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[darlingdarkly]

the space in between- part xii

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11

after what feels like an eternity, price finally shows up to the attorney’s office. you hear him before you see him, the low rumble of his voice through the door as he talks to kyle about something you can’t quite make out- malaria, it sounds like? when the handle on the door starts to turn, you can feel your pulse beating in your throat, anxiety at an all time high. price at least has the decency to enter the room with an air of caution to him, as if there was an angry bear in the room and not just your fat ass and the lawyer. the door clicks behind him, loud as a gunshot against the deafening silence in the room as you both stare at one another while kate grabs her coat and briefcase.

Keep reading

[darlingdarkly]

writing reader inserts is so funny because it's like. yeah you would NOT say that but now you do and you're gonna enjoy it. it's inevitably pouring a part of you into this fic. it's describing your dissociative daydreams in overly detail to everyone searching specifically for food to feed their dissociative daydreams. it's coming up with a hundred different scenarios on how to get railed by your favorite 2D man and yeah his dick is always big and he wants you so badly. it's playing barbie with Y/N who is like an universal OC at this point. it's going on silly little adventures in my mind and taking you all with me. reader inserts i love you so much.

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death Part 5

Deimos x f!reader noncon! Enemies to Lovers

2.9k words

CW: noncon elements, dubcon elements, angst, mentions of character death, game spoilers

Parts: 1, 4

Routine has a way of cutting our lives into neat little boxes. The same thing in and out quickly blankets over any obscenities or anomalies until you’re numb to what made them absurd in the first place, completely draining any context or substance they may have held. They become unreal to you, just a fact of life. Like morticians or executioners when you do the same, at first glance, abhorrent tasks day in and out it starts to become ordinary, just part of the mundane, as vexing as brushing your teeth or fetching the mail.

The days began to bleed together. The pair of you fell into a regular schedule, one where there was never a moment you were apart and for better or for worse you began to get comfortable, complacent in your unusual relationship. You slipped into the regularity of routine, waking up, sharing breakfast, doing desk work in the mornings and then sharing lunch, odd menial things in the afternoon before sharing dinner and then bed. You didn’t even notice the slip, drifting effortlessly into place next to him, becoming relaxed around him. He became a statue, a steady faucet, always there.

There was even training, every day you and him would start with stretches before a run and then light sparring where more often than not you found yourself face first into the mat but it was exertion and that suited you just fine. It was during one of these training sessions where the inevitable finally happened. He wondered how long it was going to take for you to become comfortable enough to bring it up. He should have known, but he had let himself become comfortable too and maybe that’s why it caught him half by surprise as it did.

You had only been sparring for about a week, moved up from the basics to being confident enough in your abilities for wooden trainers to be added to the mix. He threw one at you and you caught it with ease, examining the crudely carved knife and testing its grip in your palm. It had been too long for your liking since you’d gripped a knife, even a fake one and it felt like slipping back into an old sweater.

You both stood opposite each other on the mat with a trainer in hand and he allowed you to make the first move, jabbing inward towards him with an intended blow to his right side, a move he saw coming and sidestepped, bringing his own knife up for a slash to your neck.

You pulled your head back and away just in time before ducking down and pushing your blade up into his armpit where it ultimately would drive between his ribs and into his lung. He stepped back with the bout over and stood before you impressed. He came at you first the next time, feigning a go for your soft neck but redirecting at the last moment and dipping around behind you when you moved to evade and capturing you in a headlock, he smiled as you swore and tapped him with the handle of your trainer on the back of his arm as a surrender.

He went again, pulling a similar move and found himself impressed as you predicted it and put distance between you, adapting quickly and learning as you went. He found himself wondering just how trained you were, the thoughts spilling into one another as he assessed your skills up close and personally.

The bouts went on, each of you trading blows and working up a sweat until he held up a hand to signal a break. Your shoulders dropped and you stepped back until the backs of your knees hit the bench and you dropped down on it to recover. He stood where he was as he addressed you.

“When are you going to tell me your ability?” You froze like a deer in the headlights. Of all the questions he could have asked he picked the one you couldn’t answer. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, completely blindsided. You knew it was going to happen eventually but you had assumed it would come later, always later.

“I’m not.” You hope you can be cheeky and skate.

