#and a bit of a dread sensation too...

[meat-pc]

Depiction that ends in redaction, so what was the point? There is no man. And so you paint over it. But it doesn't leave you. You cant forget.

[kissthesunandmoon]

Your Yautja discovers the joys of human hair <3 (Short Drabble, straight/wavy/ loose curl hair edition)

Tight curl/afro edition here

(Just something short and fluffy as a break from all the smut! Both stories are exactly the same, just altered slightly to be more realistic to which hair type you have, I have also been careful not to mention any length or colour to try to make it as enjoyable for everyone as I can)

The soft sounds of your breathing were all that could be heard in your shared bedroom, fast asleep laying on your mates chest, the gentle rise and fall of his own breath cradling you into a deep sleep. His claws tracing up and down your bare back, completely fixated on your soft skin.

You had been together now for only a couple of weeks and he was only now getting fully comfortable with the idea of touching you, he knew that humans were delicate creatures, but he didn’t know just how delicate. Not wanting to test the theory he had mainly kept his hands to himself, terrified of his own strength against you.

But finally, he was adjusting himself to your body, finding that you weren’t as fragile as his mind had led him to believe. Sure he could hurt you, but he was learning to be gentle. He had to admit, he was rather curious about your body so different to his own. So, he allowed himself fleeting touches here and there, just enough that he deemed wouldn’t bruise your beautiful skin or damage your beautiful body.

When you had clambered on top of him to lie on his chest, you had to remind him once again that he would not break you, and that you would tell him if he caused you even the slightest of discomfort. Now here you were, completely vulnerable and at his mercy, he adored the trust you had in him and vowed to never break it.

As you stirred slightly against you, he watched as your hair shifted with you, sliding against your soft skin. He had been curious about that too, it was nothing like his, soft and thin strands unlike his thick fleshy dreads. It was also different to the furs on his bed, which although were soft, were not as luscious as your hair.

Yautja dreads were a type of sensory organ, they could feel, they could hurt and they bled if they were cut. So naturally the first time he saw you brushing your hair and few small strands came out with the brush, he had rushed to aid you terrified that you had injured yourself. Once you had explained to him the logistics of human hair, he found himself even more enticed, but still nervous to touch.

Your hair had been absolutely beautiful to him, the way it would sway slightly when you moved, flow with even the slightest bit of wind and cascade itself against your beautiful skin. He couldn’t deny that from the first day he saw it, he wanted nothing more than to feel it.

Watching as some fell over your face, he leaned a gentle, slightly shaking hand down hesitating for a moment before gingerly moving it back behind you. Even in just that brief moment, he could feel how soft it was. Reminding himself once again that it didn’t hurt you, he let his hand drift to the back of your head, he nipped a few strands between his fingers making sure not to actually tug on them, to reassure himself of the lack of sensation.

Then, tenderly he let his fingers intertwine with it, running them through it gently. He could smell the oils he had provided you to clean yourself with it as he did, and he could feel how soft it was. It felt like silk against his rough fingers, seeing that his motion did not disturb your rest, he allowed himself to feel it further. Moving his other hand as well now, he let both of them drift from your scalp, down to where your hair ended.

Becoming more confident, he was soon using his fingers to twirl it around, watching as it wrapped itself around them, he was still careful not to pull, you had told him that although your hair had no nerves, your scalp certainly did. Getting lost in the feeling, soon he felt a rumbling purr erupt from his chest.

He was like a giddy child now, merrily scooping your hair up, dropping it down, running his hands down its length, cupping it in his palms and just allowing himself to feel it. Then he felt you, stirring once again against him and he instantly stilled, had he hurt you?

But when you looked up at him you gave him a soft, sleepy smile “Are you enjoying yourself there big guy?” You chuckled softly, he felt himself relax and soon his fingers were back at their antics. And soon you found yourself drifting off for a second time, his gentle fingers cradling you back into your slumber.

[howi99]

Jaune: *transporting Yang on his back, entering team RWBY's room* Hey Ruby!

Ruby: ... Jaune, why is my sister unconscious?

Jaune: *delicately posing the sleeping beauty in her bed* Honestly? No clues! We were just walking to the arcade when i saw a guy doing some sick move on a skateboard. So i grabbed her hands and-

Ruby: *cutting him in a panic* WAIT! HOLD ON!

Jaune: *confused* What did i-

Ruby: YOU HOLD HER HAND!?

Jaune: ... Y-yeah? *Scratching his head* Does she hate it-

Ruby: *grabbing him by the shoulders* THEN WHAT HAPPENED!?

Jaune: U-uh... Well...

_ 1h ago _

Jaune: *holding Yang's hand, smiling* That guy was awesome, right? Man, those tricks were sick!

Yang: *Blushing* Y-yeah! Totally! *Looking at their hands* (OMG OMG! WE ARE HOLDING HANDS!? ALREADY?!? BUT WE AREN'T EVEN DATING!!!)

Jaune: *who was continuing talking* -So, you'd like some?

Yang: *who absolutely didn't listen* (That sounds like an invitation! S-should i accept!?) U-uh yeah, sure!

Jaune: *beaming* Awesome! I heard they made some of the best noodles in town and-

Yang: *panicking* (RESTAURANT!? OH MY GOSH, THIS IS A DATE!!!) J-Jaune, d-don't you think we should take it a bit slower?

Jaune: *confused* Hm? *Worried* Oh, am i walking too fast? *Apologetic smile* I'm sorry, i just got excited about the food i guess.

Yang: ... (ALERT! ALERT! HE'S SEDUCING US! THAT IDIOT DOESN'T EVEN TRY AND WE ARE FOLDING LIKE A CAMPING CHAIR!) *Cough in her hand, trying to hide how much of a blushing mess she is* It's fine, d-don't worry!

_ _ _

Ruby: *recoil* YOU TOOK HER TO A RESTAURANT!?

Jaune: ... I mean, it was more of a food stand but-

Ruby: WHAT ELSE?!

Jaune: N-not much! We just finished eating when-

_ 30min ago _

Yang: *Finishing her bowl* Damn, that was good! *Grinning, hitting Jaune's arm playfully* Should have brought me here sooner, that place's the best! (Oof, i was just imagining things. Man, i really need to calm myself, huh?)

Jaune: *looking at Yang, seeing a little bit of noodle stuck on her face* Hm... Yang, you got something on your face.

Yang: Wait, really? Where-

Jaune : *Remove it delicately with a smile, his hand brushing her face slightly* Here, all good to go!

Yang: ... (FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKK!!!)

Jaune: *tilting his head* Is everything alright?

Yang: *Blushing madely* O-o-of c-course! J-just a bit hot, that's all! (VB, STOP! I'M GOING TO MELT! YOU ARE KILLING ME WITH KINDNESS!)

Jaune: *worried* Yang, you are completely red... *Putting his hand on her forehead* You are burning! *Grabbing her hands* He-here, i'll boost your aura and-

_ _ _

Jaune: And she lost consciousness right there. *Scratch his head* I really don't understand, she was fine and then BAM! K.O!

Ruby: ... So that's what dad warned us about.

Jaune: What?

Ruby: *shaking her head with a sigh, going out of the room* Just... Good luck. *Close the door*

Jaune: *confused* ... Good luck? *Feeling a sensation of dread as he felt something warm on his back* ... Y-Yang?

Yang: *smiling like an angel* Yes~?

Jaune: *blushing* W-why can't i feel your jacket?

Yang: *chuckle* Oh Jaune... You have no idea how much you are going to enjoy this~

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[loverindeepspace]

Lost // Xavier x Reader

This is my first fanfic in years, so please be nice T^T I'll be doing ones with a similar concept for the rest of the boys too Concept: Xavier has a nightmare, you comfort him CW: hurt/comfort, spoilers for his anecdote, death of character (in dream), blood, nightmares, bit of fluff at the end, she/her pronouns for reader Masterlist

He swayed on his feet with every step he took, he had to keep moving, yet every step he took made burning pain shoot up his side. The cuts on his face sting in the cold air, blood long dried and flaking on his skin.

He has to make it back. She’s waiting for him. 

It’s been so long since he last saw her, her bright eyes, a smile that lit up his heart. It’s been so long since he felt her warmth, her hand in his, fitting perfectly like two pieces in a puzzle. 

He looked down, the protocore in his hand held firmly. He was going to save you if it’s the last thing he did.

He kept walking, one step after another, each step closer to her, to the place he knew she’d be, the place they first saw the stars together, a wish placed upon each star that shot through the sky above them. 

He finally spots her, on that trestle bridge.

And then he’s running, running, running, pain long forgotten, until she’s right there, right in front of him. 

She looks pale, bags under her eyes, cheeks hollow with the weight that she lost. 

She was beautiful. In his eyes, he could only see the girl he fell in love with. 

The girl who seems to be withering away in front of his very eyes.

A sense of urgency, of desperation, overcame him. He holds out his hand, still trying to catch his breath, the shining protocore cradled carefully in his palm. 

They exchange a few words, and she reaches out a hand, resting on his cheek, wiping away the blood that clung to his skin. He nuzzles into her cold palm, eyes never leaving her but his sight getting more blurry by the second, tears threatening to spill down his face, sorrow and love painted across his face. 

“It’s too late.”

Her eyes water, streaks of tears spilling down her own cheeks as he cradles her right back. Before he knows it, they’re sitting side by side, her weak body leaning against him, arm around her  back holding her close, the other hand holding hers, lights, like fireflies, floating around them. 

“I wish to meet you in my next life… I wonder if that will come true…”

“It will.”

Her eyes fall closed for the last time, and panic takes hold in his heart. He calls her name, over and over, until the final breath leaves her lungs.

She’s gone.

… She’s gone.

Sob after sob spill from his lips, her name falling from his lips like a mantra between broken breaths, arms holding her fragile body close, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go.

With a pained whimper, Xavier’s eyes fly open, sitting up as dread settles into his very core. The stabbing pain in his pounding heart seemed like it would never stop, his eyes flying around the room searching for you. Finally they settled on your form, nestled in the sheets next to him, unmoving. His stomach dropped, fear seized him, his breaths coming out sharp as a shaking hand moved over to your form, quickly settling on your hand, his fingers searching desperately for a pulse. 

You had to be okay, please be okay.

Your eyes fluttered open with the sensation of your wrist being held tightly in someone’s warm grip. 

“Xavier?” You muttered softly, the fog of sleepiness still clouding your senses. His blue eyes snap to yours, hazy and unfocused, and all you can focus on is the terror reflected in them. With that you were very much awake, calling his name more firmly, “Xavier? What happened?” You sit up quickly and reach your free hand out towards his face, stroking the still flowing tears away.

“... You’re okay…” He breaths out, relief flooding his features, more tears spilling down his face. Without a second thought, you pull him in, resting his head on your chest, arms wrapping around him. And the moment he hears the steady thud thud thud of your heartbeat, a choked sob escapes his throat, his arms pulling you closer than ever, holding you tightly like you are his last lifeline. 

With a steady breath, you whisper softly, “Shhhh… you’re okay… I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You try to sooth him, your hands running through his silky blonde hair. You don’t know what happened, but you can put two and two together for now, it must’ve been a nightmare, a bad one at that. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like he does now. Lost. Frightened. Terrified. 

Some time passes, the sobs dying down, arms still clinging to you tightly.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” His voice is soft, still rough, raw with emotion, his head burying itself deeper in your neck.

“Don’t apologise sweetheart. I’m here, always. I’m always going to be here. Don’t hesitate to wake me up next time, okay?” You murmur into his ear, fingers running along his back in soothing motions, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shakes his head, drawing in an unsteady breath, “No. Not yet at least. Just… let me hold you, please.” His voice breaks slightly at the end.

“Okay. But When you’re ready, I’m here okay?” 

“... Thank you.” He mutters softly, as the two of you move to lay down, still entwined in each other’s embrace, his face still buried in your neck, feeling and hearing your pulse beating continuously and reassuringly.

[idkwhylou]

Gone, again

Summary : You and Bob share an undefined relationship built on late nights and unspoken feelings. He wants more and one night, he finally, confronts you. But things don’t go as planned…

Bob Floyd x f!reader/pilot!reader

Warnings : sexual content, strangle (nothing to scary folks), lack of communication, angst, conflicted feelings, heavy past, secret relationship, toxic behaviour (?), emotional unavailability (reader is mean to Bob—how dare you), fling, use of y/n, reader has hair, too much italics

Words : 5,5K

A/N : I had this in my drafts for so long, didn’t really checked before posting so sorry for the mistakes. When I wrote it I thought of other parts, tell me if you want it.

+ your call sign is « Grumpy »

Bob’s masterlist | next part

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─── ««

“Bob !” his name spilled from your mouth in a breathless moan, trembling with pleasure as it was now harder to control the loudness of your voice. Your nails dug lightly into his broad and muscular shoulders as you rubbed your hips frantically against his. His head fell back, exposing his throat, and your back arched instinctively, bringing your bodies even closer.

You let yourself get carried away completely, bouncing desperately on the pilot's lap beneath you. Letting go of everything but the overwhelming pulse of him inside you. The desire was getting out of control, you could feel yourself coming. He felt so deep inside you that it stole the breath from your lungs and made your thoughts blur.

You bit your lower lip, almost to the point of bleeding to contain your excitement. Bob’s voice rose beneath you, thick with strain. Your name came out of his mouth, “Don’t stop,” he groaned, almost choking on it, sensing that he couldn’t hold it much long neither. “Please, baby, don’t stop.”

You nodded, dazed. His grip on your hips tightened, rough palms guiding your rhythm even as his body trembled under yours. Those veiny hands, forcing your body down onto his, which made you feel his cock even deeper in you. You closed your eyes so tightly it almost hurt, and with a little difficulty you slid one of your hands down his chest, fingertips tracing the slick lines of his abs. You found his hand and quickly grabbed it, drew it to your throat as you lift your chin slightly as invitation.

Bob froze.

“No, y/n...” he dared to answer you almost in a whisper, voice caught between desire and dread, his gaze locking onto yours.

« Please… » you begged him almost on the verge of tears from all the sensations running through your body. He sighed slowly, then his fingers closed gently around your throat, the pressure careful, controlled, reverent.

You let out a little cry of surprise, not expecting him to give up so soon, which made the blond came undone beneath you. His body stilling, mouth open in a silent gasp as you rode him through it, relentless and shaking.

His hands slid back to your hips, grounding himself in the soft weight of your body. You collapsed forward, your damp skin sticking to his. Your head found the crook of his neck, the place where his pulse beat soft and sure. Bob didn’t speak. He just stroked your hair, tenderly, slowly, as if afraid you might disappear if he held you too tightly.

Eventually, you shifted beside him, still slick with sweat, and he leaned in to kiss the space just below your ear. Not lustful. Loving. The two of you remained there for a long and silent moment, entwined in each other's arms, nothing but your breaths and the creaking of the sofa as he lifted both your bodies to sit up could be heard in the room.

As you slowly came to your senses, he moved—lifting your body gently from his lap and laying you down on the sofa like something precious. He folded the blanket that had fallen to the floor over your still warm and wet body to cover you, then placed a second tender kiss on the top of your head. You tensed at his sign of affection which made his lips twitch. A flicker of something—uncertain, guilt, regret… but he didn’t ask why, he never asks why.

Instead, he turned toward the bathroom, rushing only for your sake. He didn’t want to leave you alone too long, even if you could navigate his apartment in the dark now, knowing it almost as well as his body. Under the hot water, he scrubbed the need off him, rinsed away the hope clinging to his skin. He dried himself quickly and stepped out with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. A drop of water slipped from his hair and trailed down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it. He couldn’t.

His eyes lifted toward the sofa.

Empty.

No sound but the creak of the floorboards, the echo of your absence still hanging in the room like perfume.

You were gone.

Again.

He brought his hand to his face, preferring to hide his shame. How foolish, he thought, to still imagine you might stay. He let out a breath that sounded too much like surrender and dropped his arms to his sides, towel forgotten, shame blooming in the quiet.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─── ««

“Come on Bob,”fanboy nudged him with a grin, “don’t tell me you’ve got better things to do tonight ?”

Bob hesitated, just long enough for the question to start curdling in his chest. “Sorry fanboy but tonight I… I really can't. Next Friday ?” He offered shyly. His voice softer and more uncertain than it should have been, almost apologetic. 

The moment the lie left his mouth, it sat there, heavy and wrong. Like wet wool around his throat. Bob hated lying. He wasn’t built for it; he was a man of quiet integrity, someone who’d rather say too little than betray the truth. And yet here he was again, feeding excuses to the people who trusted him. Ducking out of a night at the Hard Deck with his squadron—his friends—because the idea of missing the tiny sliver of possibility that you might show up at his door made his chest ache.

He couldn’t tell them that, though. Frustration consumed him as he couldn’t explain you. Because, actually, there were no words for this thing you two had. No clear label. Nothing that would make sense if spoken aloud.

