be mine.” The softness of his tone was a harsh contrast to his words, making your head spin. The speed in which he pulled out and flipped you over made your head spin even more though. He leaned back over you and grabbed your cheeks with one hand while the other positioned his cock at your entrance again, pushing back in.
“Tell me you’re mine.” He said quietly and your brows furrowed as you looked away. “Tell me, baby. Tell me this whore body is mine to use however I want.” You whined loudly and he gripped your face tighter.
“I’m yours.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling. He jerked his hand back and slapped you across the cheek before placing it on your neck and squeezing hard. You looked away from him as a scared whimper escaped you.
“What was that?”
“I’m yours! I- I’m yours…” You sobbed out. His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk.
“Tell me you’re only good for being my cocksleeve.”
“I- I’m only good for being your cocksleeve.” You whimpered.
“Tell me you’re my breeding bitch whose only purpose is to make babies and take cock.” He growled, grip tightening on your neck. You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, then shook your head. “You know it’s true so fucking tell me.” He warned, pushing down on your windpipe until you gasped for air.
“I’m your breeding- bitch whose only purpose is…” You were actually struggling to breathe now, barely able to get the words out, but he didn’t seem to care, “to make babies and take cock.” You wheezed, making him loosen his grip. You gasped in a breath as your chest heaved.
“That’s right. Now… I know I said if you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want… and I can feel how your pathetic cunt’s about to cream all over my cock, but… like you said, your only purpose is to make babies and take cock. Breeding bitches don’t need orgasms.” The choked sob you let out was probably the worst part of all of this because it was genuine. You really were getting close and you were looking forward to that release— for one moment to just forget what was happening.
“No- no, please.” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears for an entirely new, more humiliating, reason. “Please, Jackson, I’ve been good. I- I did what you said— I gave you what you wanted.” You cried, bottom lip wobbling.
“I know, honey.” He cooed condescendingly. “Other than the insolence and fighting back, you’ve been so good, haven’t you?” Your frown deepened at that.
“Please, I’m sorry— I’m sorry, just please let me come,” Your voice had a whiny edge to it that you couldn’t control.
“You poor thing… Look at me, baby, there you go.” Once you were staring into those hypnotizing blue eyes, he continued, voice much lower now. “I want you… to remember this moment. I want you to remember the way you begged your rapist to let you come.” You swallowed down a whimper, throat bobbing under his hand.
“The next time you think you’re anything more than a pair of tits and a set of holes, think of this moment.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your trembling lip, trying not to cry. No matter how much you wished to deny it though, his words had you barreling toward your orgasm. “Do you understand?” He asked softly and you nodded, making his grip tighten on your neck.
“Yes.” You whispered, voice shaking.
“Good. Now I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining.” He said, pulling out, then flipping you back onto your knees and pushing your head down as he filled you again. He was chasing his orgasm now— his thrusts growing more frenzied and desperate, quiet grunts getting just a little bit louder. He brought his other hand up to join the one on your back, using it to hold himself up and keep you down at the expense of your lungs and breathing.
“God- I can feel your pathetic little fuck hole clenching down on my cock. Are you close?” All you could do to respond was make a muffled noise against the sheets. “You better not fucking come.” He spat. “You don’t want that pretty neck broken do you?” He asked, softer, making you let out a loud sob.
He was pounding you ruthlessly now, hips smacking your ass so hard you’d probably bruise. His balls hitting your clit with every thrust made you jolt each time and it was getting harder to stave off your orgasm. His movements started to slow but became rougher, almost pushing you forward from the intensity. When he finally stilled with a low groan, you whined and shifted uncomfortably. You could feel hot come filling you up with each twitch of his cock and every time he tried to push a little deeper, your back arched even more, to the point where it was starting to hurt, rather than just feel uncomfortable. He let out a heavy breath and pulled out, then sat back on his heels as he pulled your folds apart.
Hour two
(I know it’s cut kind of awkwardly but this one shot turned into 18k words so I had to cut it somewhere skdhdk)
I have some questions rq. Pls answer🙏🏻
I was maybe thinking of saying “hour 1” etc instead of “part 1” for each part since.. yk it takes place over the course of serveral hours lol. Is that dumb? Should I just keep it as “part 1”?
Also I chose the title when the fic was only the length of part 1 and im not sure if I should keep it or not so lmk if you think I should make it something that relates to the whole fic rather than just one comment in the first part lol
Taglist (join here)
@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (didn’t let me tag ->) @deceitfuldevout @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @aviamulier @xxorazz
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a thought i have after rewatching red eye: jack abducting you because you're the daughter of an important politician. as a way to show your father that you aren't safe, and to enjoy himself, he films himself forcing you to cum over and over again until you're just a whimpering mess.
oh you sick twisted little genius
warnings: kidnapping, ransom/bribery, forced orgasms/overstimulation, humiliation, bondage
"Please, just tell me she's alright," the man begged through the cracked and muffled audio of the phone call. "Tell me she's alive."
"Of course she's alive," Jackson promised, glancing over at you with a grin, "she's better than ever."
He almost got distracted by the sight of you, tied to the bed with the vibrator pressed against your clit. You'd been there for the better part of an hour, and you hadn't stopped shaking the whole time, screaming and sobbing into your gag-- but the puddle under you on the sheet spoke for itself. "C-can I talk to her?" your father asked.
"Oh, I don't think she wants to talk to you right now," Jackson purred, "she's... a little tied up at the moment. You can talk to her yourself once you do what I've asked."
"But I--"
He rolled his eyes and tossed the phone away, approaching the bedside slowly. He watched you for a moment, tears streaming from your eyes as you convulsed uncontrollably. "Ready to behave, sweetheart?" he asked, but you weren't able to respond anyways. He reached down and switched the vibe off, watching the way you stilled and started to catch your breath-- though he still caught you shivering with aftershocks for a moment as he sat down between your legs on the bed.
He bit his lip as he moved the vibrator away and set it aside, getting a good look at your soaked little pussy-- he couldn't help but reach and pull your lips apart and get a better look at that pretty hole, so desperate to be filled.
"I think we've finally fixed your attitude problem," Jackson noticed with a grin as you just laid there limply, letting him touch you. "And I bet you're extra sensitive now, right?"
He just lightly touched your clit, watching your whole body jump in response as your eyes went wide open. You groaned against the gag but he couldn't make out any words.
"Shh, it's alright, I'll leave that alone for now," he promised, starting to undo his trousers, "but I bet you can still come again just from being fucked."
You whined, trying to move your hips away with what little room you had, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Oh? You want this back instead?" he presumed, picking up the vibrator again. You shook your head feverishly, whimpering and starting to cry again. "Okay, if you're sure. I can leave you here for another hour, get some lunch-- or you can be a good girl for me."
You didn't react for a second, looking straight at him, and he reached up to hook his finger in the gag and pull it out of your mouth. "Please," you began, your voice a little hoarse, "please..."
"'Please' what?" he pressed.
"Please... fuck me..." you whispered.
He tilted his head, putting a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Fuck me! Please!" you screamed in frustration, finally learning the rules of Jackson's game. "I want you to-- I want you! Just, please please fuck me!"
He grinned and leaned down to the floor, picking up the phone where he'd dropped it-- still on the line. "You catch all that, daddy dearest?"
You were already flushed but you looked mortified then, and Jackson had to laugh at your expression. "You sick fuck," your father growled on the other end of the line.
"No rush, pops, she's having a great time," Jackson promised as you cried harder, "she may not even wanna come back once you've finished the job!"
He put the phone down again, pretty sure your dad was going to hang up and hold up his end of the bargain now-- but if not, there would be plenty for him to listen to.
"I knew you wanted it," he announced to you proudly, pulling his cock out and rubbing the leaking head right up against your hole. "Bet with how many times you've come I'll just slide right in..."
He was right about that, but you were still so tight inside-- he could even feel you still flexing just a bit after coming so much, your poor cunt still trying to cope with what he'd put it through. You whined as he filled you, but your back arched, too; of course a needy slut like you couldn't ever be satisfied.
"Fuck," he groaned, "I hope he takes his fucking time getting that money transferred... I want lots more time to play with you, sweetheart."