“Why?” God he’s persistent. It’s like he had a sixth sense for when you were trying to avoid a subject. Prodding you for discomfort and pushing on the spots that made you wince.

“Because.. I don’t want to.” Your answers not good enough, his head tilt says it all.

“Sugar cane..” he won’t let you keep getting away with half truths and run arounds, you have to give him something and the first thing you come up with is what you feed him, you hope he can’t taste the deceit in it.

“It’s still in development.” Which is true, you have a few ideas but haven’t set down anything concrete yet. You have some plans worked up but they’ll have to go through Mira for approval and probably be reworked for flaws or additions depending on her judgment but there was still a long way to go even before that step. You hope to god he’ll just let it go.

“What rank are you?” You looked up, trying to get a read on him. Why was he asking questions he already had the answers to. Why was he pressing so hard? Digging deep to the heart of the issue. “You know what my rank is. It’s in my file.”

“I have your medical file, not your dossier.” You weren’t sure where he was going with this. But if he didn’t accept this then your back was against the wall and you’d have to tell him the truth. “Well before Rainbow I-“

“Not before. You and I both know nothing before Rainbow matters.” And there it was, the unavoidable question. It was a trap, one you could see but had no choice but to walk into, you could lie but he’d find out one way or another. He’d done it once before.

“Recruit.” You’d whispered it but he heard it clear as a bell and you wondered again if any of the intel on him was correct, he was almost supernatural in his abilities for a 51 year old.

“A recruit!?! Are you telling me they haven’t promoted you? You’re not even a full blown operator yet and they sent you out here for me?” You mentally flinch a little at the jest, you know it wasn’t meant to be hurtful but it stung all the same. Your first instinct is to try and defend yourself and Rainbow for that matter.

“I was close. This mission, had it been successful, was going to push me the last of the way, I was sure of it.” You were going to say more but he cut you off.

“You don’t even know? How long have you been at Rainbow?” And the follow up question drops. The answer automatically rolling to the front of your mind like a steel ball and thudding against the pan of your brain, it hurt.

“Two years.” He’s silent and somehow that’s worse because you can’t even imagine what’s going on in his head.

“Sugar cane, that’s ridiculous. You know that, right? Do you not realize the potential you’ve shown me in the last month alone? Do you not see they are squandering your talent? You shouldn’t be sat out on the sidelines. You’re ready, you’ve been ready.”

The heat of his praise never fails to warm you and you still find you don’t know what to do with it but as rewarding as it is you still find yourself jumping to defend the organization. “That’s not my decision to make.”

“It used to really be something, an organization made up of the world's elites. A force that brought justice to looming evil, a tactile resolution to the previously untouchable. We kept it in check.” You hadn’t expected this, you never thought you’d hear him talk about his time at Rainbow.

It was by no means a secret, every new batch of recruits huddled together after dark in the barracks or around the fire camping out during orienteering training heard the tale of one of Rainbow’s fiercest enemies.

So feared not only because of his ruthless reputation and terrifying ability that was impossible to evade but because he used to be one of us.

“Rainbow used to mean something. We used to mean something.” And his gaze fell from you as he relived some vivid memory as he spoke. “We were a force. Striking fear into the hearts of our enemies, saving hundreds of thousands of lives.”

“What happened?” You stared up at him, training long forgotten in lieu of hearing him lay it all out for you, whether you liked what you heard or not. This is the part of the story no one knew. “They ruined it, tarnished our name and reputation. Dissected Rainbow and ripped out its spine, let it get all soft and mushy. It’s the same reason you’re still a recruit and not out there in it. Now it’s not even a shell of the beast it used to be.”

“A group of us ultimately defected, unwilling to bend the knee. Got labeled as traitors and terrorists, sought out to be destroyed by what he had helped build. The only answer was to cut off the head of the snake.” Your blood ran cold as you realized what he was referring to and as instantly as it chilled it began to heat.

“We were a covert unit of apex killers and he turned it into the fucking escapades. Harry was a fucking louse.

He disgraced my unit and if no one else would step up and hold the gun then so be it.” It was only when he looked back up at you did he realize his mistake.