Unintentionally, almost instinctively, his gaze drifted across the room. You sat alone in a corner of the dining room, idly pushing your food around your plate, eyes low and unreadable—detached, as always. Bob clenched his jaw; he shouldn’t have looked. He pursed his lips as he remembered that you were the reason for his absence at the hard deck tonight and felt his cheeks flush. 

Since the last time you saw each other—a few days ago, maybe less, though time blurred when it came to you—you hadn't spoken again. Well, technically you two never really spoked. Your conversations existed in the hours between arrival and departure. Skin on skin, breathless urgency, heat and hands. A silence that only broke for gasps and groans. The rest of it, remained off-limits.

This saddened the blond a little, he was an attentive, romantic, gentle and passionate man. He was built for stillness and devotion, not chaos and ambiguity. He believed in commitment, in gestures that meant something. He opened doors, offered jackets in the cold, and made quiet, thoughtful observations he was too shy to speak aloud. He didn’t know how to exist in half-shadows. But with you, he was learning. He had to.

He didn’t understand why he agreed to it at first or how it really started, or even why it continued ? He’d never imagined himself in a casual fling. And yet, every time you knocked on his door, he let you in. Every time you pressed your body against his, he answered. Not because of desire alone, but because some stubborn part of him hoped that maybe this time would be different. That maybe you’d stay. That maybe you’d talk. That maybe this time, you’d let him in.

You'd been sleeping together recurrently for a few months now and Bob had agreed to a lot of things for you, without really knowing why. He tried to lie to himself about what this was. Told himself it was mutual. Equal. But deep down, Bob knew—he was the one losing pieces every time you left. Yet, Bob loved making love to you. Yes—making love. He refused to dilute it with any other phrase, even if everything between you begged him to call it something less fragile, less vulnerable.

Because that’s what it was to him. Not just sex. Not just release. You weren’t some passing stranger in his bed, or a notch in a belt he didn’t care to wear. You were you. The way you breathed against his neck when you got too close to breaking. The way your bodies felt against each other. The way once under him you would make the sweetest noises. The way your hand instinctively reached for his hair when he kissed you slowly, deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of your mouth. The way you called his name when you’re on the verge. And no matter how rushed you always seemed, how transactional the act often became, Bob still chose to take his time with you.

He liked taking his time. He loved the quiet reverence of undressing you. He loved the way your lashes fluttered when his lips brushed over your sternum, the way your body shifted closer to his when he whispered your name like a secret only he was allowed to keep. He loved holding you after, even if you never stayed long enough for the warmth to settle. But more than anything, he loved the illusion that—just maybe—in those few moments when your walls slipped and you let him in, there was something real there. Something delicate and unspoken, lingering in your gaze when you thought he wasn’t looking.

And yet… he didn’t know if you felt any of it. Because despite the softness he tried to give you, you always seemed to crave the opposite. Rougher. Harsher. Faster. You’d grab his wrist and whisper things into his ear that made him stiffen—not from arousal, but from hesitation. You wanted to be taken, devoured, dominated. And Bob, despite everything in him that ached for tenderness.

He never liked hurting you. Not even a little. Bob had never raised his voice at anyone, let alone his hand and even less in the bedroom. But when you asked him to squeeze your throat, or pull your hair, or slap your ass hard enough to sting, he found himself doing it anyway without really thinking. Because maybe if he gave you what you wanted in bed, you’d give him what he wanted after. Maybe if he made you come hard enough, fast enough, often enough, you’d stay.

But you never did.

He remembered the first time you asked him to spank you hard. He stopped dead in his tracks, your request pulling him out of the rhythm like a jolt of cold water. He just blinked at you, silent and stunned. He never had been against the idea of spicing things up a bit, be he didn’t want to treat you like you were just a thing he could manhandle under the sheets. You’d only looked at him—expression unreadable—and waited. And when he finally said no, softly but firmly, you nodded without a word and carried on like nothing had happened. You never asked again.

Until last week. 

You had your hand around his, lifting it gently to your throat. The request was clear. And this time, Bob didn’t freeze. He told himself it was different. He told himself it was okay, that it turned him on, that the way your eyes fluttered closed when he complied meant something more. That you trusted him, even if you’d never admit it. But afterward, as he laid there—heart thudding, mind racing—he hated himself for how quickly he’d said yes.

He hated that no matter how much care he gave you, you never let him return the favor. He could never soothe your hair back, or ask you how your day had gone, or even cook you breakfast. He was only allowed to make you come. Then you’d vanish again, like smoke between his fingers.

And he told himself, over and over, maybe it’s for the best. You had your own life, your own rules, your own barriers he was never meant to cross. Maybe this was all you’d ever wanted from him—an outlet, a body, a silence he wouldn’t break.

But God, it broke his heart.

Because he didn’t want to be just a fuck. Or a situationship. Or some pitiful guy who waited for a knock on his door like a dog waiting to be fed.

He wanted you. The version of you who existed in those soft, rare seconds when your guard slipped. He wanted to reach past the cold exterior and find the heart you kept hidden behind all that distance. And he wanted, desperately, for you to want him too—not just the sex, but the man beneath it.

But all he had were bruises on his neck, scratches on his back, and the aching suspicion that what you gave him was the only thing you were willing to give. And that maybe… that was all he’d ever get.

Hangman snapped him out of his reverie with a childlike comment. “Forget it baby on board, what that girl needs is a man, a real one.”

“Huh ?” Bob blinked, still half lost in the sight of you from across the room, your back rigid with the same tension he could still feel in his own chest.

“Don't play innocent, I saw you looking at Grumpy” once again he felt that wave of heat rush up his neck, the burn that settled somewhere between embarrassment and guilt. He reached for his water and sipped it just to avoid answering, but the pause only gave Hangman more reason to keep going.

“Oh no,” he gasped mockingly, leaning in with that infamous smirk stretched across his face, “don't tell me you've got a crush ?”

Bob's grip tightened on the bottle, fingers blanching slightly. He didn't know what burned more—the truth of it, or the fact that someone else could see it so easily, could put words to what he still struggled to admit to himself. But he said nothing. He couldn’t. Not when the reality of what they had—what he wanted it to be—was so fragile, so easily ridiculed. He wanted to throw a chair, or at the very least, throw Hangman across the room. But before he could retort or even form a coherent sentence, Phoenix swooped in like the blessed hurricane she always was.

“Wait a minute, why am I not invited to the hard deck ?” she interrupted, voice playfully wounded as she nudged Bob’s shoulder. “What, no girls allowed now ?”

She winked at him, and he managed to let out a short breath of laughter—more relief than amusement. The attention shifted away from him, just enough for him to retreat back into the safety of silence. Just enough to pretend everything was fine.

But nothing was fine.

Nobody knew about your relationship—not a soul in the squadron. And that’s how you wanted it. You’d made it very clear, from the very first night, that this was not something meant for daylight. Not for shared glances on base, or affectionate goodbyes in the hangar, or teasing from teammates. It was private. Locked behind doors and zipped up with uniforms. 

That should’ve been Bob’s first warning. The secrecy. The way you never stayed long enough to be vulnerable, never gave him a name to what you were. Never let him kiss you in the morning.

As he stared down at his sandwich, half-eaten and forgotten, the dull ache in his chest grew heavier. The teasing, the smirks, the laughter of his teammates—it all buzzed around him like white noise. He wasn’t really here. Not anymore. Not when you sat just across the room, eating alone like you always did, shoulders hunched, eyes glued to the tray in front of you like it might open up and swallow you whole.

Bob glanced up again. And once more, you were gone.

You were always gone.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─── ««

Bob had rushed home from work that evening, like he always did on the nights he knew you might come. He’d showered, changed twice because the first shirt had a stain on it, he lit a candle before making sure his apartment was as clean as possible, even though you never seemed to really care about that. He even found himself preparing a sauce, in the hope that at some point you'd settle down to eat together. Maybe tonight you would sit long enough. Anyway, Bob told himself not to except anything. He knew better and did all this, obviously expecting you to run away from him once you're satisfied, as usual.

And yet he waited.

He doesn't want to rush you, because he loves the time you two spend together. Sometimes, for just a moment, he looks at you and feels a warmth of comfort deep down inside. If only you knew how he felt, whether it's at night when it's just the two of you, or even at work. When you're alone in your corner, without anyone noticing, he likes to watch you attentively. Admiring your sweet face, your curves in your khakis, the way you behave... He likes to think that you too feel this unique feeling when you're together, that you too look at him discreetly at the base. Even sometimes at night when he's alone in his bed, sniffing the cushion next to him that still carries your scent and imagining that you're thinking of him at that very moment. He wishes that everything he imagines wasn't just an illusion and could become reality.

Finally, you showed up. Late, as usual. The doorbell ringed like a match struck against silence. 

“Hi-”

You didn’t even let him finish and kissed him, lips hard and urges, pushing him back into the apartment. The door slammed shut with the force of your foot. You peeled off your shirt without ceremony, your breath ragged. “Had a shit day,” you muttered before claiming his mouth again, your hands roaming over his body. 

“Grumps-” he tried but you swallowed the word with another kiss, already undoing the fly of his jeans. 

“I need you” you moaned, your voice low. “Fuck me... please” you almost begged as you looked at him for the first time since you barged in.

Bob, breathless and already hard beneath you, met your gaze. You tried to hold it, but your eyes slipped away. He didn’t stop you and let his body fall on the couch. You pushed down the waistband of his underwear, your hand wrapping around his cock like a demand, not a touch. He watched you use his body for your own needs. The way you were trying to hurry, as if you wanted to get rid of something. Your movements too fast, like you were trying to erase something with the friction.

But then he saw it—your eyes, glassy and slightly red.

“Stop.” His voice cut through the haze. You didn’t move. Or maybe you didn’t heard him. “Y/n,” he said firmer this time. His hands found yours and gently, but without yielding, pulled them away. You finally looked at him, lips parted in frustration, but not anger. Not really. 

“What’s going on ?” he asked quietly, still holding your hands in his.

You pulled away like his touch burned you. “I told you, I’ve had a shitty day. I just want to fuck.”

Detached. Mechanical. But your voice was a crack, not a wall.

“Have you been crying ?” he asked, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“What ? No. I have allergies,” you deflected, eyes shifting away.  

Bob’s didn’t waver, he tilted his head, searching for your face. “Allergies ?" he repeated, voice low. “Right. And I’m just the guy you fuck when it’s easier than telling the truth.”

You froze. Your head turned sharply toward him. He wasn’t supposed to say that. Bob never pushed. But there he was, holding your wrists like they were glass and he was tired of watching them shatter. And you ? You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or punch him. You just wanted to feel something that made sense.

Your voice came out sharper than you intended. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean ?”

Bob didn’t flinch. He didn’t let go either. “It means I’m tired,” His voice was low, but there was steel underneath. “I’m tired of pretending this is enough for me. Of acting like I don’t care when you disappear before I can even ask if you’re okay.”

You scoffed, suddenly needing to move, to breathe. You yanked your wrists free and stood up, pacing to the edge of the living room like the distance could protect you. “So now it’s my fault you caught feelings ?” the tone of your voice surprised you, normally you would never dare speak like that to anyone.

“No—” Bob sat forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, trying to keep calm. “It’s not your fault for being hurt. But you treat me like I’m a fucking stopgap.”

You laughed bitterly. “You think you know me ?”

“I think I want to !” He stood now too, matching your energy but not your distance. “But you won’t let me in. You use sex like armor and silence like a wall, and every time I try to climb over, you vanish.” He sighed, “I’m not that stupid y/n. You can’t pretend it doesn’t affect you neither.”

You turned away, suddenly feeling too bare. His words weren’t knives—they were mirrors. And you hated what they reflected. He waited for you to say something, but when you didn’t, he kept going—his voice quieter now, but not gentler. “I’m not asking for everything, Grumps. I’m not asking you to change overnight. I just need to know I’m not a fucking placeholder until the next time you spiral.”

You scoffed under your breath, arms folding around yourself like armor. “You think this is easy for me ?”

“No,” he admitted. “I think it’s killing you.”

You spun around, heat rushing to your face. “And what do you want me to do, Bob ? Cry in your arms ? Open up like it’s some rom-com bullshit ? What if I don’t know how to be the person you want me to be ?”

“I don’t want you to be anyone else !” he snapped, louder now. The frustration cracked through his voice. “I want you. But you won’t even give me that much. You want me to choke you, fuck you, whatever—fine. I’ll do it, because I’d do anything for you. I’m not just some guy you can fuck and then completely ignore, I have feelings too you know ?! I can fake a lot. But I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t kill me every time you leave like none of it meant anything.”

“It didn’t,” you lied, too fast, too harsh. You couldn’t even look at him anymore. 

Bob took a step back. He flinched like you had hit him. 

The silence after that was unbearable. You looked at your feet, chest rising and falling, your throat tight with everything you didn’t want to feel. You had always tried to flee as quickly as possible to avoid this discussion and yet, there you were, lost in the middle of his apartment. Bob stared at the you, jaw tight, like he was trying to hold himself together with pure will. You knew very well that Bob wasn't stupid. God he might’ve been the most perspective man you’d ever met. Quiet, observant, thoughtful to a fault. He never missed anything—not a glance, not a hesitation, not the way your voice trembled when you tried too hard to sound different. And that terrified you more than anything. 

You’d built yourself like a fortress—silence as mortar. People weren’t supposed to get in. That was the rule. You’d even promised yourself, promised in that quiet, shaking way people make desperate oaths—never again. Never another crack in the armor. Never another slip od truth. Not with anyone. Especially not him.

But, unfortunately for you, Bob had a way of seeing things. Not in the dramatic, spotlight kind of way. It was subtler. Like he’d been listening to your silence this whole time and was finally translating it back to you. And now, standing in front of him, your guard still bristling like a cornered animal, you could feel yourself unraveling. 

You hated it. 

You hated that he hadn’t lashed out at you before — that he’d held it all back, swallowing every one of your careless words, every cold exit, every time you used him as a comfort and then vanished before dawn. He could’ve exploded. He should have. But he didn’t. And that only made it worse. Because now you weren’t sure how to defend yourself.

You weren’t prepared for him to understand you. To see you. Really see you. Not for what you pretended to be, but for what you tried to hide. No one had ever done that before. No one had ever looked at your mess and said, I’m still here.And that… that was the most dangerous thing of all. You couldn’t let your guard fall now. Not after everything. Not after the damage you'd already done.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, wrecked.

“You’re not broken, Grumps. But you treat yourself like you are.”

“I never asked you to fix me.” You snapped harshly, waiting for him to tell you ‘go fuck yourself’ for good.

“I know.” He nodded slowly. “But you did ask me to love you with my hands and not my heart.”

That one landed. Deep.

You stood there for a second, the silence stretching taut between you, balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t name. Then you reached for your shirt—somehow colder than it had been before—grabbing it from the back of the chair with hands that weren’t steady. You pulled it over your head with mechanical precision, trying to keep your breath even, trying not to let it break. He didn’t move. He just watched. His stillness wasn’t passive—it was deliberate. Painfully deliberate. Like he’d trained himself not to reach for you anymore.

You didn’t know what you were feeling. It twisted in your chest like something uninvited, something foreign. Rage ? Shame ? You didn’t want to name it. You didn’t want to feel anything at all. That had always been your rule: don’t let things in. Don’t get used to comfort, or care, or the warmth in Bob Floyd’s voice when he whispered your name like it meant something. Because it didn’t. 

Not really. 

Not in the way that lasted.

You didn’t like this version of yourself—shaky, defensive, confused. You didn’t like the way your body ached to stay, even as your brain screamed to leave. It was cleaner this way. Less complicated. You’d told yourself that a hundred times. He was kind, sure, but kind people still leave, still break things, still choose someone else eventually. You were just getting ahead of the inevitable.

Still, as your trembling fingers closed around the door handle, you hesitated. You knew you were hurting him. But you also believed—deep down, even if it made you sick—that it was better this way. That your exit now would save him from worse later.

Your voice came out lower than expected, unsteady with restraint. “You don’t get to be angry at me for leaving,” you muttered, refusing to turn around. “Not when you knew I always would.”

Bob looked up at your back, eyes rimmed red, but his voice was even. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Before you could walk out, you paused—heart thudding in your chest—and spoke without looking back. “You don’t have to do this, Bob.”

He blinked. “Do what ?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely behind you without turning around. “Playing the hero. Like you’re going to be the one to fix me. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not—” His voice was soft, still trying to understand you, still gentle. Too gentle.

But your blood was roaring now, hot and reckless. You had to say something sharp, something loud, something that would force him to stop looking at you like that—like you fucking mattered.

“But maybe that’s exactly what you’re doing !” You turned suddenly, arms crossed like a shield. “Maybe saving me makes you feel like you exist. Like someone finally gives a damn that you’re in the room.”

That landed. 

His face twitched, just for a second, like you’d pressed right on a bruise. 