#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner dark fic#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut
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Coldfire - Pt. II
Read Part I here!
Pairing: Jackson Rippner x F! Reader
Fandom: Red Eye (2005)
Summary: Intent on turning you into his plaything, Jackson "takes care" of you after you wake up in his hotel room.
Warnings: SMUT, non-con (prev) and dub-con, sexual violence, kidnapping, power imbalance, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, biting, blood, violence, humiliation, degredation, dirty talk, pet names, hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics. This is a dark!fic and a tad disgusting. Read at your own discretion.
WC: 6511
Pain. It was the first sensation you felt. The first and, for a moment, the only thing that existed.
Your skull pounded with a dull, resounding ache that seemed to trail down your spine, as if someone taking a sledgehammer to the back of your head. The pain radiated from your spine to your shoulders, your limbs, shot to the core of your stomach and settled between your sticky thighs.
Next, came the soft brush of a pillow against your face, your head lolling against the stuffed fabric, your body weighing so heavy that you thought you might sink into the bed.
The pillow smelled clean as you grasped feebly at the cotton sheets, deciding to ball the fabric in your fists because it grounded you, because it seemed to be one of the only things that were tangible in this half-awake reality of pure, almost numbing pain.
But the spice of the cinnamon that tickled your nose churned hot coals in your gut, stirred a fire deep within your core. Familiar, oh so familiar…
Voices came to you, distant and well-mannered and urgent, drilling themselves through the pockets of pain in your skull.
As a thin, white light began to filter past your haze, you wondered if these were the voices of angels, calling you to Heaven. Were they always this obnoxious?
They were taunting you, more like. That must have been it, you realised as your eyelids peeled back only for white-hot fire to singe your retinas.
Maybe this truly was the punishment for pledging your soul to violence
The light came from a crack between thick, black curtains, haphazardly drawn across a massive window frame. The light bled across your blurred vision, but colours and shapes were beginning to form around it now, and though the voices seemed to heighten in intensity, you could now discern your surroundings as some private room, the overhead blessedly off and the lighting dim.
A hotel, it seemed, as the gleam of white plastic winked at you in the shred of sunlight. A mint, on a pillow.
Your mouth watered, but your lips were dry and your reach clumsy as you tried to swipe up the mint. Your stomach roiled with an empty kind of nausea.
Candy clutched in quivering hand, your fingers stilled as you undid the wrapper. The voices were clearer, but quieter now.
“... crime scene…” Pain. “… terrorist act ….” Pain. “… killer on the loose…” Crinkling plastic. “… university …” Why was this mint so damned hard to open? “… physicist, Doctor Cal…” Was that the ticking of a clock? “… shot with .380 ACP…” More pain.“… total lockdown…” The mint left a sharp kiss on your tongue.“… chaos...” Your blood ran cold as you recognised the taste, recalled the heat of the breath that had raked across your face…
The voices were interrupted by the click of a lock, and you startled, images of a spinning bathroom and bright, white fireworks racing through your aching skull as you buried the wrapper of the mint beneath one of the pillows, as if you were a child caught with their hand in the candy drawer.
As the door swung open, and a soft whistling filled the room, you rolled your head to the side, glimpsing the time on the alarm clock.
4:13.
For a moment, your muddled brain thought that perhaps he wouldn’t see you; your vision hedged where the skin of his neck came into view. Your breath hitched in your chest and your skull pounded, and you watched as he removed the black blazer as if he were coming home from work, whistle slowly fading from his lungs. A heavy sigh made his chest rise and fall beneath his white dress shirt, the collar stained in red.
The scent of iron, sweat and sandalwood came to you; you had breathed against that collar, you had buried your face in the warmth of his chest and tucked your head beneath the hard line of his jaw.
Your mouth watered around the mint as you recalled the chalky pill he’d placed under your tongue, shushing you and petting your hair and lulling you to sleep with a voice like silk.
The man folded his blazer and tucked it beneath the flashing screen of the TV – the source of the voices, you ascertained – and after rifling through his pockets, he placed upon it a hotel keycard, a bloodied tissue, a Ruger LCP. .380.
The familiar, metal clang of a buckle sounded, and he loosed his belt from its loops, coiling it beside the Ruger. Cold danced along your thighs, and you felt the ghost of a burn along your stinging flesh. You realised you weren’t wearing anything underneath your skirt.
He reached in the pocket of his slacks, leaning slightly as if to fetch something particularly irksome from their depths, and added a lace garment and a loop of dark fabric to the strange pile of items.
Everything dawned on you at once, weighing so heavy on your fatigued limbs that you thought for one moment you really would sink into the bed, slammed against your pounding skull as breath poured into aching lungs and the mint caught just in time between your back molars. You remembered hiding that Ruger and your holster-garter to the toilet-paper dispenser in a bathroom with navy blue stalls. You remembered lace panties behind ripped from your thighs as he shoved you against the bathroom counter.
Your eyes squinted, narrowing against the harsh light of the TV now to see cameras pulling back on footage of the university, cop cars with flashing red and blue lights and squealing sirens, listened to the droning voice of the newscaster announce the harrowing details of the death of the target you’d failed to kill.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” A perky yet soft tone innerved your aching limbs, and your head stirred against the cinnamon of his shampoo and the cotton of the pillow.
“Fuck,” you groaned.
“And still thinking of the fun we had…” he chuckled as he approached the end of the bed. You wanted to land one good punch to his smug face, knock out his perfect white teeth. Maybe when whatever drugs he’d given you were gone from your system, provided he didn’t kill you before then.
“Does this mean I’m fired?” Your voice came raspy from your dry throat as you shifted, a lightning bolt of pain seeming to bring every neuron alive with white fire as you lifted your head slightly to look at him.
Jackson leaned down, resting the palms of his hands against the bedframe and smiling at you. “That depends,” he said, and you lowered your head back to the pillow as you rolled the dissolving mint on your tongue.
“On?”
“On how well you behave.”
“What do you want from me, Rippner?” You almost whimpered.
He tutted. “I may have to knock points for your lack of professionalism. That’s now how you speak to your boss.”
Your head hurt too much for this childish nonsense.
“And how may I be of service, sir?” You tried to force the sarcasm past your tired tone but you were drained.
“Good girl.” Those two words stirred the coals of that fire within you, making your sticky, cold thighs squirm. And that damned smile disappeared from view as he righted himself, and circled round to your side of the bed.
“I’m here to take care of you,” he told you, and the mattress sank beneath his weight as he took a seat, your nails digging into the fabric of the cover as if to keep yourself from slipping off. “And before you even think of screaming… remember what happened last time.” He brushed a lock of hair from your eyes with a surprising delicateness.
His words seemed oddly nice for a terrorist, but you weren’t fooled. There was a darkness that you could hear now beneath his silk tone. One you cursed yourself for not recognising before.
“What a relief,” you murmured into the pillow. This time, your sarcasm thankfully came through.
Warm fingers peeled at the tops of your stockings, and your knees rose instinctively, but he gave you a warning look that froze you in place – not in fear, but in a strange excitement.
“Don’t you want to feel clean?” he asked, as he peeled the thick fabric from your legs, cold racing along your flesh.
You didn’t think that you’d ever feel clean after being introduced to his sinful touch and piercing stare.
“I just want a hot bath and a very long extension cord.”
“One thing at a time, sweetheart…”
Jackson paused when the stocking rolled down to your heel, and the sharp sound of a zipper met your ears. He slipped the heel and stocking off with gentle fingers. Wisps of chestnut hair fell across his forehead as he admired your bare skin. What was he doing, playing boyfriend with you?
“Where are we?” you asked, wishing to fill the silence that seemed all too comfortable. The news on the TV made it sound like you’d just woken up in your condo, only extremely hungover.
“A hotel.”
As his fingers rolled the other stocking down, you had the brief urge to kick him with your heel.
“Where is the hotel?”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he said, in a half-exasperated, half soothing tone. “Just let me take care of you.” Your heel was cast aside, and the urge was gone.