You weren’t the only one settling into complacency. He hadn’t realized how comfortable he’d gotten, the noose settling around his neck without so much as a flinch. He had been trying so hard to coax you from your defensive shell he’d never realized how vulnerable he was making himself in the process and he had never meant to open up to you quite this much, cut himself open as he had, but it had been so long since he had shared like this and the flow of it took him and made him bleed more than he had intended, but he realized it just a bit too late.

“What the fuck do you know about Harry?” He could feel the heat coming off you in waves. He hadn’t realized you were close with Harry, there was no way he could have really known, but fuck it. It was time you learned the truth.

“Did I strike a nerve, sugar cane?” You glared him down.

“You don’t know a damn thing. Whatever happened to you it wasn’t that. You’re wrong. We’re not soft. And I don’t believe you.” The ‘we’ struck a chord in him, one that stung a bit but he couldn't let it show.

“Of course you don’t, God you’re loyal to a fault you know that?” You want to shove the wooden trainer down his throat, can see yourself doing it in your mind even as you know it’d never play out that way.

You couldn’t sit still any longer and rose up off the bench, undeterred as the image of your leader and mentor filled your mind and the anger that sapped from it you harbored to coat your words until they were gorged with poison. “Killing Harry meant nothing. You think it’ll change Rainbow? Somehow magically restore your perfect fucking unit? You’re living in the past, Deimos. Grow up.”

“He was running Rainbow into the ground. Why do you think it’s deteriorating from the inside out? Ghost Eyes? Red Hammer? You really think Rainbow breaking into factions makes you stronger? You’re wrong. It’s weakening you. Don’t even get me started on Nighthaven. Inviting them in so freely. Didn’t even realize they were there to poach your technology and operators until it was too late. Rainbow is crumbling and Harry was holding the hammer.”

“You’re wrong!” But he’s not. It’s no secret things have been going wrong for a long time now, even Rainbow’s enemies were privy to the internal struggles, poising to strike while it was weak. They hadn’t ever suspected it to come from one of their own.

“There is none so blind as those who refuse to see, sweetheart.” Your temper reached its fever pitch and you could feel the air around you stilling, the calm before the storm, the static it resonated undeniable.

“You’re wrong. And if you think you’ve got your hands around our throat I suggest you think again. You’re underestimating us and it’ll be your downfall.” You stand opposite each other and it’s clear while he’d made the fatal slip it was you who came out the most upheaved by it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as your temper threatens to claim your better judgment. You find you can’t stand to look at him a moment longer, uncertain of what you’ll do if you have to.

You storm out and it only adds fuel to your flames when he doesn’t bother following you, like he’s secure enough in recapturing you had you tried to escape that it didn’t matter. You kept your head down as you passed groups of unfriendly faces, lost in your own mental quarrels you wished one would try something, give you an outlet to lash out against but they all seemed to know better. You made it out of the building and headed east. There was only one thing right now that could ease your ill mood, you were happy to find it unlocked.

The noise greets you like an old friend and they’ve grown accustomed to you enough to anticipate your arrival each time. They welcome you in with the same mix of barks and whimpers and you find the sound wraps around you like a warm hug. You greet them back one by one, stopping and giving each a thorough pat down through the gates. You’d grown to love them all but Clover cemented her place in your heart as your favorite.

You pulled open the door to her pen and stepped inside carefully as she attempted to wrap herself around your legs, beating you up with her tail in the process. Your mind eases and you start to forget a little. You spend the rest of the day there, cleaning up their enclosures before playing with each in turn, tug of war with an old piece of rope you’d found and bringing them out of their pens one at the time for a few rounds of fetch.

It’s odd, this stretch of alone time. After a solid month of being with him constantly this step back was both jarring and full of clarity. It’d been a long time since you’d done a mental inventory and you didn’t care for what you found once you did. You were upset with him but the reasoning behind it made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t Harry’s death, that was only the spark that had ignited the flame. You’d mourned him already, the initial stages of grief long past.

This felt like a different kind of upset, its flavor twinged with disappointment, but why? Why would you expect anything else from him? He was your enemy, you knew that. You hate your enemies, you strive to watch them exhale their last breath, actively plot their demise. But running those things back with him in mind didn’t feel right, they made you a bit queasy. You refused to acknowledge the implications of it, no matter how undeniable they appeared to be. Nothing had changed. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he’d said to you rang of truth while you were only lying to yourself.