You knew it wasn’t fair—and that was exactly why you said it. The shame crept in instantly, bitter and electric under your skin, but you pushed through it, pushing him further.

“You’re the quiet guy.” you bit out, every word tighter, unable to stop. Eyes narrowing, heat rising in your chest. “The one no one notices unless you’re flying or being polite.”

His brows knit slightly, lips parting like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. And you hated how that made you feel—like you’d won some battle you never wanted to fight. So, you went further. You had to. Because if you didn’t, you might cave. You might stay. You might fall into him and forget why you built all these walls in the first place.

“So what,” you spat, “you find someone like me—messy, broken—and suddenly you matter ?”

Silence. Again.

Fuck you hated yourself, really hated yourself.

His jaw twitched this time, but he still didn’t respond. He looked at you like he was trying to see past the storm you were throwing, trying to reach the version of you that wasn’t lashing out. 

“You keep acting like you care, and maybe you do,” you continued, voice cracking just once, “but don’t pretend it’s not just another way to make yourself feel good. Because if you really cared, you’d stop making this harder.”

“I’m not trying to—”

But you cut him off. Not because his voice was harsh, but because it wasn’t. Because it was too soft, too patient, too kind. Because if he kept speaking like that, your legs might give out from under you. Because if he forgave you now, you wouldn’t deserve it.

“I don’t want your tenderness Bob !” you snapped, voice cracking with more frustration than pain. “I didn’t ask for it, and I sure as hell don’t know what to do with it.”

The silence was crushing him. He stared at you, stunned, like he wasn’t sure if he should be angry or just heartbroken but didn’t say anything at first. He never saw you like that. His brows pulled together, eyes wide with disbelief. He just looked at you, his eyes reflecting a thousand things he didn’t know how to say. He looked at you like you’d just undone something sacred between you with a single tug.

And you had.

His mouth opened, but no sound came. His face—usually a calm ocean—shifted. Confusion. Disappointment. Pain. He was trying to figure out if this was still you. The real you. Or just another version shaped by fear. And that made you furious. Not at him but at yourself. For letting him in. For giving him space in your head, your heart, and your goddamn body.

“Jesus,” you muttered, barely breathing. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of what I could be if I let you in. But I’m not someone’s chance to feel brave. I’m not your fucking spotlight.”

Bob’s breath hitched, and he stared at you like he’d been hit across the face. His throat worked around a response, but none came. He shook his head, slow, the way people do when they’re still holding out hope that they misheard you. That maybe you’d take it back.

“You really think that low of me ?” he asked quietly, like the answer would split something open in him either way. “After everything ?”

And right there—right in the middle of that moment—you saw it. The hurt in his eyes. The way he didn’t fight back. The way he let you throw punches without throwing any himself. The way he looked at you like you weren’t a burden, or a project, or some broken bird to fix—but like you were human. Messy. Complicated. Worth it anyway.

It should have made you feel powerful. But instead, it made your stomach sink. Because you knew you’d gone too far. You were always going too far.

You wanted him to walk away, but not like this. Not with that look. Not when part of you wanted so badly to stay. Yet, you said nothing. Because taking it back would mean exposing the part of yourself you’d spent years hiding. The part that needed him.

You didn’t answered because the answer wasn’t even real. It was just fear talking and he knew it. Bob’s jaw tightened, the smallest flicker of something steeling behind his gaze.

“You should go.” he said, his voice barely holding together. “I’ve heard enough.”

It shattered whatever part of you had been hoping he’d stop you. That he’d reach out and catch you the way he always had before. 

So you turned.

You stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door open just long enough for him to wonder if you'd turn around.

You didn’t.

Because you couldn’t.

Because if you did… you’d break.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─── ««

Bob’s masterlist | next part

[daceydeath]

Like an Animal

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Hyunjin Word Count: 1.3K Genre: Dark smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities, Dubious Consent

They are magnetic, hypnotic and almost feral this was not what you thought it was going to be

It wasn’t meant to be like this, your life wasn’t meant to end like this, but here you were pinned to a wall by your own paralyzing fear as two things snarled and fought with each other. Dread filled you as the larger one pinning the thinner one to the ground only for him to be flipped onto his back by a twist of the thinner's long legs. Yet still you couldn’t move the crippling sensation making your feet feel as though they were encased in lead boots. 

“I saw her first” the broad one hissed his voice low, his eyes dark and vicious.

“That doesn’t mean shit Chan and you know it” the other snapped glowering.

“It means I get first dibs Hyunjin” he continued the authority in his voice growing as he stood straight, Chan you now knew, wide back covered you completely from viewing the one that was called Hyunjin.

“Fuck you” Hyunjin mumbled. 

“Nah I’d rather fuck her” Chan replied the lavicious smile that was surely covering his face leaking into his voice.

“Fair point” Hyunjin chuckled darkly, moving so he could look at you again for the first time since he had burst into the room to attack his friend. His eyes slowly appraised you growing hooded as he licked his lips. “Pretty”.

“More than pretty” Chan smirked finally turning to look at you his deep ebony eyes meeting yours for a moment before you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs, turning your head to look away you flinched as he took your chin in his long fingers moving your head so you were facing him again, once again meeting your eyes staring into them for what felt like a hours until you forgot to fight him.

“That’s it baby girl, there you are” he murmured softly the gravel tinge to his voice becoming almost smokey as he spoke “Hyunjin didn’t mean to scare you, you’re just too beautiful and he got a little carried away”. 

“That’s true beautiful, I didn’t want to scare you. I was just jealous of Channie getting to spend time with you” Hyunjin smiled, his handsome face joining Chan’s as the only thing you could focus on. Unable to stop yourself you nodded slightly and watched them both grin in return, something about them appearing more ethereal than normal men making a voice in your head scream for you to leave to run. Chan’s fingers trailed up your arms leaving a trail of goosebumps covering your skin. The magnetic pull that was drawing you closer was winning out over the part of your psyche that was trying to save you.

“Do you want to spend a little bit of time with us baby girl?” Chan smiled slyly, already knowing that you were going to agree to whatever he asked of you, you were becoming move pliant by the second.

“Yes” you breathed watching an animalistic grin flash across both of their faces before soft plump lips met yours, Chan’s kiss started gently drawing you closer with his large hands on your waist but it changed quickly to a dominance that overwhelmed you. Hyunjin’s hands roamed across your chest, his long noble fingers undoing the buttons on your shirt easily before his rough palms began squeezing and palming your flesh.

The taste of beer and something metallic tinged your tongue as Chan licked into your mouth distraction you from the sounds of your fabric of the clothes tearing in desperation as Hyunjin pulled and tugged you in different directions. 

“Careful Jinne” Chan warned slowly, his voice sounding like smoke as he easily lifted you into the air, the cold painted wall shocking your now heated skin as you collided with it. Your mind vaguely registered that you could feel his jeans against your bare legs as he wrapped them around him but it wasn’t until the blunt, hot tip of his cock entered you splitting your walls open and making you scream, the sharp snap of his hips forcing himself deeper and deeper inside you until he was pushing against your cervix. 

Hyunjin sucked air through his teeth in a hiss as Chan feral growl rumbled from somewhere deep inside his chest making your head spin as he continued to thrust into your increasingly wet walls the loud squelching sound growing with each movement of his hips. You couldn’t do much more than go lip in Chan’a arms as he manhandled you onto the half empty table, the nearest surface for you to lay on his hands encircling your hips to bounce you in time with his hips.

“Fuck I wanna breed her” Chan almost howled his breath coming out is loud pants.

“You said we would share,” Hyunjin snarled, his eyes turning cold as ice.

“She has more than one hole Jinne” Chan chuckled nastily, his hand coming down to slap your folds making your body jolt as your mind began to buzz the only sounds, the distant laughing and white noise of the blood rushing in your ears. “Come on baby girl, let go on my cock”. The noise that tore from your throat sounded so foregin to your ears that you thought is must have been Chan until your began babbling. Your body spasiming as though you had been hit by lightening.

“Shit yes” Chan groaned emptying in wave after wave of his thick hot seed filling you your stomach swelling slightly with how full you were the dull ache as CHan pulled his still hard dick from you. Pulling you upright chan span you around bending you over the table letting you collapse amongst the detritus of empty containers and food wrappers. “Your turn”.

You couldn’t see either of them but you instantly felt the wetness of Hyunjin’s tongue against your clit as he begain feasting on your puffy used cunt, his long fingers wet with his own saliva or Chan’s cum probing into your puckered arsehole carefully stretching and scissoring you open as he flicked and sucked on your clit.

“Ah” overstimulation was burning your nerve endings but Hyunjin continued his exploration of your body. His grunts as he ate you out vibrating up through you making your head grow even foggier “AH”.

A fist tangled into your hair lifting your now drool covered cheek from the wooden surface forcing you to turn your head Chan guided his length into your mouth not giving you a moment to adjust before pushing the fat head of his cock into your throat making you cough and splutter around him, while Hyunjin rubbed his cock through your cum covered slit and pushed himself easily into your arse.

“So tight” he whined desperately rolling his hips to thrust as deeply as he could inside you. 

“Every part of her is tight” Chan laughed wickedly before grunting again, your drool running down your chin and dripping onto the table below you.

“Fuck so good” Hyunjin moaned speeding up his thrusts as he approached his own high, you let them treat you like a ragdoll, pulling and pushing you however they wanted the pleasure in your brain making your consciousness fade in and out as Hyunjin let out a high pitch whimper the warmth of his seed seeping through your lower body.

“Get her on the bed” Chan ordered his voice filled with authority “Need to plug that hole so I can knock her up”. Hyunjin complied pulling his softening dick from you and helping Chan move you so you were laying on your back on the filthy sheets of whoevers bed happened to be closer.

“She’s already fucking swollen man” Hyunjin smirked his fingers ghosting over your lower abdomen “How are you even gonna fit anymore in there?”. Chan didn’t answer, he just spread your thighs and slowly speared you with his cock once again the dull ache that had been there only moments ago easing as he gently began to slide against your velvet walls making you mewl softly.

“Good girl” Chan breathed leaning down next to your ear he breath fanning over your neck and face “Our good girl”. You couldn’t help the way your walls quivered as his teeth sank into your throat, his teeth surely puncturing your skin and numbing your brain completely.

a/n: Thank you for reading my loveliest loves as always I am deeply grateful for your likes, reblogs and comments xx

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[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k (help???)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Wife!Reader, burnout, overstimulation (not sexually), arguing, angst followed by fluff, kiss and make up, virginal fingering, kisses galore, EVENTUAL SMUT, pregnancy sex, bit of body worship (he loves your pregnant body) cowgirl position, sensory deprivation sex.

𝐀/𝐍: I poured my heart into this one, not that I don’t always do but this one in particular just hits closer to home. And yes it’s a vent fic so very very self indulgent.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re tired. He’s tired. There’s only so much stress you can withstand before you reach your tipping point. Luckily your husband is here to keep you grounded

It started off with a throbbing in your head and as irritating as it was, it wasn’t bad enough to disrupt your daily routine. But as the week rolled on, the throbbing sensation began to get worse.

You were becoming easily irritated and it didn’t help with the workload you had to tackle. Even Miguel noticed a change in your mood but whenever he would bring it up and ask you about it, you would deflect his questions and tell him you were fine.

You couldn’t bear the thought of burdening him when your struggles especially when he had his own responsibilities and duties to fulfill.

You knew that if you admitted the stress you were feeling, he would insist that you rest, which was the last thing you needed, especially with how much you needed to get done this week.

You tried your best to ignore the nerves that were stretching to their limits now, but it was proven more difficult with each passing day. You would feel a sense of dread as soon as you got out of bed, mentally bracing yourself for the overwhelming day you had to face.

Your mind was preoccupied now as you reached over the high shelf for the spice jar. Your stomach was jutted out with the new life brewing inside of you, making it harder for you to manoeuvre around.

Just as your fingers brushed against the jar you were after, a sudden voice tore through the room, snapping you out of your trance.

“¿Qué dije sobre pedirme ayuda?” Miguel called out before he went over and stood behind you to take the spice jar you were reaching for. “What if something fell on you?”

“I don’t need help,” you insisted, reaching over to reclaim the jar back from him.

Miguel arched his brow in mild amusement. “You’re struggling to reach the spices, and you’re saying you don’t need help?”

“I’m fine, I’m trying to make dinner,”

“I know I know. But I’m here now so you don’t need to do that tonight,” You knew he was trying to emphasise the fact that he willingly took the time out of his day just to be with you.

Normally, you would be beyond appreciative towards his gesture. With his duties back at Spider Society HQ breathing down his neck all the time, it was a rarity that you both had an evening together like this.

He would either be saving the city or in another dimension, and although you would still be able to contact him through your watch, it would never be the same as having his physical warmth with you.

But right now, you were driven by your stress and too wrapped up in getting the job done to be in the right state of mind and properly enjoy the night.

“Why not? I can still cook you know,” you resorted, pouring some of the spice in the pot before stirring the content.

“And yet, I don’t want you to.” He said firmly before he turned you around to face him and rested his hands on your growing belly, silently conveying his concern for your wellbeing. “Now go sit,”

As the food continued to bubble on the stove, you retreated from his touch defensively. His face twisted in confusion as you questioned, “Why the hell are you doing that?”

His face fell further at your change in tone, “Doing what? Touching you?”

“No, treating me like I’m a basket case,”

“I’m treating you like the mother of my child. You’re pregnant and over exerting yourself,” he tried to reason with you. You attempted to conceal how much your senses were firing right now.

You couldn’t tell if it was the aroma of the cooking that was making you slightly nauseous but you were starting to feel agitated.

“I’m pregnant, not paralysed Miguel. I’m fully capable of doing this myself,” you could see the frown forming on his face and he definitely picked up the hostility of your tone.

“I never said you weren’t capable but I don't want you doing too much,” he argued back, his voice growing more insistent, mirroring your frustration. He wasn’t going to let your stubbornness sway him, even if it did irk you.

You could feel the heat of your vexation rising in your guts. You hated being interrupted in the kitchen especially when you were making dinner. Even if you were tired, you were still going to stand your ground and continue until you were done.

Throughout the last few days there had been a build up of tension that you have been bottling up and you refused to talk about it with him, even if he did ask you about it.

You had no safe outlet for your emotions and now you can feel it taking a toll on your daily tasks. It was almost palpable and you couldn’t control the sudden outbursts you were throwing at your husband right now.

A small part of you knew that he didn’t deserve this harsh treatment you were giving him. But that meek feeling of self awareness was quickly overshadowed by your clouded mind that was skewing your thoughts, unbeknownst to you.

Out of bitterness, you twisted the knob to switch off the stove before you turned to look at him. His annoyed expression didn’t falter, rather you could see his brows furrowed more. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn off the stove?”

“You wanted me to stop, didn’t you?” Now it was your turn to be confused, though you could still feel the lingering coldness.

He was so adamant on you not cooking so why is he still not satisfied when you turn the stove off? What was his problem?

“What are you trying to prove here?” He asked.

The question hit a nerve, the fact that he was insinuating that you had an ulterior motive just by a simple action. It was almost insulting. Was he trying to sound condescending just to throw you off?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,”

Ouch.

“Oh please, enlighten me,” There was an obvious edge to your tone and he glowered at that. You could tell he was really starting to get annoyed when you saw his fangs started to emerge from his canines, something that was only stimulated in the height of rage or arousal.

“Cut the sarcasm. You’re purposely getting on my nerves and it’s working. Now, are you going to answer my question?” His voice demanded clarity from you and you weren’t sure if anything you said would satisfy him.

“Like I said, I’m doing as I’m told. Why are you getting mad?” You snapped back. You didn’t want to admit that what he said made the shadow of sympathy you felt early crawl back again.

He wasn’t aware of the emotions you were keeping inside of you and probably thought you were purposely reacting this way just to pull his leg.

“You know damn well that’s not how I meant with my words,” he was practically growling now and you could see the crimson in his eyes flicker like a flame.

With a weary sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose— a habit that you both seemed to share. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this argument now, it was clear that it wasn’t going anywhere.

The throbbing in your head was back, but now it felt like a pounding sensation reverberating in your skull. Without another word, you turned to leave the kitchen leaving the half-cooked food behind on the stove.

“Where are you going?” You heard him call out from the kitchen before he took a few steps in your direction.

“To the room, I lost my appetite,” You headed your way up to the bedroom. You didn’t hear his footsteps following after you as you closed the door behind you.

You climbed into bed with the blanket over you and made yourself as small as your pregnant belly will allow you. There was a sense of bleakness that was shrouding you now— the underlying stress you’ve been feeling was still there but it wasn’t as overbearing.

With the silence in the room, you’d think you’d be able to calm yourself down a little from the heated interaction you just had, but instead your mind was still racing. You couldn’t stop yourself from straining your muscles no matter how hard you tried.