The mint clicked against your teeth in the silence, and it burned your throat as you swallowed. A hand ran up the bare flesh of your calf, prying your knees slightly apart. Your heart raced in your chest, skull pounding, flashes of heat racing beneath your flesh and icy hooks sinking into the deepest fibres of your being as his gaze met yours between your thighs.
Coldfire.
You wet your lips with your tongue, thinking that for a moment, with his bright eyes and his parted lips and his hair just a little bit messed, he looked almost cute like this. For a terrorist and stalker and serial killer, that was.
Like you were one to talk.
“Careful looking at me like that.” A smirk curled the corner of his lip, and the strange innocence of his expression vanished. “I don’t know if you can handle a Round Two.”
Why did he have to ruin the moment by opening his smarmy fucking mouth, you thought, but the throbbing heat between your legs wished for other things.
And what moment could you have possibly imagined? Fuck, you were delusional.
And before you could fire back with a retort, the smirk fell from his face and icy gaze devoured you. You shivered beneath his touch as he pried your legs apart, coming up between them like a predator, eyes locked on his prey. Like a mouse pierced by snake’s venom, paralysis seeped into every pore.
A hot breath swept across your lashes in the second that he spared your soul from his gaze, twin blues running down your flushed face. Though his movements and touch were gentle, his mouth pressed to yours firmly, pulling a slight moan from your lungs. Your hand reached upwards to curl the fabric of his shirt into a fist, but he forced your wrist down. You shattered a gasp onto his tongue at the sudden, sharp movement, the bed hinges creaking from the force exerted. His fingers wove through yours, curling round your knuckles and squeezing ‘til your flesh turned white. His weight sunk onto the delicate blood vessels of your opposite wrist, your pulse hammering against his palm.
Jackson was quick to force his tongue inside your mouth, and you jolted as the remnants of the mint hit the back of your throat. Unable to do anything about it, you bit down on his lip, hard, and he growled into the kiss. Teeth grazed your tongue as you rolled it forward, and he pulled away, spitting the mint onto the sheets. His icy eyes flashed with hellfire but your body sank with relief into the mattress, tension leaving your body.
“Wouldn’t want you to choke,” he uttered darkly, fingers releasing yours to glide across your neck, shivers running down your throat as his palm once again found your pulse, fingertips brushing the beginnings of your scalp.
“Did I tell you that you could have that?” he demanded, the bright of his eyes chased by the dark.
“It was complimentary.” You sneered up at him.
Hands swept beneath your spine, pulling you upward, and the world teetered on its axis and pressure mounted your skull. Your legs wrapped around his waist, nails seeking purchase in his back to ground yourself, a moan hitching in your chest as your hips rolled forward and your bare pussy sank around the outline in his trousers. The jolt that travelled through you, from bottom to top, was perhaps the only thing that kept you from passing out as you felt the weight of the drugs tug at your limbs. Something peeled off from the back of your skull and you hissed, pawing at blood-crusted locks of hair.
“No, don’t touch that,” he told you, almost concerned. With you now firmly straddling his lap, and his legs folded beneath him, he gently pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own. Eyes narrowed in concentration, and he bit his lip. “The bleeding stopped.” A small, white bandage was pulled away, tape burning your scalp briefly as it tugged at a few threads of your hair, and your eyes tore from his to examine the almost black crimson on the white material.
Was that all? It hurt so much.
Noticing your wince of pain, he sighed, and your arm hooked with desperation round his neck as he leaned forward to reach to the end table, gravity tugging at your spine.
You jumped, nails scraping his back, as a bottle of pills was tossed in your lap, hollowing your skirt around your thighs, and he righted himself with a glass of water in hand.
You released your hold on him to accept the water between shaking fingers, and he shook out two pills of Advil on his palm. Wedging one between his thumb and forefinger, he pressed it gently to your lips.
“Wash your hands,” you told him as you looked him up and down, at the blood that dappled his white collar and was still smeared slightly at the corner of one dark brow, and he rolled his eyes, forcing the pill past your teeth. He helped tip the glass of water to your lips, and repeated the process with the other pill.
“My pain didn’t seem to stop you before,” you said once he’d put aside the water glass and pills. “Why are you playing so nice, all of sudden?”
One hand landed on the bare flesh of your waist, slipping beneath your shirt, and the other brushed another lock of hair from your eyes.
“I told you I’d take care of you,” he said.
Before you’d the chance to respond, he was tugging your shirt over your arms, and you shut your eyes, the collar passing your lashes and crest of your skull. Lucky for him, you weren’t wearing a bra, and for the first time, his gaze landed on the swell of your breasts, your nipples hardening in the sudden cold. His lips parted and his pupils dilated.
“You have a strange way of doing that,” you remarked, breath coming shallow from your chest. Your fingers traced the collar of his shirt, still slightly damp with blood, and began undoing buttons as a sly smile crossed your face, making it all the way until his shirt came apart and your eyes widened at the sight of the dark line of hair disappearing past the hem of his trousers. Your curiosity would someday kill you if he didn’t.
“Shhh. Just rest, now…” his words confused you as he lowered your spine back to the soft bedding, but his voice melted like honey into every pore, and the mattress welcomed you. Breath pooling at the base of your neck, wet lips placed a kiss to the notch of skin in between your collarbone.
You understood now, and you found yourself with no complains, shutting your eyes and allowing his hot breath to trail down your sternum, arching your back when he reached your stomach. His nails dug into your waist, hands fitting perfectly in the grooves above your hips like you’d been made for him.
You shivered, remembering what he’d felt like inside you.
Lips brushed your navel, nose tickling your soft flesh, and his tongue began to lap at the juices that had dried on your abdomen, tasting you. His fingers hooked in the hem of your skirt. It was the only fabric between you, and even then, it had pulled taut round your spread legs. Another zipper came undone, and the checkered fabric was cast aside, sounding like it landed in a heap somewhere on the floor. Cold swept across the heat of your cunt, and lips slowly ghosted down the length of your pelvis, burying his nose in the crook of your thigh and inhaling deep.
Your elbow had stirred, fingers coming to rest on the wet streaks his tongue had left across your stomach, though not quite reaching him, for your body still seemed to move slower than the world around you. Yet, he was almost too slow; he was taking his time, and you needed him like you’d never needed anything before. You whined out your disapproval, and he nipped at the pocket of your thigh as if to correct your behaviour.
And instead of finally giving you what you desired, he began to trail kisses down your inner thigh, hands following his movements. Your eyes blinked open in confusion, and you winced slightly in pain as you craned your neck to look down at him. Though the pillows were elevated, you sought a clearer view. What did this bastard think he was doing?
Feeling faint, you sank back into the pillow and succumbed to his teasing, a soft sigh hanging on your lips.
“Beg me for it.” His command came gruff against your skin, his tone akin to that which he’d used when he’d come deep inside you. You could still feel the last of his hot seed dribbling out of you, almost as if innerved by his words.
You chuffed out a laugh, and your head spun. “Yeah, right…” you murmured, but jolted as he placed another nip to your soft flesh. An electric current seemed to flow from his teeth through every fibre of your being, every synapse in your brain. You were too easy, you realised, as you relaxed and huffed out another sigh.
“Oh, please, Mr. Rippner… please take care of me…”
“Mm… what’s that, now? What do you need?”
“You. I need you, fucking Hell,” you breathed as you felt him smile against your thigh, the faint stubble of his jaw scratching the delicate flesh. “Please, I need to feel your tongue against me. I need you inside me… please…”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take care of me… clean me… fuck me – I don’t care at this point.”
He tutted. “How unprofessional of you, wanting your boss to fuck you. That ought to knock off some points, for sure.”
“Stop being a goddamn tease,” you groaned, rolling your hips against empty air. Your fingers slid down your slicked pelvis to try and sate the itch between your thighs, deciding you’d do it yourself at this point. He swatted your hand away, and your knuckles burned.
“Who’s the boss here?” His breath hissed against your thigh, heat trailing down your flesh with a shiver and his nails digging in again.
“You are.” You pouted your lip, shame creeping in but you didn’t care.
“Good girl.” The praise, uttered in such a guttural tone, made your core clench around nothingness, and his tongue began to light a trail of fire up your sensitive flesh, until his nose struck the groove of your thigh again and then his hot breath finally huffed against your folds. “So desperate for attention, so wet for your boss you’re wanting to touch yourself already. What a good fucking slut.”