You’d just finished feeding them when he stepped in. “Thought I’d find you here.” The pang of emotion that washed over you at the sound of his voice made you uncomfortable but you fought down any kind of reaction it threatened to bring to the surface and didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. But you weren’t expecting the accompanying sting when he didn’t even try to smooth any of it over, choosing instead to change the subject and drive head on to whatever point he came to make.

“I just got some news.” You turn to face him then, the possibilities of what he was going to say next had no end and you were all ears. “I have to leave again, tomorrow morning.”

He continues. “I didn’t want to but after learning the nature of the situation I can’t send anyone in my place and there’s no other alternatives.” Another escape attempt jumps to the forefront of your mind, it’s reactionary but even as the thought forms it dies. You’d have to have some kind of a leg up, a new plan and you have yet to find a new chink in their armor, but maybe while he’s gone you can come up with something for another time.

“It’s gonna be at least a week or so, the trip will take half a day alone but we’ll manage it.” Your ears prick up. Did he just say we? He can tell by the expression on your face that you’ve picked up on the catch.

“Wait, you don’t mean?…”

“Pack your bags, sugar cane. We’re going on a trip.”

[darlingdarkly]

Fixed it.

Original, under the cut.

[darlingdarkly]

If you're not planning dates to chase me through the woods on a full moon, and eat me up when you catch me.... do you even like me?

[darlingdarkly]

Are people with large beds not afraid of a ghost crawling in with them? I would be

[darlingdarkly]

Something I love to read but never really explore satisfactorily in my own work is the idea of deception in monster romance. Being tricked or lured into loving something monstrous, a monster believing it can't be loved as its true self, so it must resort to disguise and trickery. A human realising very slowly, only after they have committed themselves to the romance that something isn't right, that niggling sense that they should flee being constant but also constantly overwritten by their own desire and affection. A monster that is dishonest, manipulative, desperate to be cherished so it will resort to any means necessary. A human that wants to resist the entrapment but on some primal, instinctive level, yearns to be trapped.

[darlingdarkly]

sy ur tags on that military issued spouse post,, im going insane thinking about it omg

insane about what?

+18 only. x gn!reader. a smidgen of ghoap x reader.

cw: some dubcon. possessive and controlling behavior.

about simon 'touch starved and trust issues' riley not letting you see his face for the first six, eight weeks of marriage? he doesn't take off the mask in front of you once. locks the door when he showers. eats separately. just a skull face glaring down at you when he has you on your back. doesn't say much, barely says goodbye when he goes off on his first deployment post-wedding. he's gone for weeks with no word, no updates. then, one night, you wake up to find a sweaty, mountain of a man crawling into your bed, knocking your legs open, face covered in smudged eye black and scars. claps a hand over your mouth when you scream. don't recognize your own husband? you'll recognize something.

about kyle garrick, who was, sure, a little rougher than you expected that first night? he makes up with it with a massage the next day, kneading his skilled hands into all your sore spots. has you gasping while he apologizes, fingers somehow finding their way back to your holes. you quickly find out this man never keeps his hands to himself. out in pubic, it's an obvious problem. a hand slipping from the small of your back to your ass at the store, shoving between your thighs at the movies. he follows you into fitting rooms and lavatories. at home, it's worse. you work remote. it's plush, comfortable - until he starts making space for himself between your knees under your desk. hooking you off screen at the end of video calls for quickies. insatiable. you learn to schedule time off when he comes home from deployment.

about john mactavish? who won't let you call him 'johnny'? it's either 'john' or 'soap', and he doesn't have a preference for either so long as you're screaming something when he's got his head between your thighs. goes down on you for an hour, minimum. wrings orgasms out of you until your legs are useless and his jaw's sore. it works for him, makes it easier to play with you. pesters you for pictures and videos when he's deployed. don't bother with anything vanilla. he doesn't care if your underwear matches or if it's brand new, he needs a pick-me-up. a boost to morale. and don't forget to say his name. when he tells you he's coming home, you prepare as if a storm is making landfall. you learn to wait in the bedroom or else he'll have you against the door. he puts you on your knees, unusual for him, he likes seeing your face. you're two orgasms in when a deep, unfamiliar voice comments you're just as vocal in person as you are in the videos, and tells johnny that it's his turn.