You tightened your grip on the blanket and buried yourself deeper into the sheets, trying to block out as much of the lighting from the room as you could. You didn’t notice Miguel entering the room until you felt an additional weight on the bed beside you.

For a long moment, all you could hear was his steady breathing and the occasional bed creaking before he spoke out of nowhere. “Well, at least the silent treatment is an improvement from earlier,”

The sarcasm was uncalled for especially now. It made your blood boil. To make matters worse, he kept going. His voice, that you always loved hearing, now sounded like an irritating ring in your ear. “Are you just going to hide under the blanket until I forget about everything?”

“Stop talking….please stop talking!” you pleaded, your voice was quivering and on the verge of tears. You felt like you were at a tipping point, standing on the edge of something already breaking.

The sensory overload from the argument along with the tension was still present, and you desperately needed silence.

There was a long pause and your pulse was thudding in your ears. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he regretted his words just from his silence.

“Do you want me to turn off the lights and go?” His tone quickly switched, a soft caress. You poked your head out of the blanket to look at him.

You felt guilt tugging on your heart after everything that had just happened moments ago. Your husband didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all of this. The least you could do now was end the night on a civil note.

“Turn off the lights but don’t leave me,” you requested. Without wasting a beat, Miguel got out of bed to turn off the lights before he climbed back in to embrace you.

The room was dark but you could still see his silhouette against the Nueva York city skyline from the bedroom window.

“Could you hold me? Please?”

“Of course,” his voice was a soothing balm against your firing nerves. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the blanket away and moved onto his waiting arms as he leaned against the headboard.

You settled onto his lap and you felt his broad arms wrap around you. Your eyes started to leak with your heated tears and before you could stop yourself, you broke into a sob.

“Just breathe, I’m not going anywhere. Take your time,” He muttered against the crown of your head. You rested your head against his chest with his heart thumping softly near your ear.

The throbbing was starting to ease and the relief that followed after came in waves. All that weeks worth of pent up tensity was released in one night through your tears.

With the absence of the lighting along with the silence, it was easier to reach the mellow state that your body was screaming for.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” you rambled, a sense of remorse crashing down on you like a storm.

“It’s okay…I feel like we should talk about some things though,”

“Like what?”

“How we should handle potential fights in our marriage. I don’t really like the way we argue and get at each other's throats so quickly,”

You let his words sink in. The mere thought made your heart ache. The situation would’ve never escalated this far if you hadn't talked to Miguel earlier. Instead you let things boil over.

“It’s my fault…”

“Why do you say that?”

“I kept brushing you off when you wanted to be there for me,” you admitted, a bitter irony taunting your confession.

In retrospect, you’ve witnessed Miguel struggle to open up about his feelings while you were still in the early stages of the relationship.

Even during your marriage, it was a huge step for him to finally be completely emotionally open with you. You’ve noticed how much your relationship has flourished since then and how closer you felt with him.

But now the tables have turned tonight, with you leaving Miguel oblivious to the series of weary emotions you were experiencing. You knew it wasn’t healthy for you or the baby growing inside you to carry such stress alone.

“I noticed the way you were struggling the past few days. I just wish you were more vulnerable with me and not feel like you have to put on a brave face just for my sake,” Miguel explained.

“I dont…I don’t really know where to start,” You tried to rack your brain and coordinate how to express the tension you’ve been feeling the past few days. It was difficult to pinpoint on one thing and string the words together.

“Everything just feels so overwhelming and too much for my brain to handle…even the clock ticking makes me want to rip my head off,” you clutched onto his shirt, a feeble attempt to hold onto your crumbling composure. “I don’t know if it’s the hormones from the pregnancy or a burn out. Or maybe both,”

“I’m leaning towards burn out since you’re showing all the signs, you’re easily irritated and I can see you’re overstimulated from the smell of the cooking to the lighting in the room,”

“Maybe you’re right,” you agreed softly. A lot of issues could be contained just by not saying anything. You seemed to be acutely aware of your own hesitation when it came to voicing your emotions.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share your feelings with Miguel; rather you didn’t know how to and feared the unknown reaction that may follow. You weren’t used to being this vulnerable.

You knew that you would rather hear Miguel share his emotions, even crying on your shoulder, than have him be silent. It was only fair that you took your own advice. Here you were advocating for openness, while grasping onto your own reticence.

“Could you do me a favour?” You asked in the midst of the silence that was shared between you.

“Of course,”

“I understand that you don’t want me to lift a finger especially while I’m pregnant but could you not try to intervene when I’m in the kitchen. I don’t like sitting around and I want to keep myself busy,”

You could sense the hesitance from him as he drew in a shaky breath before he spoke. “…yeah I can do that”

“You already have a lot on your plate,”

“I do, but promise me that you won’t leave me in the dark when you need something from me,”

“I promise.” You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page Spiderman,”

Even if your view of him was obscured by the darkness in the room, you could still see his lips twitching up from your comment. “Mhmm that’s not an excuse for me to be a neglectful husband to you. So don’t act coy with me,”

“Oh I know. I’m just finding an excuse to be a smartass,” you teased him further by kissing along his jaw. Feeling his body tense from your touch, even if it was subtle, was a huge ego booster.

“Was that supposed to throw me off or something,” you could hear the groan he was trying to hide at the back of his throat as he spoke and it made your stomach flutter.

“Maybe,”

“Uh huh, you definitely did that on purpose,”

“I’ll do it again,”

“And I’ll kiss you right back,”

“Alright bet,” Before he could retaliate, you were bold enough to lap over his lower lip with your tongue. A low moan could be heard from him in response.

It was rare for you to initiate such a confident move like this but there was an undeniable spark and you didn’t want it to go just yet. The bleak mood from earlier was now forgotten and was replaced with arousal.

You pulled away to reposition yourself so you were fully facing him on your lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

His grip on your waist tightened in response drawing you closer to him until your bump was pressing against his torso. “You have no idea what you got yourself into,”

Finally with a longing that built in your stomach, you leaned in until your lips met in a fervent kiss. The weight of your doubts and anxiety was now completely diminished as you felt a magnitude that pulled you into bliss.

You felt him run his tongue over your lips and you parted them slightly in response. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, completely taking over your mouth with a low groan.

As you pulled away, breathless with desire, you couldn’t help but tease, “Too much or not enough?”

To which he responded, “Not even close to enough,”

“Good, then I’ll keep going. You’re not getting the upper hand here,” you were beaming at your own words.

But your confidence was cut short when you noticed his hand reach over and slipped under your pants and past your panties until his fingers were grazing against your folds.

Feeling the air that brushed against your slickness was enough to humble you. You didn’t realise how soaked you were until you felt yourself suction around him greedily as he pushed both his middle and ring finger in.

“You’re saying that now, just wait until I’m inside you,” he was taunting you, completely throwing you off but you would happily let his fingers do all the talking now, even if it was at the expense of your pride.

Your hand immediately reached to grapple onto his biceps to keep yourself steady. If it wasn’t for your restricted mobility from your bump, you would’ve started rolling your hips to ride on his fingers.

But instead you allowed him to do all the work. Your head rested on his shoulder and you moaned into his neck as the pad of his thumb rubbed against the sensitive nerves of your clitoris.

He dragged his fingers out, now wet from your arousal, and slowly ran it over your folds. The first thing you felt after he pulled his hands away from your cunt was his hard on, pressed against you.

You would’ve started grinding against him with how needy you were if he didn’t hold you still. He held you by the side and moved you off his lap so he could remove his pants and boxers before lying down flat on his back.

You didn’t need the light to know that his dick was standing on its end with beads of precum leaking from the tip. You removed your own clothes and felt the cold air slap on your cunt.

“Ven acá amor,” his voice was inviting and you’d be a fool to deny him.

You let him guide you, given his enhanced vision that allowed him to see in the dark. Both hands were on your rear, spreading your cheeks before you felt the tip nudge into your folds.

“Oh God-” you whimpered. You felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, sinking yourself lower until you were balls deep. Your hips flushed against him with your stiff clit pressed against the top of his groin,

“No divinity. Just your husband’s dick inside you,” A wide grin spread across his face. His hands were all over your growing belly, feeling the warmth of you and the occasional kick of the baby.

“Que bonita,” he said in awe. A sense of pride washed over him knowing he was the one who knocked you up, the woman he loved and the mother of his future child. “Muy linda tu barriga,”

You seemed to be more sensitive to his praises especially given the fact that you were getting cock drunk now.

Ever since your bump was starting to show, Miguel never missed the opportunity to praise you. He wanted you to feel proud of your physique and not be hesitant on your changing body.

His hands reached over to hold your waist before he piston his hips up and took control of the pace. You could tell he was holding back from going rough, handling you with extra care.

The feel of him thrusting inside was enough to knock the senses out of you until you were high from bliss. He was making sure you felt every sensation in full capacity, feeling every crevice of his dick being caressed by your silky walls.

His hands reached over to the back of your neck to pull you in until your lips met again. The kiss was disoriented and breathy as he was still trying to maintain his pace.

Each brush of his lips on yours was feeding into your ecstasy. You pulled away and nestled into his neck, taking in his dick so well.

“That’s it, let me make you feel good. Let me make you forget about your problems, amor,” he whispered lovingly in your ear.

“Miguel…” you couldn’t form a proper response, your moans of pleasure drowning out your voice.

He was so good at making feel this way, reaching optimal pleasure from his touches. With the absence of the lighting you allowed yourself to just physically feel everything he was giving you.

His broad head nudging into your cervix.

His soft whispers fanning against your ear.

His hands all over and worshiping you everywhere he could reach.

“God, you’re so easy to please,” You could tell he was reaching his peak. With one final buck from his hip, he dragged his dick to reach the depth of your cunt before he reached his climax.

You felt the contraction of your walls around him as he drenched his balls inside of you. His grip on you loosened and his dick slipped free from your grasp before deflating onto his thighs.

You whined from the sudden withdrawal and the muscles of your walls relaxed. There were still remnants of his cum that was sticking between your thighs but you would deal with that later.

Miguel kissed the top of your forehead before letting out a deep sigh. You both lay together in each other’s embraces, basking in the afterglow with your breaths merging together.

Amidst the tranquil intimacy, your stomach let out an unexpected growl, reminding you that you skipped dinner.

Miguel chuckled softly, “So, have you still lost your appetite?”

You huffed. “Well it’s suddenly back now that I’ve worked it up in other ways,”

Hot take: cooking together in the kitchen is NOT romantic 🙅🏻‍♀️🗣️ move out of my fucking way and let me work

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Also reminder that I will be interacting and reblogging fic from my second account @lmaoyouwhore

[badguyswin]

”I dare you… to wear this MAGA hat for the rest of the evening!” 

Toby’s heart sank as he heard the dare, yet he begrudgingly accepted the red cap being offered to him. He was attending a house party being thrown by one of his coworkers and, being new at the job, Toby wanted to impress the people he’d be spending much of his time with, so he’d agreed to play Truth or Dare even if it seemed a bit childish for a group of twenty-somethings. A few of them had already picked up on the fact he was not only a bleeding heart liberal but a closeted gay, including Jonah who had been the one to both make the dare and provide the MAGA cap. The item filled Toby was utter revulsion, yet all eyes in the room were on him and he dreaded the thought of being labelled a pussy, so he accepted the cap and resentfully placed it upon his head.

As soon as the garment was firmly wrapped around his skull, Toby was suddenly overcome with a number of sensations that robbed him of his ability to think rationally. Rather than pulling the MAGA cap from his head, Toby sunk down into the sea of new thoughts being installed in his malleable mind: Republican supremacy, traditional gender roles, heterosexual domination, a love of guns and a hatred of the liberals trying to take them, distrust of the mainstream media, and above all else, hero worship of President Trump. Every single thought was foreign to the previously progressive Toby’s mind, yet they had entered his brain with such a tidal wave that all of his previous convictions had been completely washed away.

The changes to Toby’s physical form were almost as dramatic as those to his mindset. His body, once slender and pale, was pumped full of muscle until he could proudly show off a six-pack of abs and a pair of solid pecs, not to mention arms that looked capable of ripping a tree in two and thighs that could crush a watermelon with ease. His feet grew by at least three sizes too and developed a musk that immediately filled up the room. A number of tattoos even appeared on his chest, back and legs while the rest of his skin grew the kind of tan expected of somebody who spent most of their time working on the land under the hot Southern sun. Thick hair sprouted from Toby’s armpits while a goatee formed on the previously clean-shaven man’s face.

There was only one part of Toby’s body that didn’t end up bigger and more traditionally masculine: his cock. Toby had been pretty well-endowed at eight inches, although being as deep in the closet as he was, it was only his hand that had ever gotten any use out of it. He might have been able to use that mighty length to dominate some slutty MAGA chicks if it wasn’t for the fact that the pole was rapidly shrinking, leaving Toby with a measly two inches and a pair of balls the size of peas. It was an emasculating sight, one that filled Toby with the need to overcompensate and assert his dominance in other ways. He’d struggle to ever satisfy a woman with his severely underwhelming manhood - if it could even be called that - but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

He was a straight MAGA man and that meant he deserved everything in the damn world!

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter ten - Hold my hand its a long way down

Pairing: poly chain x reader

Rating: T

Summary: While you and Warriors manage to make it out of the river, okay with some first aid, he has a crippling realization. Everyone gets to go through a portal, and you have another dream.

(Aka: Wars wouldn't let me give him a Gentle Realization, so I had to what him with the angst stick repeatedly. Now he's waxing poetic about grief. Sky is having a bad day, and Four wants to fight whoever made migraines. Also, you have a funky dream.)

Warnings: descriptions of injury, ptsd, angst, grief, cursing, water

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

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You break the water with shuddering, wheezing breaths that hurt and send pain shooting up your spine. Your vision has black dots in it, and there's a distinct sense of bad familiarity.

Dull throbbing spikes through your ribs.

Warriors grips your wrist, and you try to focus on that. It gives you an anchor.

He has you. The thought comes from the same place as the dreams, but you know it's true.

Every breath rattles and blood seems to splatter up your throat.

You are still being dragged further and further from the now broken bridge by the current.

Your free arm works to keep you above water, and pain makes your vision blur.

Your only anchor to reality is the hand on your wrist. Pain and fear make a great mixture to cause confusion for you.

You manage to snag a low hanging branch on reflex well before you register seeing it. Your torso hurts, and your head pounds as you grip the branch with every bit of determination you have.

Apparently, you have a lot of will.

(You probably need it to keep up with the heroes of courage. They can be more stubborn than a mule.)

The bark is rough as your hand clings with every ounce of determining you have.

Warriors manages to get to your side and grab the branch with his hand after struggling.

You take your now free hand to grip the branch with both hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Breathing hurts," you wheeze in a horrible rattle.

Warriors loses all the blood in his face and does an impressive job of cursing up a storm in words that barely register.

Pain and dread lace your entire being.

Warriors drags himself to the shore with the branch. He's so strong. And handsome...

He turns and looks to you, holding out and hand and saying something -

What is he saying?

You really should work on getting to the river bank.

You slowly, painfully, and shakily inch yourself to the river bank.

Spots swim in your vision.

("Slow breaths, Dove. If you hyperventilate, it makes it worse faster," a man soothes weakly as he holds you to his chest.)

You focus on breathing slowly and inching your hands along.

The water pressing against your ribs is torture.

Wheezing coughs and half escaping whines sound without your permission or knowledge.

The sensation is familliar, like the dream from before with the spear...

Does he feel the similarities?

You just have to get to Link Warriors. He'll help.

He always helps. He's so good. He's a great hero.

He's so sweet to you, always helping you out.

As soon as you're in range, Warriors grabs your waist and yanks you up out of the water and onto land.

He stands you up carefully, supporting you as you fight gravity. His hands sit on your waist and your shoulder, a familiar and welcome weight.

His hands are so warm.

He's like the sun because he's... your head is too dizzy to finish the thought.

There's something in your bag you need. What is it?

The thing is... red.

You like red.

( It's a pretty color that means safety and apples and maybe some pink fur?

Bag.

Your bag has the thing you need.

"Stay with me," Warriors says.

You blink, vision blurring as you try to meet his gaze.

"Link," you slur, fighting for clarity.

The name feels so nice on your tongue.

Warriors makes a punched out sound.

You set your hands on his biceps, trying to smile. He shouldn't look so upset.

"My bag. Red... thing," You manage.

-------

"Link," you slur out.

His name on your lips like this shakes something loose.

He never told you his name was Link -

Oh.

Oh, Golden Three, you're his Dove.

You're ... you.

He can't lose you.

Not again.

Not like this.

The wheezing breathes claw at his heart.

A sound punches its way out of his throat as his heart clenches.

Your hands flop up onto his biceps as he keeps you steady and you grimace.

"My bag. Red... thing," you say weaker.

Warriors dosen’t understand. Your bag?

Red thing?

What could a red thing possibly-

A potion.

You must still have that red potion Legend gave you.

Warriors owes the vet a huge debt of thanks. The potion may very well be your saving grace, and no one else thought to leave you a lifeline but the grumpy man.