Then why not let me? you thought with bitter longing, but didn’t dare utter the words. His teeth were currently hovering over a part of yourself that you didn’t particularly want bruised.
Though, on second thought…
“Come onnnnn,” you whined. “Get on with it.”
The sting of teeth landed on the lip of your pussy, and you chimed out a giggle as another wave of excitement crashed against you. “You’re so predictable…” you teased, words slurring as the heat of arousal pounded hot in your skull. The pain, you realised, was beginning to slip farther and farther from you, like a red ribbon caught in the vicious wind.
“Hey.” You jolted again as his palm struck your pussy, sensitive flesh stinging but your core clenching again with need. “Look at me.”
Your eyes fluttered open and you looked down at him, the burn of his coldfire eyes igniting something inside you that threatened to spill like lava from every pore, every fibre. You breathed heavy and smiled, admitting, “All right, maybe not so predictable.”
“Remind me, sweetheart, what do you need right now?”
“You.” A whimper was cast to the air like a prayer, and you giggled again, hair spilling around you as you laid back.
He placed a gentle kiss right on the lip of your pussy, as if to make it all better. His nose tickled the slick parting of your cunt, and you trembled.
“Good girl.” The heat of his breath raked your folds, and you nearly lost it, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shoulder.
Finally, the wet swipe of his tongue sent you into overdrive, dragging with a deliberate leisure along your slick parting. Your back arched, shaking, into the sheets, and your fingers sought his hair, threading through the strands as you squirmed under the increasing pressure of his tongue. Not teasing anymore, it was clear he wanted to devour you. And it was clear you wouldn’t last very long.
Like some kind of starved animal, he lapped up your juices, fingers forcing your legs further apart and stirring a squeal from your diaphragm, a noise which only spurred him on, teeth gently grazing your clit and his tongue circling your entrance to draw every last bit of sweet nectar from you. Thick fingers ran along your outer thighs, palms rubbing at your hips as if to encourage you on.
Stopping to catch his breath, he groaned, panting against your trembling folds, “You taste so good with my cum inside you, babygirl.”
“Fuck,” you breathed, hips bucking against his face, the stubble of his jaw lightly burning your skin. A knot tightened deep in your belly, walls clenching. He chuckled at your enthusiasm, which only sent you further over the edge, one hand cupping your ass as his tongue sought the taste of you back out, nose nuzzling into your clit. A myriad of sensations slammed into you all at once.
“Jack…” you moaned, tugging a fistful of his hair.
He stilled just as you felt yourself ready to tumble over that familiar precipice, thighs trembling around him, back fully arched as if to reach for the heavens while hellfire brewed beneath your flesh. Breaths came quick against you, nails sunk deep enough into your skin to well blood around his nails, and he growled, the sound seeming to reverberate through your core.
“Jackson,” he corrected, tone thick with darkness. Lust. Wrath. All things sinful.
“J – Jackson.” You would say anything if it meant feeling his tongue against you again, if it meant some sort of release from the pain that still lingered beneath the surface of the pleasure he gave you.
“Mm.” Approving, he placed a kiss to your clit. Your nails raked along his scalp and the bucking of your hips became more erratic, so with his hands he pinned your waist down, a huff of fiery breath trailing up the cold of your stomach. You squirmed, desperate for release, as he prodded at your entrance, and you couldn’t take it anymore as his nails dug against your ribcage and his palms flattened against your stomach, and your walls finally clenched around his tongue as it slipped inside.
You fell limp under him, your head tipping back to the white ceiling, your lips still parted from chanting his name like a sordid prayer, stars exploding across your vision and your skull inundated by a fire that cleansed the pain and brought with it only bliss.
You heard him swallow against a dry throat, and you lifted your starry gaze to watch as he swept his tongue along his upper lip. Bright eyes darkened by lust met yours, and you relaxed your hold on his hair, watching as chestnut locks fell around his face, clung to the sweat of his forehead. A few threads that sprung awry were limned by the blue light of the TV, the carnage that continued its broadcast. His shirt hung open, exposing the bare sheen of his chest. Your juices coated his nose and freckled cheeks, his sharp jaw framed by your thighs as they closed slowly around him. You’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“So, did I get an A?” You huffed out teasingly, and though you hadn’t thought it possible, his eyes darkened another fraction, shards of shattered ice sharpening like knives around the pools of ink black that bled into pale irises. Your sides burned where he dug his nails in, and you added, “A participation award, at least?”
Grabbing hold of your hips, he yanked you forward, your legs hooking over his shoulders and something wicked glittering in those darkened eyes. A brief moment of panic seized you as you were tugged down from your throne of pillows. His flushed lips were parted, a bead of your nectar dribbling down his chin. Looking more akin to a wild animal in that moment than he did a man, you felt the unravelled knot begin to weave into something dangerous in your gut.
“You think this is over?” he demanded, practically snarling, lips pulling in a wide grin round his white teeth. He began placing kisses and nips to your trembling thighs, ghosted a shuddering breath over the heat between them. He already had you moaning from how sensitive you were. “It’s not over ‘til I say it is, sweetheart.”
He’d told you not to scream, so you had to clamp a hand over your mouth, cries muffled by your sticky palm that smelled of mint and saliva and the faint trace of sex. He attacked you, tongue and teeth and all, while you were still coming down from your first orgasm. Yet, your hips still bucked against him, and he kept tugging you closer, grinding the slit of your cunt against his face, suckling and nipping at the delicate folds and finally forcing his tongue back inside you. Your other hand found its way back into his hair, clutching the messy strands as if your life depended on it.
You were quite certain at this point that he was trying to kill you.
Finally, as if in frustration, he hooked a finger inside you, reaching places his tongue couldn’t, and you bit down on your hand, rolling your hips madly against him despite the fatigue that weighed on every limb. Your bliss rolled over you in white-hot waves, in shivers of burning cold that seemed to electrify your skull.
Coldfire.
“Come for me one more time, baby,” he urged you, trailing sloppy, wet kisses up your stomach, gliding his weight over you to witness the look on your face as he worked his finger inside you. The knot in your belly tightened and unravelled in the space of those words alone, and you shuddered out a groan as your toes curled and your thighs closed around him. You became limp again, head spinning and darkness hedging your vision.
“Good girl.” A kiss was placed at the swell of one breast, his nails running up and down your sides. Your legs were still slung over his shoulders, now hooked around the curve of his spine, and the last thing you felt before oblivion took you was the heat of his palms on your flesh, the scrape of his bloodied nails, the graze of his teeth and the softness of his lips as he worshipped your body with little praises.
---
The dip of the bed beneath his weight was what woke you, your nose still buried in the cinnamon shampoo of his pillow and your nails clutching the fabric for dear life as the mattress creaked. Pain thudded beneath your skull, but not as intensely as before, and you were able to peek open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the alarm clock.
8:56.
A wicked finger of cold ran down your bare spine as the sensation of his body heat left you, but you remained still, waiting, like an animal playing dead. Maintaining an even breath this time. Shallow, faint.
The soft padding of Jackson’s feet against the carpet disappeared round the corner, along with the low melody of his whistle, and your breath hissed slowly from your teeth. You looked to the TV, now silent, and the blazer he’d folded across the stand. Your deadly affects were gone. Of course. Why would life ever make escaping your kidnapper that easy?
You glanced then to the door, your heart picking up speed in your chest.
But did you really want it to be easy?
Deep down, you couldn’t help but feel like you had something to prove. You’d let this man beat you and best you and had found yourself wrapped around his finger, and worse yet, he’d killed your target. You’d failed your mission.
He must’ve thought you were so pathetic.
The sound of a shower turned on, past the drywall divider of the hotel. The bathroom was located directly behind you, which must have meant the kitchenette was to your right, towards the window side.
8:59.
You had to take a minute to steady yourself against the edge of the bed as you pushed yourself up, the heels of your hands shaking against the mattress. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Head lowered between your legs, your dizziness gradually ebbed, and your toes brushed the carpet.