about captain john price, who makes one too many comments about turning you into the perfect house spouse? he encourages you from day one to quit your job. you got the benefits you wanted the moment you married him, so there's no reason to continue working. he doesn't like that you're out of the house for hours at a time when he's home. he doesn't like it when you go out with your friends, saying you need your own space. doesn't like you going anywhere without him, period. plays the perfect husband when your boss suddenly lets you go, and your friends give you the cold shoulder. you don't understand why or where it's coming from. a string of bad luck. but he'll make it all better. he'll bury himself inside you over and over again until you understand you don't need anyone else. just him. maybe his boys, too, when you're good and ready.

[darlingdarkly]

I too enjoy the jerky man

[darlingdarkly]

3.5k of cbf-turned-bully!soap x reader, inspired by this (very old) ask to my fave ever <3 (read on ao3)

tags: dubcon, dirty talk, masturbation, references to bullying, breaking and entering, rough sex, overstimulation

You’re still nearly shaking with frustration as you settle beneath your sheets, fingers twitching against your stomach and your jaw clenched tight.

You are not going to touch yourself. You’re not. There is no way in hell that you’re coming home from seeing Johnny fucking MacTavish for the first time in years and masturbating. It’s not happening.

…Well, you are awfully keyed up.

“Fucking bastard,” you hiss to yourself, frustration only growing as you shimmy down your loose shorts. You tell yourself firmly that this has absolutely nothing to do with the reappearence of your greatest nemesis, and try not to grind your teeth. You hadn’t even spoken to the man - just a glance of him had you hissing and ducking behind a different aisle at the supermarket - and you’re already riled by him. It’d be embarrassing if you weren’t nearly too horny to think.

You take a deep breath and rest your fingers over your slit, closing your eyes and letting your mind wander. You touch yourself slowly, fingers carefully spreading your lips as you let your mind wander. With your free hand you tug open your bedside drawer, tugging out your favorite toy and dragging it down your stomach.

Your movements are measured and familiar as your usual fantasies play across the backs of your eyes. You give yourself several long moments to slicken, coaxing more and more from your body with nimble fingers and quick circles.

In your mind, there’s a large body over yours and something just thick enough to let you feel the sting of a stretch inside of you, your breasts pushing against his chest, soft grunts in your ears.

Your breathing hitches, hips working against your palm as the fantasy starts to become more clear. He’s big, both above you and inside of you - only halfway in and already tugging you near the edge. His hands are on either side of your head, caging you in so all you can see is his tan skin, his rippling muscles.

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, eyelids fluttering. His bright eyes roll back when he pulls away enough for you to see his face. You lift one hand to your breast, the other gripping his head and both of you moan when you tug. The drag of his cock inside of you is perfect, his weight over you, the heat absolutely pouring over him…

His head drops back down when you let go of his hair, and his lips curve up into a smile as he looks down at you.

You nearly screech when you recognize him, throwing both hands away from your body and your eyes flying open to stare at your dark cieling. Your cunt and nipple throb, feeling quite suddenly neglected, but your heart isracing for an entirely different reason.

No. No. It’s one thing to satisfy your own needs after seeing the man, it’s another to… God, you can hardly even think it - to fantasize about the man and fuck yourself to him. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, desire rapidly cooling. Without Johnny himself in front of you - all six feet of him, muscular and masculine as he’s grown up to be - it’s easier to remember just how terrible he was to you all those years in school. There’s no sharp jawline and cute scruff to distract you from the memory of how he’d steal your clothes before you could change in gym class, leaving you with only those embarrassingly tiny athletic shorts for the rest of the day.

You huff as you let your legs fall closed again, the mood well and truly dissipating now. All you’ve got left is regular frustration, instead of the fun kind.

A sharp tap at the window jerks you out of your pouting, and you yank your blankets up to cover what little skin is showing in a panic, the slick dildo resting on your thighs. The room is silent for a moment, absolutely still except for the fan in the corner that’s been blowing for years, until there’s another tap.

You don’t realize what it is until the tap turns into a thunk. Then, you can hardly bite back your yelp. You’re nearly paralyzed with fear as the sound turns into a sort of… jangling almost, clearly coming from the one window in your bedroom.