Hylia bless Legend, Warriors is getting him something. Later, though.

Now, he has to focus on you.

"Okay, okay, hold on. Let me get your bag," Warriors soothes as his voice trembles.

Warriors moves you around until he can get into your bag, and he focuses as hard as he can on getting the potion.

Your bag is soaked inside.

He digs around blindly until his fingers close around a wet bottle. His finger brush something small and wooden, soaked through but irrelevant to him in the moment.

Warriors pulls out the bottle and looks back to you.

You're looking and sounding worse by the second.

"Stay with me, Dove. Come on," Warriors all but begs.

He moves you again so he has the bottle to your lips.

"Link?" You slur again, helplessly.

His name in your voice is the best and worst thing. He can not help but preen at the fact you are back and saying his name, but you are still in danger of leaving again.

"Drink this, it'll help," he instructs firmly.

Warriors tips the bottle and breathes out a sigh of relief as you drink the potion.

He holds you as you groan, keeping you upright as the potion starts its work.

Your form slumps into him, soaking wet and wheezing but alive.

You groan again, blinking as your gaze seems to sharpen.

That is reassuring, you are probably more aware.

Warriors is saying sweet nothings on reflex. They are reassuring and soft.

"Wars?" You groan.

Back to his nickname then, but you sound more coherent, which is good.

"Right here de- do you feel better?" He asks, stuttering over the start of an endearment and tripping over the question.

You sigh and give a weak laugh. "I don't think it's done... but yes. Thanks for helping me."

"It's nothing," Warriors manages. "If it's for y- it's what anyone would do."

He could curse himself. You haven't brought up that you're his Dove.

He should respect that.

When are you from, anyway?

Where is your Link? Is that why you haven't brought it up?

Or do you just not remember and almost dying made you so delirious you thought he was your Link?

He isn't sure what he wants the answers to be.

(That's a lie. He wants you to remember, and he wants you to want him still. He wants to be good enough.)

"Well, I'm still thankful," you say.

"I - we should try to find the others," Warriors manages.

You nod, "Probably a good plan..."

"We can wait until you're all the way healed?" He suggests.

"I... if we could wait til breathing doesn't hurt, I'd appreciate that?" You manage.

Warriors nods, "Of course."

He could never make anyone move after that unless there are bigger issues, let alone make you do so.

Oh.

Oh, you're here.

You're here.

You're alive.

Those wheezing coughs from before are not the same seal of fate this time.

Wherever your Link is, he is not losing you today.

Warriors aches to kiss your face and soothe you further, but you don't seem to want that from him.

Does your Link know where you are?

Does he think you're already gone?

Do you... remember being his Dove?

Warriors looks at your face and gets lost in your eyes.

He dosen’t mean to!

It's just so easy.

He never thought he would see your eyes again!

Yet, here they are. They are just as easy to drown in as he remembers.

Sunlight hits them just right, and he thinks you look ethereal.

Oh, Warriors has done nothing but miss you since that horrible ambush.

How long has he been wasting time with you?

Knowing that you are you makes things so much better, but also so much worse.

You still seem more than happy to ignore your shield and entirely too willing to be someone's shield anyway. This is something he'll have to help you stop. This habit will not be your end a second time, not on his watch.

How is he to interact with you now? You are still so achingly you, and yet you seem unaware or unwilling to bring up the past.

Warriors can't help but wonder how many lives there are between this version of you and the version that he yearns for.

Does it even truly matter?

It's you no matter what.

You with your unyielding love.

You with your hidden stubborn streak that you have to have to keep up with heroes.

You with your empathy and kind heart.

Dove isn't a good enough name for you. You are far kinder and more lovely than any symbol Warriors knows.

"Are you okay?" You ask, voice cutting through his poetic thoughts.

Warriors gives his most reassuring smile, "I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Aside from the portal that just opened, I'm good," you say with a shrug.

Portal?

Warriors looks over, and sure enough, there is a portal right there.

"We need to find the others," Warriors says immediately. "We can't just go through without them."

You hum, looking over to him. "No one left behind then?"

"No one left behind," Warriors says as he pushes away memories.

You give a soft nod, face twisting as if you, too, have unpleasant memories at hand. However, after a moment, you look at him and nod again. "I guess we should go find them."

"We should."

You take a deep breath, moving to check your bag for something. You seem to find it, letting out a laugh of relief before closing your bag.

Warriors watches as you set your shoulders and look to him with an emotion he isn't willing to examine.

"Any idea how to start?" You ask.

"We should probably walk towards where we last saw them," he says with confidence he isn't sure he feels.

Your gaze burns him in the best way. He feels as though he is Icarus.

Should he get too close to the sun, he shall fall, and should he get too close to the sea, he shall fall then too.

You are the sun. His sun.

The sea is being too far from you.

You give him a half nervous grin, and he just wants to make you understand you never have to be nervous about him.

"Ready?" You ask him.

He is willing to do anything and go anywhere for you.

Warriors nods, "I am."

"Let's go then," you offer.

You both start walking along the river, upstream in hopes of seeing your group.

-------

Four goes through the portal last with Legend at his side.

The world flips and spins and does some strange third thing. His head throbs, and light hurts.

Four emerges with the start of a killer migraine, gaze sweeping across the group, and their sour expressions.

Gone is the forest.

They are in the middle of some grassy plain area.

Lovely.

"That's everyone except Warriors and (Y/n)," Hyrule calls.

"We should stay here. Maybe they just have to come here too?" Wind offers.

Four just bites his cheek. He doubts that very much, but it's all he can do to stay upright just now.

Spooky is pacing around Wind for the most part, though they do loop around the entire group every so often.

"They could be anywhere," Legend says tightly.

"I'm starting to think (Y/n) is cursed," Wind sighs heavily.

The entire group either winces or flinches at that.

Legend actually makes a sound that sounds painful. "That would be wild..."

Four turns his attention to Legend.

The veteran knows something.

Something big.

Four files this information away, under the label 'to deal with when the light dosen’t feel like a lobotomy will feel kinder'.

Screaming draws his attention.

Two figures fall out of a portal a good ten feet up, flailing.

"I HATE PORTALS!" Your voice shrieks.

Four groans at the volume, but he is right behind you on the sentiment.

Legend is cursing as he runs forward in a burst of speed towards you.

Spooky darts off with the veteran.

You and Warriors hit the ground in a nasty belly flop with a loud thud and several groans.

Four winces. Falls like that are never any good.

The entire group starts towards you.

Four stops with the others a few feet from you.

You and Warriors are pushing to sit on your knees, groaning.

"I don't know who's making those portals, but I don't think I like them," you groan weakly.

Legend chuckles weakly as he hovers at your side. He looks you over closely, "You look like shit, what happened?"

Twilight elbows the veteran sharply. He hisses a sharp "Legend."

Four thinks the motion is well deserved.

"You're okay!" Wind says.

Spooky seems to think you are well. They launch at you, knocking you onto your side and demanding your attention.

"Ack- Spooky!" You wheeze in a laugh.

Spooky is purring as they headbutt your shoulders and arms, weaseling closer.

Four bites his cheek again, closing his eyes against the image of you happy and alive.

For all that you are not his jewl, you are as close as he will get. Every chance he has to re-write the last time he saw them is one he will take.

"You know Spooky has been upset?" Wind prompts.

Four has to bite back the urge to correct the teen. 'Upset' is a nice way to put it.

'Anxious and borderline territorial' is a better way to say it.

The panther is not keen on anything outside the chain when you are missing. Frankly, Four is just glad the panther likes the heroes enough to not kill them.

"Aw, pumpkin, it's okay. I try to keep the accident to near death experiences or better," You coo.

Four opens his eyes and nearly asks if you are experiencing a concussion. Nothing you say is making any sense.

"What if we kept the accidents to zero?" Warriors asks with a look that shows he dosen’t believe it possible.

"I like the sound of that," Legend agrees.

"I don't control the rate at which my life is threatened," you say as you sit up.

Spooky is sprawling across your lap now.

Four is pretty sure he's going to die of a heart attack now. You are trying to terrify him and everyone else.

"Just remember you have a shield for a reason. Okay?" Warriors sighs heavily.

You give a nod, "Okay."

Four isn't sure why that matters so much, but it seems to. Something nags at him, but he can't place it.

The smithy watches you try to push Spooky away si you cab get up.

"Come on, Spooks," You coax, "let me up."

The panther seems to go boneless, stopping you from getting up.

You groan, "Pumpkin, you're being rude. Let me up."

Wind laughs.

Four watches as you manage to just wiggle and roll side to side until the panther finally stands up from the jostling and disturbance.

You snort.

Four watches as Legend holds a hand out to you, face going strange. It's soft and guarded at once.

You take Legend's hand with a soft smile, pulling yourself to your feet. "Thanks, Ledge."

"Anytime," Legend manages before he crosses his arms.

Four is not well enough to play detective, but Legend knows something about you, and it's got the veteran acting differently.

The blacksmith just hopes it's not bad news. He can't take more bad news.

Warriors and Legend alike hover by you, both are practically buzzing and watching you intently.

Four... he needs a nap before he deals with any of this.

-------

You end up making camp a mile or so from where the portal was. No one is ready to walk too far, and apparently, they are worrying about you after the river.

They don't need to worry. You're fine, you're breathing and everything!

Telling them that seems a little cruel, so you just tell them you are better now that the potion is done working.

Legend and Warriors are practically hovering near you, and their gazes are heavy.

Sky is far away from you with Time, both of them doing their own thing. The old man polishes his sword while Sky whiddles.

"I still can't believe you're luck. How do you get into so many situations?" Wind asks from where he sits on a low tree branch.

You shake your head, "Who knows? Thanks for the seagull, I think it really is a good luck charm."

Wind grins, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The boy swings his legs happily.

You pull out an apple to toss to Epona and smile when she takes it.

"You make me think a lot of my friend, you even gave the same name," Wind grins.

You choke a little, "Oh?"

"It's good!"

"Then, good?" You manage.

Wind laughs, "I think so!"

"Spooky seems to like you," you smile at the boy.

Wind beams at you, swinging his legs a little faster. "I know! Spooky is awesome! Their purr is so low!"

"I know, right?"

"I can't believe you get a panther, but I can't keep a crab," Wind sighs.

You smile, chest warming in a way that feels nice. "Well, to be fair, Spooky can hunt their own food. How would you take care of a crab right now?"

"We tried that tactic," Legend huffs.

You bite back a laugh, "Oh?"

Wind rolls his eyes, "Moss. It's like forest alagee!"

"Okay, well, don't crabs need the ocean?"

"Well, yeah... I guess."

"How about we just share Spooky, hm?" You offer.

Wond gasps. "Really?"

"Really."

"You're literally the second coolest person I know!"

"Only second?" Legend gapes. "They're willing to share their panther, and you give them second?"

You choke on a laugh, "Who's the coolest?"

Wind gives a bright grin, eyes going incredibly fond like when he talks about his loved ones. "The coolest person I know is my (y/n), they blew up a whole boat of monsters with a well placed bomb flower!"

The idea of doing that sounds... exciting. At least you know your past lives are anything but boring.

"That's - wow," Legend manages. "Of course your best friend is crazy too."

"Be nice," you say easily, shooting Legend a playful huff.

Legend rolls his eyes.

"They're the coolest," Wind grins.

Warriors just smiles tightly, choosing to chime in, "Most (Y/n)s are."

You can't help the way your heart swells. Despite your strange situation, of both not really knowing these heroes and also remembering specific things, you can't help the fondness for your boys.

"You're a flatterer, Wars."

Warriors makes a sound, "Oh."

"Are you okay?" You ask.

"You look like shit," Wind informs helpfully.

"I - it's been a long day," Warriors says.

That's deflection if you've ever heard one, especially from the captain. You frown, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he says.

You let it go.

Dinner is nice, and Wind keeps your attention with stories that may or may not be true. You don't mind, though, sometimes embellishing stories is what makes them fun.

You try to convince the boys to let you take a watch shift tonight, but no one is biting. The idea is dead on arrival.

By the time you go to bed after making sure to give both Epona and Spooky some love, you are dead on your feet. Exhaustion pours off of you in waves.

You set up your bedroll near enough to the for to see and be a comfortable temperature. Wind, Warriors, and Legend all set up their own bedding near you.

Warriors and Legend are both still oddly tense and hovering.

Sky sets his bedroll up near Twilight and Hyrule. He seems to be having such a hard day. Poor thing.

Sleep comes for you quickly. It claims you as easily as it can, luring you to dream land.

-------

"There you are, I was wondering where you ran off to," Link says as he snakes his arms around you from behind.

You laugh, readjusting the picnic basket in your hands. "I was setting up our surprise date, and you snuck away to find me early? Naughty."

Link laughs, hugging you a little closer. "I missed you. I know why we're living on different sides of the cloud barrier - your educational is important, and I'm glad you're doing it! - I just miss you."

You smile, moving to hold the basket in one and turn in his arms so you are pressed together front to front. You wrap your free arm around his shoulders. "I miss you too, but there's two more months of this, and then I'll join you on the surface."

"I know."

You laugh, leaning to kiss his nose.

He wrinkles his nose on instinct, but he smiles at you anyway.

"Come on, help me set out lunch."

"I'll help you with anything," Link says easily as he lets go of you.

"My hero," you hum fondly.

"As often as you need me, Sunshine."

You and Link distribute lunch and fall into easy talking.

You catch up together.

Link tells you about how things are going on the surface. He talks about how the settlement is going and how Impa is. He tells you about Groose's latest schemes and how Zelda beat the man in arm wrestling.

He tells you about the kiwis and about the lack of progress with Fi.

He tells you about Karen and Pippit clearing out bokoblins and falling into a stream.

You tell him above school and work. You tell him about Gaepora's latest assembly and about how you're working on a trick with your loftwing.

You tell him about how Peatrice is still snippy and cool, how she needs to get over her grudge.

It's nice.

You eat and laugh.

When you finish eating and putting everything back in the basket aside from the blanket, you end up with Link's head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his air and smile.

"You're warm," Sky yawns.

"You're going to fall asleep on me, aren't you?" You ask.

You don't mind if he does fall asleep. It's a compliment that he feels comfortable enough with you to do so. Especially after his quest.

"No," Sky says like a liar, though to be fair, he probably believes himself.

You snort fondly, "Alright."

"You know, when I miss you, I find myself playing with the earing you gave me," Link says softly.

You feel your heart swell. The earing is a traditional courting gift in Skyloft. It has a feather from each person's loftwing and shows that the relationship is serious.

Link has his, and you have yours, and they're a set.

"Yeah?" You ask.

Link smiles, soft and indulgent, as he looks up at you. "Yeah. It helps me on bad days, knowing I have your support and love anywhere I go."

"You always will, sweetheart."

"I hope so. You know you have my support and love, right? Forever?"

You can't handle how soft that makes you. It's so earnest that you have no choice but to believe him. "Even if I got hurt and lost all my memories?"

Link nods sagely, reaching for your free hand to lace his fingers through it. He rests your hands by his shoulder and your knee. "I would. I'd love you and enjoy learning about you again."

"You're a sap," you breathe out.

"Maybe. Would you love me even if you lost all your memories?" Link asks.

Why he asks about you losing memories instead of him seems... Important, but you can't say why.

"I think I'd fall for you all over."

"Good."

-------

You jolt awake from your dream, a name on your tongue you just barely bite back.

"Are you okay?" Sky asks softly from where he sits by the fire, carving something from wood.

You take a few deep breaths as you nod. Blinking as you stare at the face from your dream.

You... wow, that's a lot to process.

"I - just a weird dream.... I think I might have been a psychic once," you manage.

Sky nods, "Do you... need anything?"

"No... I just... have a lot to think about."

"Okay."

Sky falls silent, gaze falling back to his church of wood even as his hands stay still.

You take more deep breaths.

Apparently, you called losing your memories and falling for Sky again. Well, you fell for a virtual imitation, but still.

What are you going to do with these memories?

How do you reconcile snapshots of lives that are your own but also aren't?

Are you going to learn something horrible?

All you want is to curl up by Sky right now, mind still clinging to the soft comfort in the dream. You will not do that, but you crave it.

Spooky comes to you from the trees and lays down, pressing along your side before they start purring.

"Spooky really loves you. They nearly jumped after you. Twilight had to scruff them, I think Wild has pictures," Sky offers.

You set a hand on Spooky at pet them ifily. "I can't believe he scuffed a panther."

"Neither did Spooky," Sky huffs.

You smile, stifling a yawn. "I bet."

"I'm... I'm glad you're okay. You scared us when you and Warriors fell into the river, and then we got forced through a portal."

"It scared me too," you admit. You wouldn't say it to anyone outside the group, but they won't tease you. Not for this.

Sky nods, "I'm sure. Do you think you can sleep?"

"I should at least try. Sorry if I startled you," You manage as you lay back down.