Legs trembling beneath you, cold washing across your nude form, you slowly crept your way into the kitchen, peering down the hall to the bathroom. Light pooled beneath the doorframe and, by the sound of it, the water still buffeted the porcelain of the tub, nearly masking his idle whistle.
Your scalp itched where you’d been struck, and you resisted the urge to paw at it. You wished desperately to fetch another glass of water to sate your parched tongue. But your eyes caught on the soft glint of knives along a magnetised strip on the wall, and you moved forward, heart pounding so hard in your skull that your breath caught in your chest, for you feared you would not be able to hear your surroundings.
The knife made the scarcest sound as you pulled it from the metal strip, and trembling fingers tightened round its handle, lowering the weapon to a defensive position at your belly. Some semblance of power coursed through your veins, hot and thick and whelming, intoxicating you for one moment as you drew a shaky breath into your lungs.
Until the noise of the shower and the whistling stopped, and your blood ran cold. The drip of water began to time to the mad beating of your heart and the rest was only silence.
Thud, thud, thud, thud…
Turning on your heel, you slipped round the corner of the wall divider and held your breath as the bathroom door swung open. A shiver passed through you in your cold sweat, and though you listened intently, the blood roared too loud in your ears to hear anything more.
“Put the knife down, sweetheart.” His voice came to you just from the other side of the wall, calm and warm, like a man coaxing his lover back from the cruel grip of calamity. You startled, your breath hissing between your teeth, though his words slid over your bare skin like silk.
Jackson emerged from behind the wall, fully clothed, hair not even damp from the shower. His hands rested at his sides, no weapons – he didn’t need them, for that tongue of his was as sharp as your knife and fire raged in those icy eyes.
“You tricked me,” you breathed, collecting yourself, stalling. He was right there in front of you… you could lash out, in one quick motion and allow your blade to meet blood and bone. “You knew I’d wake up and you turned the shower on to see what I’d do.”
“Very astute. Has anyone told you you should be a detective?” he rasped sarcastically, voice darkening. Despite his gentle plea to put aside your weapon, he had that predatory look about him that made your flesh crawl with bitter cold but your insides melt like honey.
In the second he took for his eyes to rake down your nude form, you darted to the left, reckoning you could outrun him better than you could fight him, but his hand caught your ankle and you fell, squirming in his grasp. The rough carpeting scraped your bruised flesh, and kicking at his hands, as you felt his weight clamber on top of you, clutching your knife tight as you attempted to draw it back in to your chest.
“I told you not to play games, sweetheart,” he said, hands gliding over your skin. The heat of his breath raked across the small of your back.
Twisting, you didn’t kick this time, but brought the knife in a wild slash towards him; his hand captured your wrist, squeezing again at the delicate blood vessels beneath your flesh, reminding you briefly of the brush of his lips against yours. The knife slipped between your fingers, landing somewhere beside your head in the sea of hair that spilled beneath you as you stared helplessly up at him.
There was no fear in his gaze. Only darkness.
“You know what happens to bad girls…” His other hand wove its way through your hair, bunching the locks in his fist and tugging at your scalp. Magma consumed your skull, and your lips parted in a breathless cry, the oxygen forced from burning lungs. Your fingers grabbed for his jaw, his throat, but as you tightened your hold, so did he; threads of hair snapped from their roots, and for one blinding second, all you knew was pain.
And without thinking, you screamed.
Jackson’s hand came to clamp around your mouth, frantically loosed from your hair, and instinct brought your hand in a striking blur across the hollow between his jaw and his throat, where you knew you could render him unconscious. His weight teetered over you, eyes widening, a gust of breath burning your eyes as it was forced from his lungs. Blinking wildly and gritting your teeth, you struck him again, until you managed to slip from beneath him. Fingers grasped for the knife, the cool, varnished wood of the handle a welcome comfort in your palm.
As you made it to your feet, he sent his teetering weight forwards, crashing against you but you held on tight to your blade even as the breath once more escaped your lungs, and your spine hit the wall, jarred but consumed by adrenaline that set your veins alight with fire.
“Fucking bitch,” he snarled, any playfulness of his façade shattering like the icy shards of his wild eyes. From his shift in tone, you knew that there was no going back.
Nails dug into your skin, cruel and unrelenting, and his arm slammed your right wrist into the wall, attempting to disarm you.
Little did he know, you had switched the knife to your left.
The heat of his blood spilled around your knuckles where you clutched the knife, having driven it deep beneath his ribs, and his nails loosened from your flesh, a wheezing cough sputtering against your cheeks. For good measure, and smirking revenge, you wove your fingers through his hair, and brought his skull against the wall.
A trail of crimson smeared across the alabaster-white as you watched him sink to the floor, your chest heaving with ireful breath and his eyelids fluttering, working hard to focus on you as his fingers grasped feebly for the knife you’d left buried in his stomach.
“Feels great, doesn’t it?” You hissed, cocking a brow at him. Standing here, watching as he gasped for his breath and tightened his grip round the knife, unaware he was slicing the flesh of his own fingers on the blade, you felt powerful.
While your adrenaline lasted, you gathered up your clothes – or rather, what remained of them –, shimmying your skirt over your hips and tugging your shirt over your arms. Next, you began searching drawers, yanking them wildly from the TV stand. One clattered to the floor, but at this point, noise was no longer your concern.
You found your belongings and snapped your garter over your thigh, checked the chamber and mag of your Ruger to find he’d been kind enough to load fresh bullets, and hooked a finger over the torn lace panties to bring them up in the low light of the room.
“You can keep them,” you said, tossing them against his face, his eyes still wide and his jaw now clenching. Something like fury passed through the blue of his gaze, but still no fear. Strangely, both unease and a familiar dash of excitement brewed beneath your flesh.
Finally, you made a call to 911 from the room’s phone, telling the operator that there was a man who’d been stabbed and desperately needed medical attention. You hung up just as they asked for your name, bloodied fingers tossing the phone on the bed in your haste. There was no point covering your tracks; your DNA was everywhere, and you knew, from the fury in the man’s eyes, that it wasn’t the law you would need to watch out for.
"Y/N," he wheezed, breath hissed between his clenched teeth, and you paused. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."
"Oh..." you purred, a smile twisting your lips. "I'm counting on it."
And it wasn't from his words, but from the excitement beneath your flesh and the dull ache of your loins that you knew that it would not be the last time you saw Jackson Rippner.
And as you left, door slamming in your wake, you realised,
Maybe you enjoyed your little games.
A.N. I'm on the fence about carrying this into a series since I have a lot to work on at the moment, but can definitely consider it if there's a demand!
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @purplesnorlaxplush @henrywintersdearestgirl
Coldfire taglist: @mizzbel @violetparis
#jackson rippner#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner x you#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner imagines#jackson rippner fanfic#jackson rippner fic#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy#jack rippner#red eye 2005#s: coldfire
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HIIIII omg so uhm, first of all.. can I just say that I love your fics? Like I hecking love the fluffs you write, especially the Jonathan Crane ones!(he's my most favorite character xD OH AND THE RECENT IS SO CUTE AAA ps. the shark image reminds me of the shark meme looking on the side😭💗) So I went to your page to read more and I saw you take requests? I hope I asked this in the right time 😭 Recently I had this small idea and I guess its ooc but ack i hope not..but what if a Jackson Rippner x Innocent!Reader where Jackson comes home late a bit messed up and reader is so worried they thought he was a victim of some robbery or something when he was actually at work and stuff happened(Reader doesn't know his occupation like he doesnt tell them bc they are on the innocent side and he doesnt want to ruin their relationship by telling the truth for now) so like.. Reader ends up patching him up with comfort cuddles and I guess its his little reward for finishing the job? 👀 Id like to think that since he has this charming personality at first parts of the movie, hed use it to his leverage and Ig he gets good treatment for looking and sounding like the best bf ever and reader doesnt know what lies beneath the shell xD
Ps. Im so sorry again if its OOC 😭 I just like Innocent x protective troupes and its rare to find them for Jackson because usually the fics with him are like.. agressive nsfw hshshsh but idk why he just lowkey gives me that type of vibe hehe, I hope its not too muchie qwq💗
hello!! you’re so sweet, thank you so much. i’m so glad you enjoy my work 💖 thank you for this request, i haven’t gotten to write for jackson yet :)
nothing i can’t handle (jackson rippner x reader)
warnings: slight description of wounds but nothing graphic
author’s note: it’s a little ooc/not canon compliant but it’s such a cute idea!!
though it was late, the lights of your bedroom filled the house. you sat in bed, reading a book that you’d randomly grabbed off of the shelf in the room. your eyes lazily moved over the pages, using the words as a way to pass the time rather than for your own interest.
you turned your head to look at the clock, it was 1:54 a.m. while it wasn’t unusual for jackson to return home late, it wasn’t usually this late. you sighed; eyes returning to the book that was held in your hands.
jackson had never told you the details of what he did for work. you were too innocent— too naive. he found that charming, though; he found your innocence adorable. he was too far gone, too attached to you— completely enveloped by your innocence. he didn’t want to break that.
your eyes had started to close as you slowly dozed off. your eyes snapped open when you heard the front door open downstairs, closing quickly. you heard his footsteps ascend the stairs and watched as he made his way into the bedroom.