Back pressed against your headboard, you can do nothing but think of all the things you should be doing as the curtains start blowing more noticeably, wind pouring into the room.

You’re just sucking in a breath to scream when Johnny MacTavish pops out from behind the curtain, combat boots loud against the wood flooring.

“Same old broken lock, huh, bonnie?” He smirks, strolling into your room like he belongs, like he used to. “Be honest now, you were just waiting here for me, weren’t you?”

You’re gaping like a fish, you know it, but you can’t help but stare at him wide-eyed.

The last time John MacTavish was in your bedroom, he was at least a foot shorter and a hell of a lot more welcome. The two of you had been eleven when he’d still been willing to be near you, but as soon as you’d moved on to elementary school - as soon as boys became boys and girls became girls, and kids had crushes instead of cooties - he’d stopped coming around. It was only a few years after that, in high school, that he’d gone from a friend you used to have to the boy who made school miserable.

And there is not one single reason you can think of to justify him sneaking in, the way he used to. Not now, all these years later with so much - said and unsaid - lingering between you.

None of that seems to weigh on him, though. He’s cocky as ever, doesn’t even bother to take off his boots as he saunters towards your bed, giving you a long look that can only be described as salacious as he leans himself against the foot of your bed.

It’s pure instinct to grope blindy at your bedside table, grabbing the first thing your fingertips touch and launching it at his head.

His instincts are sharp enough the he catches the bottle of water before it can do any real damage, but the small distraction gives you enough time to stumble to your feet, blanket held protectively in front of your body - you’re not completely nude, but a tanktop and panties aren’t exactly what you want Johnny seeing you in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You hiss, some old instinct making you want to stay quiet even though there’s no one in the house with you.

The look he gives you is almost begrudgingly scolding, his lips tilted up in the corners as he tuts like he’s just barely holding back a smile. “Now, what was that for? I know your happy to see me, no need to start throwin’ things.”

“Johnny,” you scold, heartbeat slowing as the initial fear fades. “What the hell are you doing in my room? We haven’t spoken in years, you can’t just show back up-”

“Aw, I knew you missed me,” he grins, easily interrupting you and stepping almost within arms reach, water bottle discarded on your dresser. “Figured you didnae want to hear from me, I’d have written if I knew you’d be so crabbit.”

You splutter a bit, spine straightening in offense. “You’re breaking into my house! I have more than a right to be- what’d you say? Crabbit?”

His smile only grows and he steps closer, making you instinctually take a step back. “I don’t mind, lass. ‘S always fun to coax a pretty thing out of an ugly mood.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you splutter, your heart only beating faster as Johnny prowls forward, eyes dragging down your body like he wants to eat you alive. 

“I like your PJs, bonnie,” he rumbles, reaching out a hand to drag his finger down one of the straps of your tank top. “Did you match your panties just for me?”

Yous hiss and smack his hand away, one hand crossing tight over your chest to try and regain some amount of modesty. “How could I have dressed for you when you’re breaking in? This is ridiculous, you need to go, Johnny-”

You hardly even notice as he slowly pushes you backward, his chest pressed against yours until there’s no more room to pull away from him, the wall at your back a cold shock.

“Go?” He tilts his head, eyes big and round and you know the bastard isn’t as innocent or well-meaning as he’s trying to look. “But I just got here, bonnie. We haven’t even fucked yet.”

You rear back at the crass language, face flushing with heat. “What- we’re not going to-” You stumble over your words, pressing further back against the wall when his hands - rough, calloused, so much bigger than they used to be - grab both of your elbows to keep you still. “We’re not having sex,” you finally manage to choke out.

His grin is shark-like, sharp and verging on mean as he ducks his face closer to yours, lowering his voice to match your volume. “Why not? You look hungry, lass, don’t you want a little help? My fingers are bigger than yours, bet I can reach further up in your pretty cunt than you can.”

You gape for a moment, mouth moving as you think about saying any number of things, each of them dying before they cross your lips. This Johnny is so far from the lanky teenager who shoved you as you passed him in the hallway, and even further from the little boy who refused to be your first kiss because of your cooties. You have no idea how to deal with this invasive adult Johnny.