Sky shakes his head, "Don't be. Get some rest."

"You too."

-------

Next

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[droaxa]

this game

✧tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 3

✧warnings: kidnapping, bondage, MNDI, reader is touched inappropriately

✧a/n: hey guys this is gonna be the final part of my yandere cheater, i really appreciate all the love i've got so far and i'm excited to show you all what I thought up for the final bit! don't hate me too much for the end haha

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

The first sensation that hits you as you wake is a burning feeling in your throat. you shoot up immediately and go into a coughing fit, what happened? The second sensation is the blinding bright lighting, a harsh white compared to the soft yellow in your dorm. Your eyelids feel stuck as you try to open your eyes, almost as if they were glued together.

You force your eyes open and your surroundings alarm you, even in your drowsy state. This room clearly wasn't yours. In fact, it wasn't Raph's either. You knew his room, messy and boyish but not sterile and clean like this. You observe your surroundings, a mostly empty room with minimal items but all necessary furniture.

Then you locate the cause of the ache in your wrists; two tightly tied ropes connecting you to the bed frame. You try to pull away, hoping the knots will come loose but to no avail. Your legs are free unlike your arms, but bare. You're dressed in a large t-shirt, something you knew Raph owned and just your panties. You dreaded being exposed to Raph in such an intimate way, especially considering that he most likely changed you, but the thin layers were better than nothing.

As if hearing your silent plea that he shouldn't come through the door, Raph enters with the click of the lock unlatching. His smug, almost satisfied look makes you uneasy. What did he have planned for you?

"Finally up sweets? I was gettin' bored without ya" he drawls out, stalking closer to the bed with every step.

You inhale sharply and attempt to pull yourself into a sitting position by your wrists, not wanting to be lying down as that man approached you. But almost as if reading your mind, he crawls into the bed. Grabbing your ankle and pulling you down into a resting position with him over you.

"Uh uh" he tuts, "No runnin' away, but I mean-" he cracks a menacing grin. "It's not like there's anywhere to run to huh?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you plead with him, "Raph please, just let me go and I won't tell anyone what you did. If you have any love or at least respect for me, please let me go"

He cocks his head to the side as if thinking about your demand, then all of a sudden-

BAM!

He's on top of you, hands on either side of your head and legs keeping your legs down. "I'm doing this because I love you, can't you see? I know imma asshole for cheating but c'mon. Don't say you didn't miss me"

You scoff and hiss out your words, "Miss you? You're just a cheating lowlife and psycho who couldn't take what he dished out"

"Psycho?" He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks in the process. "Well yer life is in the hands of this psycho darling, so I'd watch what you say" He leans in even closer, his hair now tickling your forehead. "All I did was prove my love for you, getting rid of that bitch, taking care of my brother. They were all getting in between us"

You try to stay calm but tears start to form in your eyes, he was the one who tore you two apart. Not your friends or his brother. "It was you that got between us. Just because you tried to right your wrongs, in the worst way possible, doesn't mean I need to forgive you"

Like he was waiting for you to say that, he grins again "Forgive me? Oh, you'll be forgiving me soon"

He lifts up your body just enough to allow his larger one to fit under you, you were lying on him. Just like when you were together. His face rests on your shoulder as one of his hands grabs a remote off the bed stand next to the bed, arms encircling your waist with the remote in the front.

He then turns on the TV opposite of the bed, the news network flashes on screen.

A woman dressed in formal wear and a bun appeared at a mahogany desk, her face holding a solemn expression. "A horrible tragedy has struck the local university today" A picture of a university, no. Your university flashes on the screen. "A university student had been found in the dorms on campus, horribly injured" A picture of Ray flashes on screen. No.

"Thankfully, an anonymous tip earlier that day proved to save this young man's life as paramedics arrived on the scene just in time" She continues, "Sadly, he has fallen into a coma due to health complications. So please, we ask you to send your love and strength to this young man's family."

Her face looks sterner now, "The main suspect at the moment is a young woman who owned the dorm the student was found in" No, it can't be- "(y/n) is seemingly on the run at the moment, please notify your local police station if you see her in your city" A picture of you pops up. No, no no.

With that Raph clicks the TV off, grinning. "Oh wow, you really did all that (y/n)?"

You don't say anything, face frozen as you stare at the dark TV.

Raph catches onto your shock and coos in your ear, rough hands caressing your waist "Oh darling you're free to stay here, I mean it's not like you have anywhere else to go"

You turn your head toward him to the best of your abilities and blurted out, "What did you do"

His eyebrows raise as his grin widens, "I didn't do anything, not my fault you decided to move to such a low-security dorm. I mean, no cameras or security guards? Besides, who would believe you?"

You spit out your words with venom, "My parents will, my friends will, Ray will. You won't escape this"

"Oh really, the same parents who are countries away? The same friends who fucked your boyfriend? Don't get me started on Ray, but it's not like that vegetable can say anything"

Your hope starts to diminish, he was somewhat right. Your so-called 'friends' would never vouch for you. It would be a miracle if your parents would come in time to help your case; even if they did, the odds were stacked against you.

And Ray, poor Ray. He didn't deserve this, he deserved the life he always dreamed about. The little farmhouse in the countryside, a beautiful wife, and a few kids. Even if it wasn't with you, he deserved it and so much more.

You couldn't ignore the feeling of Raphs body beneath yours, his hands gripping you. Was this the way it would end? Hopelessly alone, doomed to be unhappy? The one you loved was battling death, barely alive and here you were: unable to to anything but cry.

Were you crying? You snap out of your daze to a strange wetness on your cheeks, salty moistness. Did you deserve to cry? What could you have done differently to stop this? Would things be different if you had never initiated something with Ray, if you had stayed with Raph, if you had never come to this university?

But the hot breath hitting your neck told you everything you needed to know, this was your now, your forever. Trapped in the arms of your merciless captor, one who wouldn't spare even his own family.

Forever bound to misery, the only witness of your downward spiral would be the cold walls of this house. Funny, how it only took a few hours to strip you of everything you were. All that was left now was a husk, a memory of what was before.

Perhaps, he really had won.

a/n: so ik you guys wanted to keep ray alive and technically i did, but i may or may not have twisted it a bit haha. i consider this ending the true ending but i'll take suggestions to write shorter stories on the alternate paths the reader could have gone down to change their fate!

[kissthesunandmoon]

Your Yautja discovers the joys of human hair <3 ( Short Drabble, tight curl/afro edition)

Straight/wavy/loose curl edition here

(Just something short and fluffy as a break from all the smut! Both stories are exactly the same, just altered slightly to be more realistic to which hair type you have, I have also been careful not to mention any length or colour to try to make it as enjoyable for everyone as I can)

The soft sounds of your breathing were all that could be heard in your shared bedroom, fast asleep laying on your mates chest, the gentle rise and fall of his own breath cradling you into a deep sleep. His claws tracing up and down your bare back, completely fixated on your soft skin.

You had been together now for only a couple of weeks and he was only now getting fully comfortable with the idea of touching you, he knew that humans were delicate creatures, but he didn’t know just how delicate. Not wanting to test the theory he had mainly kept his hands to himself, terrified of his own strength against you.

But finally, he was adjusting himself to your body, finding that you weren’t as fragile as his mind had led him to believe. Sure he could hurt you, but he was learning to be gentle. He had to admit, he was rather curious about your body so different to his own. So, he allowed himself fleeting touches here and there, just enough that he deemed wouldn’t bruise your beautiful skin or damage your beautiful body.

When you had clambered on top of him to lie on his chest, you had to remind him once again that he would not break you, and that you would tell him if he caused you even the slightest of discomfort. Now here you were, completely vulnerable and at his mercy, he adored the trust you had in him and vowed to never break it.

As you stirred slightly against you, he watched as your hair shifted with you, moving against your soft skin. He had been curious about that too, it was nothing like his, soft, coiled strands unlike his thick fleshy dreads. It was also different to the furs on his bed, he had never seen hair that spiralled into its own unique beautiful pattern.

Yautja dreads were a type of sensory organ, they could feel, they could hurt and they bled if they were cut. So naturally the first time he saw you tending to your hair and few small strands came out with your wide tooth comb, he had rushed to aid you terrified that you had injured yourself. Once you had explained to him the logistics of human hair, he found himself even more enticed, but still nervous to touch.

Your hair had been absolutely beautiful to him, the way it would bounce slightly when you moved, danced with even the slightest bit of wind and cascade itself against your beautiful skin. He couldn’t deny that from the first day he saw it, he wanted nothing more than to feel it.

Watching as some drifted over your face, he leaned a gentle, slightly shaking hand down hesitating for a moment before gingerly moving it back behind you. Even in just that brief moment, he could feel how soft it was. Reminding himself once again that it didn’t hurt you, he let his hand drift to the back of your head, he nipped a few strands between his fingers making sure not to actually tug on them, to reassure himself of the lack of sensation.

Then, tenderly he let his fingers brush against it, running them along your scalp. He could smell the oils he had provided you to clean yourself with it as he did, and he could feel how soft it was. It was so soft against his rough fingers, seeing that his motion did not disturb your rest, he allowed himself to feel it further. Moving his other hand as well now, he let both of them drift from your scalp, down to where your hair ended.

Becoming more confident, he was soon using his fingers to twirl it around, ensuring he did not to disturb its natural shape, he was still careful not to pull, you had told him that although your hair had no nerves, your scalp certainly did. Getting lost in the feeling, soon he felt a rumbling purr erupt from his chest.

He was like a giddy child now, merrily scooping your hair up, dropping it down, running his hands down its length, cupping it in his palms and just allowing himself to feel it. Then he felt you, stirring once again against him and he instantly stilled, had he hurt you?

But when you looked up at him you gave him a soft, sleepy smile “Are you enjoying yourself there big guy?” You chuckled softly, he felt himself relax and soon his fingers were back at their antics. And soon you found yourself drifting off for a second time, his gentle fingers cradling you back into your slumber.

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au, pt2

Prev

Danny had waited for a bit to make sure no one else was in the cave with him before he started trying to escape. He found out that: trying to shove or push his way out resulted in the horn to honk, flailing around caused the doors, trunk, and hood to open and close, trying to blast his way out turned on the brights, and after getting a little claustrophobic, he caused the windows and roof to roll down. He didn't know the Batmobile was a convertible, he can't really see Batman letting the top down to let wind blow in his pointy ears. That would be silly.

He isn't sure how no one came down to check the noises he was making, that honk was loud in the enclosed area. The bats above definitely didn't like it, Danny felt the need for a couple of showers, which made him wonder how a car wash would feel. There was a loud *ding* noise that snapped Danny out of his pondering, and he saw an older gentleman start wandering the cave and tidying it up. The man did tsk at the car and where it was parked, as well as the mess that was on the vehicle. It wasn't too much later when another *ding* echoed through the cave and the older gentleman greeted a young dark skinned teenager. It was nice to know that the man's name was Alfred and the teen was Duke.

Duke concerned Danny, he kept looking at him, or well, the car, weirdly. Alfred didn't seem surprised that the car was in the spot it was in, he was just annoyed that no one parked it in a better spot. Duke however, looked like the car was creeping him out. Duke looked a little sick when Alfred asked him to move the car and wash it before he went on patrol. Was Danny really that dirty? He could only look out the windows as if he was just sitting in the car, and the hood didn't look that bad.

Duke slowly approached the car like it would bite him. Danny decided to see if he could shift his perspective to the passenger seat so it didn't feel awkward mentally occupying the seat Duke was about to sit in. It was a weird sensation, but Duke seemed to relax a bit after he did so. Danny kept an eye on Duke as he felt the engine turn on, Danny tensed as he felt the car be put into reverse. It wasn't until Duke revved the engine a bit that Danny realized he was keeping the car from moving. Danny tried relaxing a bit and gave Duke a sheepish look. Danny trusted Duke to drive him to where he was supposed to go, and away they went. They parked on a platform a few feet lower than the main chamber; it housed a handful of cars and motorcycles, all of various colors. Danny was among his ‘new’ people now.

The thing about showers and getting clean, it was usually done by oneself, getting cleaned by another person was not a thing Danny wanted to experience again. He made a note to tell whoever cares for him in his old age, to end him before he needs the dreaded sponge baths. It wasn't that Duke was doing a bad job of washing the car, but the water was ice cold, the cloth was scratchy, and he was just left to drip dry! Even his dad would towel off the GAV when it needed a wash, the disrespect of machines today. Danny accidentally made his displeasure known by revving the engine in a way that was almost akin to a growl. Duke scampered away quickly after that.

It wasn't long until the kid stepped back onto the platform and took the yellow and black bike out of the tunnel. Alone again, and now facing the tunnel of freedom.

Now how to get this thing into drive on his own?

HOOONNNNKKKK

*sigh*

______________

Next?

@kizzer55555

@trappednyourheart

@candeartist422

@sebas-nights

@fandom-life-corrupted-me

[gremlingottoosilly]

Normal People Things (dark!141 x fem!Reader)

Soap drags you to his place to meet with his lieutenant. It goes as smoothly as you can imagine. AO3 CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation

The ride is short – shorter than you anticipated. You don’t know if you wanted it to be longer if you needed more time to sort out the thoughts flying in your head – you feel numb, empty, hollow, all of those stupid words for stupid expressions because nothing can quite describe the dread settling in your stomach. 

Your throat burns, your makeup is ruined, you are shaking like a kitten left under a rain – you listen to some light music, something you could hear in the car of a guy you’d probably be interested in. Classic rock, some melodic sensations, if you squint and cover your mouth, you can almost relax and stop the desire to puke. You felt mostly sober when the Scot was pushing his dick in your mouth, the horror of the situation forcing your mind to clear up a little – but now it’s foggy again, blurry and messy every time you open your eyes just to see the same man on the front seat, smiling every time he catches you looking at him through the mirror. 

He broke your phone, obviously – snatched it from your hands and broke it in two with horrifying ease. He kissed you after this, cold lips on your forehead. You were crying, or so you think – you were crying this whole ordeal, your face feeling wet and burning as he was fucking laughing, trying to get you to talk to him. You wouldn’t, even if your throat weren’t hoarse and hurting from the fucking he gave you. 

“Want to grab somethin’ to eat, bonnie? I know a bloody lovely place, eh?”

You didn’t respond, the thought of taking something from a guy who eligibly kidnapped you made you sick. Besides, it’s not like food will do you any good – your stomach is spinning from a combination of fear and alcohol, and even though you’d love to ruin this pretty car, you don’t want to evocate even more negative feelings from its owner. He hasn’t hurt you too much yet – no bruises, no broken bones or blood, and you don’t want to provoke him further. 

“Don’t cry so much, I didn’t even fucked ye. I’ll get ye off later, aye?” 

You don’t want him to ever touch you again – despite that disgusting, burning feeling on your panties, the way your little cunt is fucking soaked because his voice is gruff, his face is pretty, and he almost touched you in a way that wasn’t making you sick – it all dropped now, thankfully, your mind is reminded of just how horrible he really is. “Just sit yer wee arse here, lassie. Lt and I will take care of ye” You almost fell asleep when he finally stopped in front of…a building. You don’t know what you were expecting – an evil lair, maybe some grimy base where monsters like him are being made. Not a rather normal apartment building, maybe a bit too scary and dark for your liking – you probably wouldn’t want to live here or even be around this place at night, but, ultimately, it doesn’t look like an evil base. 

This only makes your condition worse – you start sobbing again, useless and pathetic begging as the Scot drags you out of the car, supporting your wobbly legs and making sure you won’t fall down to the ground as he gently caresses your body. He is too fucking soft, too gentle – even his grip on your wrists isn’t bruising, he has one hand on your waist, gently pushing you towards the building. 

***

Ghost wasn’t expecting guests today. He just got out of another deployment, a few days from the previous mission, ready to get back any time if it weren’t for the fact they all deserved a little retreat – yet, he was planning to go with alcohol, maybe some lowly jerk-off sessions with Johnny and shitton of cigarettes to pass the day. What he wasn’t expecting is his sergeant spamming the 141 group chat – shitty idea, really, too much liability and security problems, despite all the measures Price took to encrypt everything – with pictures of cute, crying girl being all adorable, scared and fucking defenseless. 

No one in 141 is a good person – it comes with the job, really, if you’re willing to be a good guy with a gun, there will always be a moment when the lines become blurred. Dragging a civilian girl to their damp apartment isn’t a life-or-death decision made in the field, but they all deserve a bit of sweetness after a mission, right? 

They can be good for you. Simon isn’t sure there is anything in his heart that can still be declared as soft and fuzzy feelings, but he is willing to try and find it, even if for a night. They won’t be letting you go, obviously, Lasswell won’t cover their sorry asses in case you’re getting out with a marvelous surviving story, so you all would have a lot of time to get to know each other. 

— Thought you’d bring food, Johnny. 

— I did. Not my fault they gave up sweets as freebies. 

— How is she? 