“jackson-”
your words were cut off when you saw his face. it was covered in dark bruises, small cuts lining his cheek and dried blood around his nose. the area under one of his eyes was dark and bruised, and a small cut sat on his bottom lip.
“jackson?! what happened to you?”
you rushed to stand up to him, eyes scanning his face for more injury. he shrugged.
“caught a guy trying to break into my car is all, wrong place at the wrong time, i guess.”
“he got you pretty good, jackson.”
you ran your fingers over his bruised cheek.
“nothing i can’t handle, sweetheart.”
what appeared to be a smile formed on his lips. jackson reached a hand up to brush his thumb against your cheek. you were adorable when you were worried.
“let me help you get cleaned up. stay here.”
you walked off to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. sitting on the edge of the bed, jackson untied his shoes and kicked them off. he took off his blazer, laying it on the bed. he unbuttoned his shirt, then his pants, dragging them off.
you returned a few minutes later, a damp washcloth in one hand and a box of bandages in the other. jackson was on the edge of the bed, left in his undershirt and boxers.
“just sit still.”
“be gentle, please.”
jackson smiled, his words dripping with the imitation of worry.
you raised the washcloth to the small cuts you saw on his face. he winced slightly when the warmth of the washcloth touched the sensitive, bruised skin. after a few minutes, you pulled the washcloth away.
“looks better already.”
you smiled and applied small bandages to his cuts, careful to not hurt him.
“lay down, i’ll be back in a minute.”
you picked up the washcloth and box of bandages and returned them to the bathroom. you walked back out, climbing into bed next to jackson.
when he turned to wrap his arms around you, you stopped him.
“oh? what’s this?”
jackson looked at you, his blue eyes searching through the innocence in yours.
“gonna hold you tonight, rippner. i think you deserve it.”
jackson was usually the one in control, but sometimes he enjoyed when you took over for him. he accepted your embrace when you wrapped yourself around him.
“just be careful from now on, please.”
jackson smiled when he heard your mumbled words come from where your head laid against his chest. the pain in his face was numbed by your warmth, and in these moments, he swore he wanted to tell you everything.
masterlist
#jackson rippner#jackson rippner x reader#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#fanfic#jackson rippner imagine#jakeotters writes
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Can u do a jackson rippner smut for fem sub reader where like, they work together and she is assigned on a mission with himmm
The Professional - Jackson Rippner x Reader
C/W: guns, typical assassin stuff, smut, rough blow job, vaginal sex, canon typical violence, and Jackson Rippner is a dick lol.
A/N: Thank you for the request! Also the song, "The Professional" by Pulp inspired this fic. I hope this is good! Also, I started working on a Neil Lewis request, hopefully, it will be easier to write less dark topics for a change!!
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You were just the informant. Just a measly informant who honestly, really would rather not work for a group like this. To be honest, you didn’t even like what you did. It just gave you enough money to enjoy the modern comforts of life. All those things you wanted for so long now were yours after living from paycheck to paycheck before. It was dirty money, you knew that of course, but if it kept you housed and equipped with nice clothes, fine jewelry, and the nicest home decor, you could withstand a little grime on your hands. It wasn’t like it was you who killed or terrorized, you just made sure they had all the information to do so. It was sleazy and even a little vain, sure, but you never owned such nice clothes and jewelry.
You didn’t have that before, in fact, you were the first person in your family to ever achieve this sort of success. Your family, the bleeding heart folks they are, had all lived comfortably but never extraordinarily. You had suspected the same, to live that safe typical life. That changed when you got a job at a firm of some sort as a private investigator. Or, what you thought was a private investigator, you weren’t stupid, you pieced it together that this job was investigating people who had to be “taken care of” or whatever mob movie-esque way of saying it was. After some time the firm was more open about their true colors regarding their work. You told yourself that you were in too deep to stop now, too far gone to stop yourself from continuing. (And the money. Jesus the money! They do say that money is the root of all evil, don’t they?) You weren’t even sure if you believed in hell but you were sure that doing this work was your ticket there.
Still, you did it. You worked around the clock to gather as much information on a client as possible, even knowing exactly what time they left their house every morning on average. You weren’t one of Charlie’s Angels, no, not by far, but you did have a knack for finding information on people. It gave you some comfort knowing that you had plausible deniability, if one day this whole firm was busted, you already knew you could cry and say you had no idea. You were just doing what you were told. To be fair, you did anything Jackson Rippner, the manager of the firm, said. There was just something about his cocky charm that got to you, like how it got to everyone else he interacted with.
There were a few words to describe Jackson Rippner, he was a charming douchebag, among other ones. Granted, you were hardly at the receiving end of any of his lectures or reprimanding but you saw it happen enough to know that you never wanted to be the one who was. You figured that if you kept doing what you were doing you would be okay. Most of your interactions with him were seemingly pleasant or at the very least, cordial. He was a looming presence when you were sitting up in your office, piling through everything a client had done. He seemed to micromanage, always looking over your shoulder and telling you to make sure you remembered to look into so and so as well. It could be bearable on some days and other days, you had a ringing in your ear by the time you had left your office. Sometimes his “pointers” just seemed condescending. Not wanting to be a bother though, you always nodded along and acted like whatever he had told you to do was something you hadn’t already planned on doing. It also was apparent to you that you did want to make him proud, for some reason. You had an idea of what his real work was, but still, you wanted to get his approval.
Jackson had made note of your unwavering subservience, granted he had picked up on it before you were even aware of it. Reading people was something he had a great strength in, he could see your weaknesses from the moment you walked into this job, full of naivety. He had no issue whatsoever using this to his advantage, he knew you wouldn’t say no. On a rather plain morning, he had come into your office, and you expected the same sort of run-down as usual. You expected a stack of papers and a few names as a week’s worth of work but he had a different idea of how you would be working that week.
“Good morning,” Jackson said as he stepped into your office. “I have a proposition for you.” He could be blunt, never leaving too much for interpretation.
“Uh huh…”You said with a lifted brow. “What is it?”
“Nothing you can’t manage, I’m sure…” He replied, slinking over to your desk and taking a look at what you decorated it with, which wasn’t much more than a few cups of pens and pencils. Keeping pictures of your family here just seemed like a bad idea. “It’s simple, you won’t even need to do anything for the most part. You’ll just be accompanying me on a mission, it is as easy as it sounds.”
How vague.
“Oh…” You said and nervously glanced over at him. “Uh… Why? Don’t we have someone you want me to look into? I do better with paper honestly.”
“Come on,” He said with a little grin. “It would be good for you to get out of this stuffy office and get some real experience in this field. You don’t want to be a paper pusher forever, right?”
“I guess, but I’m pretty comfortable right here.” You stammered for a reason to reject this offer. “I probably won’t be very helpful. Like I said, I do better with paper.” You added, hoping he would get that you weren’t interested. At that point, it would just seem too involved.
“Don’t tell me no,” Jackson said, putting on his best charming smile. “Your work here is greatly appreciated, it’s only fair we give you a chance to learn how things are done outside the office.”