Your hands are small against his broad chest, and you press against him with just a hint of pressure, hoping he’ll take your hint and lean away. He doesn’t, only pushes himself closer and gives you some of his weight to hold up. 

“Johnny, come on,” you try, pushing a little harder and only getting yourself more firmly pinned against the wall. “We can- let’s get lunch tomorrow, okay? We can talk then.”

Johnny doesn’t respond at first, only ducks down and presses his face into your throat. You stiffen at the feeling of his damp breath against your skin, the slight brush of his teeth chasing goosebumps down your spine. Your breath hitches when you feel a distinct shape against your stomach, his hardness pressing into you.

“I can’t leave now, bonnie,” he says against your throat, groaning and grinding himself against you just once. “Ye’ve got me all worked up, I’ll die if you make me go.”

“Johnny…” you whine, wrapping your hands around his biceps and squeezing.

“I’ll make it good for you, don’ worry,” he reassures, hands shifting from the wall to wrap around your waist. “Might be a tad selfish once we get goin’, but you’ll have your fun.”

You can’t do much but squirm as one of his hands slips down beneath your bottoms, large hand cupping you. Your squeak is entirely unintentional when his fingers begin to explore without any reservations, your face hot with embarrassment at how quickly your body reacts.

Johnny doesn’t lift his head far, only enough to mouth at your jaw and leave little sucking bites. His free hand, the one not stroking your clit and drawing out wetness from your core, drifts up enough to palm one of your breasts.

“Johnny,” you breathe, incapable of saying anything but his name.

You can feel his smile against your skin, and you arch further into him when he slides one thick finger inside of you. His fingers are bigger than yours, enough for you to worry about the size of other parts of him.

“You’re so tight for me, lovie. Gonna squeeze me just right, huh?” His fingers crooks inside of you at just the right angle, and your hips jerk forward on instinct as you cry out. “Pretty thing, can’t believe I never had this back in school.”

“What-” You start, cutting yourself off with a gasp that melts into a moan as he pushes another finger inside of you. You’re more than wet enough to take it, but everything seems to be moving at hyperspeed, and you can’t keep up. “Oh, that’s- what’re you talking about?”

He huffs against your jaw, nosing up a little further to press against your cheek as his hot breath washes over you. “You’re so pretty lass, had me hard as iron every day when we were kids. Wasn’t very nice, huh bonnie? Walkin’ around in those cute skirts and - fuck, your pretty blush… drove me fucking insane.”

You yelp at the sudden stretch of three fingers, pushing up onto your toes to try and jerk away, but Johnny just follows you, thumb stroking cruelly over your clit.

“Just wanted to bend you over,” he groans, pressing his hips into your stomach and gripping your breast tight enough that you worry you’ll bruise. “Wanted to put you on your knees, on your back, fuck, woulda done anything for just a peek at this pretty cunt.”

“Jo-hnny,” you hiccup, melting against him as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you, everything else fading as you creep closer to an orgasm you’re not even sure you want. “I don’t-”

“Hush,” he hisses, smacking your tit lightly and ignoring your cry of shock. “Lemme get you off here, then I’ll fuck you, yeah? Gonna split you open on my cock, show you what you coulda had years ago, gonna fuck you dumb.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and cries as they slowly grow in volume. Your hips buck against his hands as you chase an orgasm, unable to do anything more than pant into Johnny’s mouth as he licks into yours, tongue exploring every bit he can reach.

Your orgasm absolutely melts you, leaves you weak and limp pinned between the wall and the man you’d once known so well. Johnny’s breathing almost as hard as you, every part of him pressed fully against you. He’s all heat and solid man, forcing you to ride out every euphoric wave of your orgasm.

You’re a little glassy eyed by the end of it, knees weak and mind even weaker. You’re vaguely aware of your hands lightly pushing at him as he lifts you by the thighs, dropping you carelessly onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Johnny hisses, tearing your clothes from your body like they’re nothing. You whine when he presses kisses to your stomach, those kisses quickly turning to sucking bites that have you arching and running a hand through his mohawk. 

He doesn’t bother to take off his shirt - too busy licking his way up to your tits for that - but the sound of his belt dropping to the floor and his jeans following is loud in the quiet of your bedroom.