— Quiet. Our lassie is a smart girl, eh? Didn’t even fight too much. 

— Fuckin’ hell. Thought they stopped making those a while ago. 

— Good thing I found her, aye? 

Ghost stands at the door of their shared apartment, staring at adorable scared you. You’re shaking in his sergeant’s hands, poor thing, too fucking terrified to even run – you have mascara smeared all over your face, drool and cum on your lips, and he drags a finger to your mouth, wiping it all away. 

You instinctively suck on his finger, the natural obedience coming with a very simple “please, don’t hurt me” plea – and he fucking knows you will be so good for them. He is dragging you inside, allowing Soap to push the takeout bag on the small table in the kitchen while Simon is dealing with all of those silly clothes you’re wrapped in. 

You beg him to stop, but, at this point, even you don’t think he will. All ounces of hope were destroyed already. You aren’t sure what you want anymore – maybe you want to just lay down and sleep, hoping that they will stop tormenting you. The ache between your legs only grows stronger when Ghost drags you to the bedroom, his strong, bulky hands holding you so perfectly – so firmly, you can’t even wish to move away. 

The mattress creaks under the combined weight of your bodies. You roll to the side immediately, your brain is foggy from alcohol again – you don’t even register his rough, firm hands as he is slowly dragging the ruined dress from your body, revealing the underwear you spend so much time choosing and buying. You liked the combination – you wanted to wear something nice today, even if no one would have seen it. 

Now you have this horrifying man in a skull balaclava and harsh hands tugging on the straps of your bra. You sob, head spinning and vomit picking in your throat. The man puts a hand between your shoulder blades, just enough pressure to make you grounded – to remind you that there is no way out, even in your mind. 

— Calm down, love. Won’t hurt ya. 

You choke on a laugh – they are literally going to fucking assault you, you were already forced to suck on Soap’s dick, and yet, this man is playing gentleman with you while undressing you at the same time. You cry again, your tears met with a soft hand on your cheek – checking on you. 

God, you want to drown in this affection, no matter how artificial it is. 

— L…let me go, please. I won’t tell anyone. 

— Too late for that, eh? Johnny don’t have any bloody manners. 

Scot screams from the kitchen, making you wince from the sound. 

“Bloody hell, Lt, I ken ye were fine with draggin’ our lassie here a minute ago!“ You sobs intensify, and you never felt more fragile than before – just one loud sound is enough to break you. The British guy drags you into an uncomfortably tight embrace almost immediately – you’d say you’re almost thankful for the moment of affection, but he snaps your bra a second later. 

— Sorry, love. Will buy you a new one. 

His fingertips are rough on your skin, a contrast that sends shivers down your spine. You whine, feeling stranded like this – feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick from the moisture in your panties. You hate yourself for being this touch starved, but the man is as rough as he is mysterious – and by the look of his figure, perfectly sculpted hands, and a healthy amount of tummy that doesn’t make him look any less intimidating, he might be up to your tastes. It's too bad you don’t have a choice anyway. 

— Don’t touch me. 

— Can’t help it. You’re pretty. 

You feel like you are going to have a fucking panic attack. This is too much – you feel sick, you feel mortified, you are getting your hands out of his hold with the power of surprise and dragging them closer to your mouth, trying to contain the involuntary bile collecting in your throat. You gag, finally feeling all the alcohol you took, getting back to bite you in the ass. 

Before you could say or try anything else, before you could even be bent over, trying to calm yourself down before you dirty everything in this fine-looking bedroom, Brit already dragged you to the bathroom, allowing you to look at the tile floor and white ceramics while you were vomiting your guts, cum, and anxiety out of your stomach. 

It took you a few minutes before you could get anything out – and another few while you were just holding the toilet seat, not even caring about how unsanitary it was. You feel like you’re going to die, the throbbing in your head only intensifying as you could almost feel dropping out of conscience. God, you will never drink again – even though it’s a promise that will break you right after you break it. 

— Bloody hell, love. Easy. Easy. 

— F…fuck you. 

— You will, love. Promise. 

The skull mask guy was rubbing your back the whole time, a motion you didn’t expect from a kidnapper, rapist and a fucking arsehole. He gently took your hair out of the way, he slowly rubbed calming gestures in your aching muscles, and you leaned into his touch, your state was finally reaching the breaking point – you were longing for the soft touch of your captor, not even caring that he is just as awful as his friends, rummaging through various bags somewhere in the other room. 

You cry, the depths of the situation finally getting to you – and he drags you into a tight hug after wiping your mouth with a paper towel, throwing it away before you could feel sick from the smell again. 

He talks you through it with his grovely voice and deep accent, and you can’t help but lean in and listen. 

— Calm down. Can’t have you panicking on my cock. 

— D…don’t touch me. Please. 

— You need this, love. We’re not the worst people who could have picked ya up. 

— You’re a bunch of fucking ra…

He stops you immediately – holds your hand, and drags you back to the bedroom almost too rough, dropping you to the bed before you can manage to scramble your legs and writhe away from his touch. You sob again, crying even more – you don’t have makeup now. Thankfully, everything was mostly wiped out by the paper towels and a mix of your tears, but you still feel horrible. Laying on the soft bed in your soaked panties made you feel like a slut, and this is not the feeling you were expecting out of this night. You just fucking wanted to go home and sleep the alcohol out, not…this. 

— We’ll take care of you. Be a good girl for us, and I will make Johnny pay for not getting you off, eh? 

You can hear the Scot again, emerging from the kitchen in an apron – to your surprise. He looks too domestic, too clean, his hair is a bit disheveled after your little attempt at breaking out, and you can see the resemblance between him and a very, very sad and polite dog. If he had a tail, it would be curled between his knees, a look of genuine guilt almost making you believe that he wanted to apologize for being so forceful. 

— Steamin’ Jesus, I tried to be a gentleman. Didn’t want to scare our lassie too much. 

— She’s shivering. Poor girl, was Johnny this scary? 

— It’s yer mask. Wee things always scared of those. 

They both laugh, clearly not taking your tears seriously. You curl into the bed, trying to protect your exposed breasts and midriff as much as possible. You don’t want to be touched, you feel dirty and used already, but their attentive gaze is making your skin burn and crawl from the feelings you never thought you knew before. It’s a horrible situation, but somehow, you are almost flattered because of how affectionate they both look for someone as insignificant as you. 

Maybe, it’s your brain trying to protect itself from further trauma. Maybe, if you’d lie to yourself long enough, you could pretend you want this. 

Ghost looks at you, drinking the drowning panic in your eyes. You’re so pretty, so helpless, he doesn’t even want to think of what could happen to you if Johnny weren’t here to pick you up. You’d be murdered in cold blood, left laying on the side of the street after a group of some perverts would be done with you. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you deserve a proper help and calmness of living with them – and he knows that once he is done with bringing his first orgasm with your body, you will learn to love it too. Maybe not at first, but the seeds would be there. 

He tries to be on his best behavior as he slowly drags his body between your legs, catching your ankles once you tried to kick him. You’re like a kitten, growling and hissing, clawing on his hands like it didn’t turn him on even more – he pins you under his weight easily, enjoying the audience of Soap already palming himself through his pants. Fucking pervert – he already came in your mouth not so long ago, but the lieutenant knows that given a chance, his sergeant will break this girl for another three rounds in a row. They can’t have that, right? 

— Calm, love. Don’t make it harder for yourself. 

— Stop…please, just…god, wait, I…

It’s such empty words, he knows you can’t calm yourself down – you’re a pretty girl, really, you’re cute and adorable, and you don’t deserve his firm hand taking off your lace panties, but he knows that you will love it after a few more times. You’re dripping already, a combination of manhandling and previous foreplay making you adorably weak for them. 

— Will make you nice and wet, yeah? Such a pretty cunt, bound to give it a taste. 

— W..wait, please, don’t, really, j…just let me…

— Quiet, love. You’ll fuckin’ love it. 

Ghost drags his fingers straight into your folds, spreading them as quickly as possible. He would love to give you more time to adjust, but he was hard ever since Johnny made that goddamn call, and patience isn’t his best quality when on leave – he needs you in all ways you can handle. On your back, preferably, he wants to see that pretty face of yours when he will bottom himself in your cunt and make you squeal. Maybe play with your ass for a little – if you’re going to be the team’s favorite girl, they need all of your holes ready to be used. 

You squeak from surprise when he drags his mask on the upper half of his face, revealing his mouth. Clean-shaved chin, a bit of uneven blonde stubble, strong jawline – he smirks because he knows he is quite the opposite of ugly, that even after all the burns and scars, he is still that rugged type of handsome that ladies in pubs just love to touch. He wonders if you’re more of a typical pretty boy type – he wonders if you’d like Gaz as much as you love Simon. And you fucking adore him by the sight of your wet pussy almost dripping on his tongue. 

You beg him to stop when he slides his tongue in, the feeling of his harsh fingers stretching you only making everything hotter, less bearable. You don’t want to like it, but he is handsome and strong, he is whispering sweet compliments into your pussy, sliding sloppy kisses all over your folds, not forgetting to pay attention to your throbbing clit. 

“Such a pretty cunt for us. What was the last time she got so much attention?” 

He kisses you down there sloppily, adding another finger almost immediately to really make you feel that burn. You’re crying from stimulation, it’s been a while since the last time you had anything so heated – you just want him to stop, to proceed, to let you go, and also to never stop kissing your pussy and collecting all the juice that’s been flowing from you. You make the bedsheets under your ass wet, and Ghost just can’t help but stretch you a bit more, enjoying the sound of your confused, almost pained squeals. 

“Stop crying, love. I could have taken your arse instead.”

He can only imagine how adorable you’d look, crying from his cock in your plump rear. He is by no means small, and the thought of tearing your pretty arse just a little, making you cry from being filled so much, makes him even harder. He needs to be patient, can’t break your rear before Captain gets here – but god, isn’t patience the hardest virtue. 

“S’good for me. Sorry, love, can’t wait much longer. Got a bloody lovely cunt f’ me” 

You cry even harder when Ghost finally slides his cock in you – one harsh thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours, is enough to make you sick again. You’re stretched, dripping wet, it wouldn’t hurt if only he had a normal-sized cock, not the fucking monstrosity he is showing in your underprepared pussy. Nothing would prepare you for this – he started moving immediately, with little regard for your comfort. The niceties he was whispering were falling on deaf ears as he slammed inside of you over and over again. 

You feel sick. 

— Fuck. S’ tight for me. 

You’re clenching around his dick, not allowing him to pull back. Such a pretty girl, he doesn’t know what he would do without that feeling – he wants to fucking devour you whole, to have you laid out for him so prettily. He bottoms finally, stretching you beyond any man could – you feel him somewhere deep, near your cervix, hitting your sensitive walls while all you can do is cry for him to stop tormenting you like this. You can only squeal under him, for him, he is hitting all of your special spots at the same time, and you don’t know if you could really handle him like this. 

His hand lands on your folds, playing with your clit – only making you more and more wet with each second, you almost feel like you are passing the breaking point already. He is stronger than you want him to be, and you feel like he is going to fucking break you, every attempt of squirming from under him is met with a fierce grip on your waist, dragging you back where you belong – moaning and crying on his cock. 

The intrusion stopped being painful after a few minutes, you’re open enough to allow his cock to slide in and out easily. He bites your neck, munching on sensitive flesh like he is going to rip a chuck off you, leaving marks as if he were a wild dog. You moan under him, the feeling of his teeth on your skin isn’t exactly horrible – but not too enjoyable either. 

You squirm softly, hoping he would at least cum soon. 

— That’s right. Dumb civvie girls should just relax for the ride. 

— N…not dumb. I’m not dumb. 

— Only a dumb girl like you would get in Johnny’s hands. S’ry, love, but you really are dumb. 

— I’m…

— It’s alright. We like dumb girls. 

He moans in your ear, biting your earlobe, engaging in a sloppy kiss that allows you to taste your pleasure on his lips. You hate every second, you want to loathe every inch of his body, but his hand is moving faster and faster, steady rhythm that makes you see stars every time he plunges his cock inside – and, oh god, you can’t help but feel your pussy throbbing around him, the tight knot in your lower tummy getting warmer and warmer as his movements steadily brings you to an orgasm. 

It hits you too fast to be prepared for – just a few minutes later, you’re panting under him, mouth open agape as he slides his cock even faster, abusing your poor, sensitive cunt. You’re milking him for cum, not even caring that you are not on the pill – you just concentrate on the head of his cock hitting your G-spot in the most perfect of timings and his rough fingertips caressing your clit in a way that makes you go wild. 

You cum with a cry, soft, squeaky sobs escaping your lips as you hiccup and moan, pressing your hips against his in an attempt to become as close as possible. You feel his hot cum filling you up, a slight bulge in your lower tummy becoming even more prominent. 

Ghost kisses you on the forehead as he slowly emerges from you, hissing as your tight walls refuse to let him go. You’re so fucking perfect, all flushed and panting heavily, neck covered in bite marks and outline of his bruises forming on your waist. 

He pats your pussy a few times, making you shiver from the feeling. 

— Such a pretty girl. Lay here, your cunt is goin’ to be a bit more visitors today. 

He smiles, kissing you on the lips again – you whimper, curling on the bed, feeling the hot cum dripping from your exhausted, sore pussy. You feel his hand affectionately patting your head as if you were a cat, and he hums in approval when you instinctively lean towards his hand, getting as much affection as you possibly can. He brings you a pillow and drags your head so it would rest more comfortably – and you already feel extremely tired, your eyes closing. 

You’re almost ready to sleep when you feel the Scot sliding in bed with you, slowly spreading your legs.

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Old Man!John Price | Soap's Girl!You. 

Description: Johnny gets too reckless on a mission this time around and gets booted off the team. Now only you can convince the Captain to revoke his decision.

Warning(s): Noncon, dubcon, naive!reader, corruption kink, groping, coercion, dacryphilia, dark!Captain Price, dark!Soap, size kink, fear kink, fingering, forced kissing, misogyny, infantilization, sir kink, handjob, they're unsavoury men. Minors do not interact.

“Go on, baby” you feel a strong nudge on your shoulder from behind, causing for your smaller form to go tumbling forwards and face first into the ominous door in front of you. “Oh, shit. I–” Johnny whips you towards him to hurriedly get a look at you before examining you and rubbing the tip of your nose where he thinks you got hurt. “I am sorry, baby. But it's okay. I promise it'll be fine. But you have to be strong for me, okay?” The beads glimmering in your eyes sting them just a bit more and your bottom lip wobbles at the mention of the horrendous prospect. “Go on, the Captain is a nice man. Just show him some of that sweet love of yours and he will be good to us” before you can attempt to plead for him to reconsider, you have been pushed into the room and forced to come face to face with none other than the man you dread the most in this world right now.  The door clicks shut behind you. 

John Price's gaze feels nearly scrutinizing as you nibble on your bottom lip while trembling in your frilly little dress, the tips of your fingers folded over the extremely high hem that you try to extend by pulling at it but in vain. Silence pervades the scene for you have no idea how long before the man finally speaks. 

“Well, love, come on over here, then.” Your heart drops as the little bit of hope you were desperately clinging on to extinguishes. Johnny was Johnny and you had signed up for the kind of man he was when you decided to stay with him despite his flaws but from a man of Price's station you expected something else. 

Something better. 

Johnny got too reckless this time around and got booted off the team by the Captain. Since he never tells you work related stuff -like he ever tells you anything serious at all- because ‘those’ ugly things aren't for little girls like you to know, you have no idea what exactly happened but it turned out that though you were too simple minded to know what happened, you weren't too small to be pimped out to your boyfriend's boss like this. 

Since you have tried to get Johnny to reconsider this every time you possibly could ever since he told you you were going to be doing this for him like a good girl supports her man and his colleagues have always terrified you because of how capable they are for any and all kinds of destruction, you hiss in a hiccup and let your wobbly steps carry you to the old man. 

Price is sitting in a big office chair behind a heavy wooden table, mighty and intimidating yet agreeable with his smile that is almost kind. You would have believed it like the impressionable fool you are if it weren't for the clouds of darkness that are threatening to burst out of his eyes, the light orbs looking you up and down everywhere except for your eyes with a chilling hunger. 

It is after your dignity is wholly mortified and you decide you cannot feel any more shame than this does he pat his lap as a silent gesture for you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, little thing” the material of his uniform is harsh under the exposed skin of your ass when you sit down, the sensation causing you to have a moment of realization all over again and a tear threatens to spill down your cheek but you catch it just in time. “It's okay, we are all friends here, angel. No need to cry, it's okay” you are tense and uncomfortable as you try to shrink in on yourself but one of his rough hands wrapping against the curve of your hip to push you into his hard chest doesn't help. The stiff tent in his pants touches you next and you cannot help but flinch as a hushed cry tries to crawl its way out of your throat. 