Suddenly it really felt like you couldn’t tell him no. He has a way about him to make plans seem like they were your idea all along. Or maybe that was just your budding attraction towards him speaking. You didn’t like to admit it but you did see him as more than just your cocky higher-up. Either way, you swallowed your spit and sighed.
“What would I be doing?” You asked after some initial hesitation.
“It’s simple, you should be able to keep up.” He said with a layer of condensation. “You’ll come with me to a gala, one of our clients really can’t stand the man throwing the party. You’ll be a buffer of sorts, if we just play the part of a wealthy couple going there together it’ll be less likely we draw any suspicion. Power in numbers as they say.”
“And then what? Are we going to look into the guy and try to find information on him?” You asked cautiously.
“The next part isn’t something you should concern yourself with.” He explained. “All you need to do is come with me dressed in some pearls.” He added with a small grin.
You let out a tired sigh, already feeling bad. It just seemed much worse to go out with Jackson and play into this whole mission. It was wrong, you knew that, but when he mentioned a bonus, you felt inclined to say yes and swallow that diminished sense of conscience you had remaining.
In the days prior to the party, you had a few errands to run to ensure you would blend in and most importantly, not piss off Jackson. You knew he held a certain standard for these types of missions and because of this, you put effort into achieving these silent standards he placed over you. As a way to prepare, you learned what the demographic was going to be, bought a new and much too expensive dress, and watched Sex and the City. The whole party was a very WASP-y upper-class event, you figured the TV show would be a good way to base your mannerisms for the event.
The night of the party you could safely say that it was the best you had looked in a long time. Your dress fits in all the right places without being over the top. You knew you looked the part, you just had to be as inconspicuous as possible. Jackson, being as thorough as he normally is, already had fake identities for the two of you. A husband and wife who were thought to be wealthy investors. You tried not to think too hard about it but you thought the choice was odd.
The party was just as you assumed, very white collar and white pearls. You and Jackson made it your goal to just blend in. Dressed in your incognito you both made it through the party with fake stories of your identity rehearsed and studied. He stayed as charming as always, making witty comments to other guests and being polite. You mostly stayed quiet, afraid to say the wrong things and get odd glances and whispers thrown your way. To anyone else, you and Jackson looked like the prototype of some rich couple, his hand on your waist with you smiling and nodding to every word that left his mouth.
As the night aged, Jackson excused himself and left you with a woman who wore a lipstick shade too bright that drew attention to her large teeth. Not having him guiding you through conversations made you feel a little anxious, you had to rely wholly on your judgment and try to not reveal anything about yourself if it wasn’t necessary. The woman with the large teeth didn’t notice your apprehension to conversation, instead, she rattled on about some trip to Aspen she had gone on with her husband and children a year or so ago. Or maybe it was a trip to Lake Tahoe. You weren’t keeping up with the conversation as much as you got more nervous the longer Jackson was gone. It was a strange sense of abandonment. You eventually excused yourself, asking for directions to the bathroom and then disregarding them to find Jackson elsewhere.
The house the party was in was nothing short of a mansion. As you walked through the quiet upstairs you took note of every detail of wealth. Paintings from famous artists, pristine floors, and how the whole upstairs seemed to be a labyrinth of fine living. Even the fucking trim on the walls seemed to be custom-made. You could only survey the state of the house for so long as you walked through the halls, searching for your escort. Each time you passed a room with its door closed, you pressed your ear to it for a moment, waiting to hear something. The last door at the end of the hall was your last bet, you pressed your ear to it and did hear something. It sounded like a struggle.
Two people, or how it sounded, were scraping against each other, their movements were erratic till you heard a loud thud followed by Jackson's voice. He was threatening someone, his words full of cruelty. The other voice, a man, had managed out some pleading words before there was a muffled sound, you thought it could’ve been a gunshot, but it was indiscernible. Then there was silence. A silence that made you sick. As you listened with your ear pressed to the door, it was opened by Jackson and he pushed you inside quickly.
“Goddamnit.” He hissed at you as he pulled you in by the wrists and slammed the door behind you. He stood directly in front of you. “I almost blew your brains out!”
He looked like he was about to lose his temper. You were too distracted by the blood coming from the man who he had presumably just shot and by the gun in his hand. The man, who you thought was the man this whole mission was for, was undoubtedly dead. An expertly shot bullet wound between his eyes gave you a feeling that this was obviously not Jackson’s first time. You always thought you would’ve screamed in a moment like this, instead, you just stayed wide-eyed and white in the face. Jackson paid no mind to the man he had just murdered, he was all but focused on you.
“Well come on,” He sighed. “We gotta go.”
You were too frazzled by what you had seen to not comply. Jackson led you back downstairs to the now thawing-out party by the wrist and made your way to the foyer, sending anyone who noticed you two quick smiles and waves. The driver was already there in the valet, Jackson practically shoved you into the back seat and followed after you. Your entire body felt tense, all of this was too much. Quickly you realized this wasn’t the life for you. You didn’t cry though, you didn’t do anything besides look in front of you and take shallow breaths. The driver was silent as Jackson made a call, murmuring how it was done and there were no complications. He ended the call and looked at you curiously.
“You look like you just saw a ghost.” He noted.
“I’ve felt better.” You mumbled. He let your words sink in and then patted you on the shoulder.’
“Sounds like you need a drink,” Jackson replied with his boyish grin that you were beginning to see too often. “Let's stop at my place for a nightcap.”
You didn’t have the time to accept or reject his offer as he told the driver that there would only be one stop. As upset as you were, you were doing better than you ever would’ve expected. There were no tears or refusal, you accepted everything so quickly. The car drove swiftly and the sky from the window looked black as midnight approached. The moon was covered by lazy clouds that clung to it, streetlights taking its place as a light source instead.
By the time you had pulled in front of his place, a quaint little cabin far from anyone, you had fully accepted what you had taken part in. You still had the tightly tied knot in your stomach but it was no use trying to argue with your conscience-laden mind. Once you were in his home, you sat down on one of the barstools at his kitchen’s island and watched as he made you some vodka-based drink. He was right, you did need a drink. Desperately.
“I have to say,” Jackson chimed as he poured some mixer into your glasses. “The dress was very fitting for the event. You played the rich socialite part well.” You muttered a thanks and as he sat the drink in front of you, he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’s wrong?”
“You killed a man.” You whispered hesitantly.
“That’s what this whole deer in the headlights look you have is about?” He asked, amused, took a sip of his drink, and then cleared his throat. “Listen, it was nothing personal. It’s about being a professional. You should know that.”
“It just seems wrong.” You replied not looking him in the eyes which caused him to sigh a bit annoyed.
“You need to lighten up.” He told you with no hint of joking either. “Now, just take a drink.” And you did as he said, like most things.
You drank in silence, not a single word coming from either of you till the glasses had nothing but a few ice cubes in them. The air around was tense, and as much as you accepted the whole ordeal, this sense of guilt and dread hung over your head. Jackson picked up on it and walked towards you, standing in front of you as you sat on the edge of the bar stool.
“You don’t need to feel bad.” He told you. “You didn’t even do anything, you’re just the witness.”
“I think I would be considered an accessory after the fact.” You added grimly.
“You know,” He said as he rested one elbow on the counter. “You’re much too talented with this work to be so tense. You had a special knack for this sort of thing, something I find highly admirable.”
“I don’t think I’m right for this sort of work.”
“Don’t say that.” He shook his head and then put a less-than-comforting hand on your shoulder. “You have it in yourself to do great things, trust me. Especially if we work together as well as we did tonight. You just did whatever I said. I like that about you.”
You blushed. Goddamnit, but you blushed.
“I just… It’s hard for me to wrap my head around what you do and how you don’t feel bad about it.” You sighed and turned your head to the side, looking at the wooded view outside his home.
“There’s no use in being over-emotional.” He told you with that sly grin. “Just be a professional about this and you’ll be fine.”
You didn’t think you were over-emotional, especially for what you had just witnessed. Depending on your persuasion, it would’ve been more than okay for you to act totally hysterical but with Jackson's hand on your shoulder you found yourself more susceptible to his words. As artificial as you were sure they were. There was something calming about him though, even for what he did. You just felt like he was right, like everything was going to be okay. Just like he said.
“There’s nothing to worry about.” He said calmly, slightly massaging your shoulder. “I just need you to keep being good, alright? You did so well.”
You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by how red your face must’ve been. He just looked amused with how this whole thing was turning out. You were sure he knew about that attraction you had for him that you tried to keep so hidden. It was honestly hard for you to feel bad for that man who he had shot. After all, you didn’t do it, and plus, he was just some rich asshole. As you had your inner monologue, Jackson’s hand moved from your shoulder and to your cheek, bringing your eyes up to his. You bit the inside of your cheek and expected him to reject you, now that it was obvious you had some misguided feelings of attraction towards him. You expected him to toy with you, perhaps say some kind words, and then ship you out in a cab all alone.
“You looked beautiful tonight,” He said quietly. “If that’s all consolation.”
“Thank you.” You whispered. If he was just going to toy with you, you would put this night out of your mind, you decided. You would never think of it again, instead, you already figured you would chalk it up to adrenaline and a mixed drink. His fingertips lightly grazed your cheek, eventually falling to the corner of your mouth.
“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” He cooed with a hint of smugness. “You tell me you don’t like what you’re doing for me but yet you do it.”
“I just needed money…” You started to say but he cut you off abruptly.
“I bet you would suck my cock if I asked.”
The way he said it made you stop speaking and just look at him. You couldn’t talk, you must’ve lost the ability to speak right around when you lost your rational thinking. The words held heavy in the air, you could only think about doing what he told you. After a moment, you stopped thinking about any repercussions and just asked.
“Do you want me to?” You asked hesitantly.
If he says no, you could excuse yourself to the bathroom and then fling yourself out of the window. You thought that would be the only sensible thing to do.
“I knew it.” Jackson chuckled and then his finger traced your bottom lip. There was no motion except his finger for a moment. He looked at you with a shit-eating grin, just for anticipation. “I’m waiting.”
“Right,” You said and nervously lowered yourself to your knees. “Right…” You added quietly.
With nervous hands fumbling with his belt, you had gotten him free from his confines and pulled down his boxers. He was much bigger than you would’ve thought, you had seen his bulge in the dress pants he normally wore but that was nothing but an understatement to how he was underneath. You wet your lips before you parted your lips to take him. You took as much as you could with your mouth and used your hands on what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Without any warning, Jackson grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed you all the way down, his cock hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag in surprise.
“Fuck,” He groaned above you. “You look so pretty like this. So pretty with my cock shoved down your throat.”
You had never deep-throated someone before, yes you had given men blow jobs, but you were always under the assumption that the whole point of a man having his cock stuffed in your mouth was because it was attractive to see a woman working fully for their pleasure and have stimulation without the same feeling of a pussy. This wasn’t the case though, Jackson kept his dick deep in your throat, holding it there as he looked at you with your reddening cheeks and tears threatening to spill. You couldn’t assume this was as good as a usual blow job, it seemed psychological more than anything. Jackson, it seemed, just wanted to see how submissive you were for him. Seeing just how long he could keep you still with your mouth around his dick.
You breathed through your nose as he kept his grip firm on your hair. His breathing was still for a moment before he pulled you off and then shuttered. With his grip still harsh, he pulled you back to his cock, forcing your mouth open with it and guiding your head up and down him. A bit of drool escaped from the corners of your mouth and left a trail down to your chin. He grunted at the look of you and eventually pulled you off completely and coughed as you caught your breath.
“Get up.” He told you as he lifted you by the bicep, forcing you to your feet.
You were still recovering from your rough blow job when he bent you over the counter, ass up, and fondled your waist and hips, feeling your body through the dress you wore. Your entire head was spinning, mostly from how fast this was all going and how once you were sure that any sort of contact from Jackson was going to be reserved for your late-night fantasies. It was humiliating how you were so willing for everything he put you through. Without a warning, he lifted your dress and bunched it around your waist, and then brought his hand to toy with your cunt through your underwear.
“Lace?” He mused as he touched you. “You were just hoping this would happen, huh? If I had known how much of a slut you were for me I would’ve bent you over a desk at work already.”
“I’m not a slut.” You defended meekly as you desperately pushed your pelvis a bit closer to where you wanted him to touch.
“No?” He chuckled. “You’re no fucking Madonna, that's for sure.”
Your witty response was caught in the back of your throat as you felt him push your panties to the side and work a finger into your cunt. You bit your lip enough for it to bleed if you had sunk your teeth down long enough. He watched as you tried to stay composed as he fucked you with his fingers, collecting your slick with curled fingers. Every pump of his fingers was driving you insane.
“Please,” You moaned. “Please fuck me.”
“Needy little thing.” He whispered, “Be patient for me, alright?”
You nodded, letting him continue to pump his fingers in and out of your now-soaked pussy. You could’ve cried when he finally paid attention to your swollen clit. After a few circles around your clit, you came and he looked at you with a mocking grin. Like a Cheshire cat.
“You really get worked up for me, don’t you?” He teased and then leaned over you to speak directly into your ear, giving you goosebumps with each word as you came off of your orgasm. “You’re gonna come on my cock too. I’m gonna fuck you till you’re sore.”
Your stomach flipped with anticipation, rutting your ass against his crotch. How he quickly turned you into this moaning whore was beyond you. All you could do was try not to moan from the simplest of movements. Like when he stripped your panties off and held your hips in place with his rough hands. When the head of his cock was between your folds you could’ve melted on the spot. As he pushed into you, a wanton moan escaped your lips much to his pleasure. His fingernails dug into your hips as he pushed his cock fully into you. With a bit of strain, he found a rhythm as he fucked you. His grunts of approval could’ve made you come alone, but you held off.
With his body weight pushed against you, keeping you secured to the edge of the counter, you had very limited movements. Jackson wanted it like that, he wanted you fully enraptured and to only feel him. Eventually, his movements had gotten quicker, less focused on making this enjoyable for you and more focused on his own pleasure. His hips rammed into you, and you cried out in somewhat pain and somewhat pleasure. A string of curses and cries escaped your lips and yet he kept his increasingly faster speed on you.
“So fucking tight.” He choked out. “I should just hire you as my own personal whore, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Just fucking me as a job?”
“Fuck,” You cried out, tears now pooling down your cheeks in a sloppy manner. “Jackson, I’m gonna come.” You warned and then he brought his hand to your clit, quickly bringing his middle and ring finger to it in almost over-stimulating circles.
“Wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna see you come for me.”
His filthy words were just what you needed to come. You cried out in ecstasy, your moans just as filthy as his as he orgasmed after you. His come seeped out of your pussy after he pulled out and let you both catch his breath. You slowly rose from the counter, straightening your back out after being put in that position. With a nervous look, you glanced at Jackson who looked very pleased with himself.
“I should really take you out on missions more often.” He told you and you suddenly felt that it was all worth it, in a fucked up way.
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10 Days of Smutmas
hello, everyone! i am happy to announce my first smutmas event!
welcome to my 2023 smutmas event! all fics will be labeled and tagged upon release (not in order of list), please read all warning cards for each fic before continuing.
all fics will be labeled for how dark they’ll get as the following: ♡ for consensual, ♢ for dub con, and ♤ for non con.
please be patient with me, writing is hard lmao. i have ten fics that i plan to release this month, but writer's block and motivation loss is a bitch.
if you would like to be added to the taglist, please to so here or send me a message.
NSFW & DARK CONTENT AHEAD — viewer discretion advised…
size kink w/ miguel o'hara ♡
double penetration w/ steve harrington & eddie munson ♡
face fucking w/ jackson rippner ♤
demon au w/ natasha romanoff ♢
cockwarming w/ tommy shelby ♡
sex pollen w/ jonathan crane ♢
corruption kink w/ the corinthian ♢
prostitution w/ joel miller ♡
erotic photos w/ stu macher ♡
begging/degradation kink w/ blue jones ♢
#smutmas#10 days of smutmas#smutmas 2023#smutmas masterlist#peaky blinders#stranger things#across the spiderverse#red eye 2005#batman begins#the sandman#sucker punch#scream 1996#the last of us#marvel#dark content
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