Unbeknownst to you, it only works up the man even more and he speaks to you in the most comforting of tones. “I get it, you're scared of the big Captain, aren't you, love? Never had much of an interaction, you and I, did we?” You barely understand him as you're too focused on trying to keep your tears at bay like Johnny ordered you to. No crying and no pleading. That was the rule if you wanted your man to keep his job. And you were a good girl and future wife. So you would do whatever it took. 

“I know what we need to do” your hands that helplessly lie clasped in your own lap clench and twitch when he suddenly kneads your skin where he is holding your hip. “Easy now” he warns when your legs defensively try to force you to stand and your body freezes before you even register his words. Price sighs unhappily. “I was told you were okay with this. I don't like my girls unwilling and unappreciative. You can go” your eyes widen in horror as everything Johnny had warned you against plays in your head at full volume and you go into a panic, shaking your head vehemently and trying to reassure him in as much voice as you could muster, desperately trying to convince him that you wanted this. 

Price ‘contemplates’ you for a couple moments and the suspense is enough to send you into a cardiac arrest because of how erratic it makes your heart. But then;

“Yeah? Are you sure?” You timidly nod. “Then what're those tears for?” The side of his mouth quirks up when you quickly wipe them away and shake your head wordlessly. “... No? Not scared…?” He talks to you like one would a child and your cheeks burn even hotter in humiliation. 

“A- A little…” You manage to squeak out as a measure of carefulness because he appears a bit dissatisfied with your response. 

Johnny's words ring in your head. Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what.  

And your response seems to do the trick for he faintly smiles, a bit proudly even. “A little, huh?” You timidly nod again. 

“Y- Yes, sir…” His eyes visibly darken at that. 

“You see” his fingers caress your hip gently. “I've got just the solution for it” you can barely see his face due to the haze of your thick tears burning your eyes. “Want to know what it is?” You have no choice. 

So you nod in agreement. “Y- Yes, sir…” You feel a brief twitch in the lap he has you perched on.

“There's a good girl” praise doesn't make you feel better, for once. “Well, you see, love. It's rather simple, really” his rough hand cups your face briefly to wipe at your tears and a shiver runs down your spine due to the stark difference between his meticulous touch and Johnny's reckless one. That, however, is not to say his is better. There is a lingering quality to it. A sickening coarseness. A dark manliness which contrasts the good natured boyishness of your lover's, however clumsy he may be. “We just need to familiarize ourselves to each other” your bottom lip wobbles involuntarily and his eyes flicker to it. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Want to know how we are going to do that?” 

“... Y- Yes, Captain” you don't notice it but it causes for the tent in his pants to become even more visible.

“Bring that little thing here” you tremble as he takes your smaller hand in his much bigger one and takes it to his beard, the sensory shock of his coarse hairs digging into your pampered fingertips making you gasp with a flinch. Price's chest reverberates in silent mirth. “Just like that, love. Easy does it” you let him guide you as you meekly scratch the thick scruff, your nails nearly disappearing in the dark mass. “There now, all better, isn't it?” You try to return his smile but you can literally feel the awkward shape in which your lips are twisted due to how uncomfortable you are. 

Next he nudges your hand closer to his mustache and the second you do it, one of his heavy hands clamp on the bumps of your chest and you audibly flinch. But before you can even attempt to move away, the hand he has on your hip steels itself into your skin. But his friendly behavior doesn't change. Not on the surface, at least. 

“See? This is why we need to do this” a tear finally outweighs your eyesocket's bearing capacity and pushes its way down your lashes and all the way to your chin. His grip almost makes you cringe away and the way he gently kneads your boob doesn't do anything for you. “So when we are familiarized, you won't be so scared of your Captain and we can have a good time like friends do” and you have no choice but to sit there and scratch his beard and stroke his mustache while he ‘gently’ feels you up.

“Hmm…” He muses after a couple long horrible moments have passed. “What about a little kiss, angel?” Your eyes widen and your body trembles. Oh no. Johnny is the only man you ever want to kiss. This is so wrong. “Come here” you try to stiffen your back and go to plant a firm hand on his chest but your boyfriend's cautionary words ring in your ears again. 

His chance, his career... 

You cannot fuck this up for him. 

No.

Good girls support their men.

“Yes, Cap–” you force yourself to not retch when his lips touch yours, the bristles of his mustache causing you to jerk your head back as your eyes crinkle shut, the back of your hand slapping against your lips to swipe at them the moment he pulls away to get rid of the ticklish sensation. 

Price's huge form vibrates again. “Not used to a real man kissing you, are ya, angel?” You gulp at how intimidatingly deep his voice sounds. 

“N- No, sir…” So he beckons you closer again. So you can familiarize yourself with it. Your eyes lower in shame and disgust as you cup one side of his face, feeling a waterfall erupt from the corner of your eyes as you peck his lips over and over since he keeps ordering you with low, ‘one more, one more, one more…’s

It is not that he tastes bad. In fact, he tastes much better than you expected -if you ever even thought about it in your wildest of moments- any man other than Johnny to taste. Dare you say… better than your lover, even.

But you have only ever had eyes for your boyfriend. 

And this is sickening, terrible, revolting…

But you don't have a choice. You must be good. You must obey. Must support. Johnny is also human. And he made a mistake. That shouldn't cost him his career. It's almost unbelievable how this kind looking man is capable of such cruelty. 

In a matter of minutes, the length of your neck has been felt up in his strong fist, the pink lace strings which held your dress on your shoulders have been slid off, the swells of your chest has been fished out of the neckline of your dress and thoroughly groped, the hem has been pushed all the way up to your waist, your legs have been pushed apart, your underwear rests on your ankles and Price's hand is knuckles deep between your slick coated thighs. 

“C- Captain!” You let out a choked out cry as you tremble, violated and stuffed full of his fingers. “P- Please!” Your back arches as you clutch his knee for support, sparks of pleasure overwhelming your pussy when the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit before swiping against it slowly while two of his fingers squish their way in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Please what, love?” Price is breathless as he grunts in pleasure. 

You sob from the sensitivity and helplessness of your situation. “M- More, please!” You don't want this. But he has you so worked up you cannot think of anything else anymore. It feels too good. You must cum. There is no other way. 

Price hums deeply. “Keep working that pretty little hand and I'll give you all that you need, angel” you obediently nod as you desperately speed up your fist that is wrapped around his hard cock. “I didn't think a thing as small as you could make a mess this big, love. But look at you” his pants are drenched in your juices and sweat. “Leaking yourself stupid for your Captain” you shamelessly moan out loud, albeit against your will, when you feel his middle finger graze against your g-spot. 

“S- Sir!” More hot pearls of precum bubble out of the apex of his swollen tip and trickle down to meet your curled fingers, aiding the movement of your hand.

“Tell me, angel, has he ever made you feel like your Captain is?” You realized it a while ago that Price does not care if Johnny can hear you. Hell, sometimes he speaks so loud -like right now- it feels as if the older man wants him to. 

You shake your head, crazed with need and lust. “N- No, no sir he hasn't!” You tell yourself you're only following the orders you were given. 

Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what. 

“Aw, a girl as pretty as you deserves everything, angel. Why not?” It is the way his cock twitches in your fist can you tell this is getting him off. 

“S- Said– ah!” The tight band of your entrance tries to shut in on itself but his firm fingers roughly fucking in and out of you deny it its desire. 

You're so close. 

“Go on then, angel” you let the base of your palm linger on his ballsack to massage it and he grunts before mumbling out a praise. 

“Said s- sex is the g- girl's way of t- thanking her man for taking c- care of her and loving her, sir!” You repeat Johnny's words that he has told you since day one. “So she l- lets him do whatever he pleases like a good girl!” Price chuckles before clicking his tongue. 

“That little bastard told you that, did he?” You nod as you feel all your muscles pulling taut like they do sometimes when Johnny makes love to you nicely. “Tsk, tsk. That is no way to treat a sweetheart like yourself… Maybe you need someone better, huh? Someone older–”

“CAPTAIN!” Your vision fills with neon blots and a faint ringing dominates your hearing. The speed of your fist goes rather lax but his seed that bursts out soon after and seeps down his length to coat your fingers is a relief. Because the intensity of undeniably the best orgasm you have ever had has relaxed your muscles way too much for you to be coherent anymore. Your body collapses tiredly against his broad battle hardened chest and your gaze fixates on a spot on the floor, your cum covered hand lazily stroking him to milk him empty. 

“You like the idea that much?” Price snickers as he pulls you closer before burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent, his own back relaxing against the leather chair now. The man does nothing to pull his fingers out of you, his thumb still turtling along the width of your clit while his free hand strokes your bare ass. “Hm?”

“H- Huh?” You let out a puzzled sound, fucked too stupid to make sense of anything. 

“My, my, angel. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?”  

You're too exhausted to look up but your heart faintly jumps. 

He is not done with you?

[poweringthroughthis]

behind locked doors | jake sim

nsfw, mdni

pair: sim jaeyun (jake) x male reader

desc: dreading PE class more than death itself, you find yourself in a predicament. will someone come to your rescue? maybe someone who always does. but even so, are you ready to face them when they do?

warnings: handjob, anal s*x

You were never too good at running, so the moment the gun had fired and everyone had sprinted away, you were already out of breath. You could see the finish line a couple meters away, but your lungs burned and your vision blurred from sweat, you felt like your body would give in at any moment.

"Hey, slowpoke!" you heard someone say behind you. Before you could realize, an arm was wrapped around your waist and your feet left the ground. You found yourself on the shoulders of one of your classmates, his free hand holding onto your legs so they wouldn't dangle, but firmly enough that his fingers pressed into your flesh. "J-Jake, what are you doing?!" you yelled, but he just laughed and started running.

"We're gonna make it to the end before anyone else, now hold on!" His voice was cheerful, his touch gentle, and for some reason his hands felt warm on your skin. He ran a bit more, then set you down. You had crossed the finish line and were now safe. You took a few deep breaths, your heart pounding in your ears, and turned to Jake.

"Why did you carry me?" He laughed and gave you a pat on the shoulder. "Well, I saw you were tired, and I didn't want you to get punished for being the last one to reach the finish line." Jake was such a handful sometimes, if he wasn't a close friend, you'd probably reprimand him for it. He was impulsive, carefree and so energetic all the time. But deep down, that is exactly why you admired him too.

"What are you talking about? What kind of punishment?" "The punishment was the coach would lock the loser in the storage room until the end of the period."

Your eyes widened. You could only imagine how boring it would be, being stuck in there with no way to pass the time. Jake laughed again, his voice ringing through the empty field. "Don't worry, it's not like it was the real punishment! It was just a game we played, so we would run faster. Anyway, thanks for helping me win, I wouldn't have made it to the end without your weight!" You felt your face flush.

"Y-you didn't need to thank me. And…I guess I owe you now, right? So I'll do anything you want, just name it." He grinned. "Really? Well, okay, let me think…"

A few minutes later, you found yourself sitting on a bench, your back to the door, while Jake stood in front of you. He leaned forward and placed his hands on your thighs. "Alright, close your eyes and don't move. It's a surprise, so don't spoil it for yourself."

"What are you even gonna do? This is stupid." "It's not stupid! Just trust me." You sighed and closed your eyes. A moment later, you felt something soft against your lips. Your eyes flew open, only to see Jake kissing you. "Wha-"

"Shh," he hushed, his voice low and quiet. He kept his lips on yours, and slowly his hands moved upwards, his thumbs pressing into the insides of your thighs. "Mmm…Jake, I don't think we should-" "Just relax. Trust me."

His voice was a whisper, but there was an unmistakable command to it. His hands were so gentle, so reassuring, that you couldn't help but obey. "Now, open your mouth." Your lips parted, and he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands traveled higher, until they reached the waistband of your shorts.

You gasped, and his tongue brushed against yours. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips. Jake pulled away and chuckled. "See? You're enjoying it." He pressed his fingers against your hardening length, and you whimpered.

"That's right. You're getting hard for me. You're so cute." You tried to disagree, but he cut you off. "It's alright. Don't be embarrassed. Let's take this off, shall we?" Before you could say anything, he slid your shorts down and began stroking you through your underwear. His touch was light and teasing, and you moaned loudly.

"That's a good boy," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're doing so well, just keep making those pretty noises for me." You wanted to say it was wrong for friends to blur lines, but your voice died in your throat. All you could manage was another soft moan. He continued to stroke you, and you couldn't stop yourself from bucking your hips into his touch.

"Jake, please," you pleaded, your voice shaky. "Please what? You want me to stop?" "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop." "Alright, since you're begging so nicely."

His lips crashed into yours, and he pushed you down, your back hitting the bench. He was on top of you now, his body pressed against yours. You could feel his hardness through his shorts, and you moaned into his mouth.

His hands moved lower, and he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your neck, and tugged the garment down. Your cock sprang free, and he wrapped his hand around it.

"Fuck," you gasped, and he began stroking you, his pace quickening. "You're so hard for me," he breathed. "I bet you'd love to get fucked by me, wouldn't you?" You nodded frantically, and he chuckled. "That's what I thought. Turn over." You did as he said, and he positioned himself behind you. He pulled his shorts down, and you felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance.

"Do you want this?" "Yes, please," you begged. He began to push inside you, and you moaned loudly, the sensation of being filled by him sending waves of pleasure through your body. "God, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel amazing."

"You feel amazing," you moaned, your words coming out in a gasp. "I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered. "Is that okay?" There was something so arousing about the way Jake talked. So vulgar and uncensored but caring at the same time. "Yes," you said, nodding. "Good boy," he praised, his voice soft, before slamming his cock inside of you, hard. You screamed, and he quickly clapped his hand over your mouth. "Shh, you have to be quiet," he whispered, his voice low.

"I can't help it," you whimpered. "You're so big." "I know. I'm sorry." He began to move, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. You bit down on his hand, trying to muffle your moans. "Such a good boy, taking my cock so well," he purred, his thrusts getting deeper and harder. "J-Jake," you gasped. "Yes, say my name." "Jake!" "Louder." "Jake! Oh, god, Jake!"

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled, his hips slamming into you with such force that the whole class could hear. "Fuck, you feel so good," he growled. "I'm going to cum." You nodded frantically, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back and slamming back into you. "Jake!" His lips crashed into yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he came, filling you with his warmth.

You lay there for a few moments, catching your breath. Then he pulled out, and you felt a trickle of his seed spilling out of you. "That was amazing," he said, panting. "Yeah, it was," you replied, still a bit dazed. He sat up and pulled his shorts up, before pulling you up and fixing your clothing. "Are you okay? Was it too much?" You shook your head, smiling. "No, it was perfect."

"I'm glad." He placed a quick peck on your cheek. "I'm gonna go get the key, the teacher should be here soon. Stay here and pretend we didn't do anything." "Okay." "By the way, if the others ask what we did in here, just tell them we made out." "What?! That's not happening!" "Oh, come on, they'll believe it." He gave you another quick kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the hallway, leaving you blushing furiously.

A few minutes had passed but you saw Jake still rummaging through his jersey and other clothes for the key. "What's taking you so long?" "I can't find the damn thing." "You're kidding me. We're gonna get caught."

"Relax, it's gotta be here somewhere. I swear, I saw the coach put it in the pocket of his jacket." You sighed. "Maybe we should just confess. At least then we won't get in trouble."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, that's no fun. Besides, I bet the coach is still outside the building, and there's no way we're gonna get out of here if we wait until he comes back. Just sit tight, I'll find it." You groaned, "how did we not notice if someone locked the room from the outside?"

"I dunno, maybe we were just too horny to think straight." "Oh my god, can you stop talking like that? I can't believe we actually did that." "Why not? You enjoyed it, didn't you?" "Well, yes, but still." He smiled and gave you a quick kiss. "See? There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're both adults, we can do whatever we want." "You're really something else, you know that?" "Thanks. Now, let's see, where could it be?"

After a few more minutes of searching, he still hadn't found the key. "Damn it, it's not here. I must've missed it. Maybe it fell out of the pocket when I was taking off the jacket. Shit, we're gonna have to confess after all." You sighed but then smiled faintly. "it's okay. i don't mind being seen with you." He smirked. "Is that so? Well, good, because I was thinking maybe we could continue this after school, in my dorm." You blushed. "You're incorrigible." "Is that a yes?" You rolled your eyes and smiled. "Fine, I'll see you there." "Great. Now let's sit and wait for coach and tell him we got locked in the room."

"But I thought you said he's not here anymore." "Nah, he's still here, probably outside smoking a cigar." Jake joins you on the bench and wraps his hands around your waist from behind, your naked upper bodies touching. "Let's wait until he's back," he says, his voice low and soft. "Okay."

You lean back against him, enjoying the warmth of his body. You sat like that for a while, quietly, not saying anything. "Jake?" "Yeah?" "I'm glad we took this step forward." He smiles and kisses your neck. "Me too." You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy the moment, knowing that things will never be the same between you two.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. "Guess we couldn't escape the punishment after all, huh?" You laugh. "Guess not."