When he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking like he’s trying to physically pull more moans from you, you arch off the bed with a near squeal. He’s hunched over you as he settles firmly above your prone form on the bed, knees between your thighs and keeping them spread.

“Slow- slow down,” you gasp, tapping at his shoulder a bit frantically as you feel the thick - so thick - length of him press against your drooling center. “Johnny-!” 

Your cry melts into a long, drawn-out moan as Johnny forces himself inside of you with one mean thrust. Three fingers somehow wasn’t enough prep for you to take him comfortably, his cock leaving you teary eyed and writhing on the bed as he bottoms out in just seconds. You feel like you’ve been impaled, the breath forced from your chest as you dig your nails into his shoulder and try despertley to breathe through the stretch.

“There,” Johnny pants above you, lips pink and swollen from his kisses. “There ye go, bonnie, good fuckin’ girl for me. Coulda - shit, shit - coulda had this years ago, huh?” His head drops low, eyes boring into yours as he pulls back and thrusts back into you sharply, forcing another cry from your lips. “See how good it feels? I can make you feel so good, pretty girl, promise.”

“Johnny, c’mon,” you gasp, scratching down his shoulder blades and pulling him close. Any reservations you had have been fucked out of you in just a few thrusts, and even despite your recent orgasm your clit throbs with need. “C’mon, you can- you can move.”

His smile is sharp above you, his own pupils blown wide and his shirt sticking to his sweat-slick skin. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you harder?”

You whine high in your throat, throwing your head back and hitching your hips higher as he finds a pace that works, his hips slamming against the backs of your thighs when you wrap them around his waist. You’re half off the bed with the position he’s got you in, his arms scooping you up around your back so he can lavish more attention across your tits.

Every breath you take leaves you in a moan or a cry, the pleasure he’s punshing into you almost overwhelming. You feel fevered, desperate in a way you never have before as you claw desperately at Johnny’s scalp, tugging his hair until he moans.

“So tight for me,” he slurs against your chest, drooling as he switches from one nipple to the other. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad, bonnie, could stay in this cunt forever, shit.”

“Johnny,” you gasp, eyes screwed up tight as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to a second peak. “You’re so… fuck, so big, I can’t… can’t breathe.”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you and pushing himself up enough to press kisses to your lips. “‘M fuckin’ the air right out of you, huh? Fuckin’ you so good you can’t breathe?”

“Yeah,” you keen, your body beginning to tense as you begin to taste your orgasm. “Feel so good, Johnny, please, I’m so- I’m so close, c’mon…”

“Yes, yes,” he chants against you, his lips brushing over every bit of your face he can reach, tongue darting out to lick up the few stray tears slipping from your eyes. “Squeeze me tight, c’mon, come for me, lass, you can do it.”

He doesn’t give up his tight hold on you to rub your clit, but you find that you don’t need him to, the combination of his thrusts and everything about the situation bringing you to a powerful enough orgasm that your vision whites out for a moment. Your throat is sore as you shout, and the fabric of Johnny’s shirt is loose around where your fingers have dug in mercilessly.

“Fuck, tight as a vice, fuck, fuck,” Johnny moans, his own face screwed up in pleasure as he loses any rhythm he had before, fucking you like a fleshlight. He leans back and pulls you up with him, holding you chest to chest with him and burying his face into your neck as you hold onto him for dear life. 

He buries his teeth right above your pulse as he comes, working his hips in small, jerky thrusts to milk himself as you tighten up around him. Your breath is synced with his, both of you panting desperately and soaked in sweat.

You’re still reeling as he begins to recover. Before you can even muster enough strength to let your thighs fall away from his hips, he’s falling forward onto the bed and laying both of you out on your sides, his hold on you not loosening at all. He takes half a second to throw his shirt across the room, then presses you so close that your tits are all but flat against his chest.

He’s uncharacteristically silent as the two of you share breaths, each of you slowly floating back into your bodies. The only emotion you can really muster is shock - how is it that Johnny, your best friend turned biggest bully, just fucked you better than any man you’ve been with before? It feels, in some absurd way, unfair.

“We’ll have to talk about this,” you say quietly, once your heartbeat has almost evened out and your breaths are coming evenly. 

Johnny only hums, one big hand moving down to hitch your thigh back around his waist, tilting your body so somehow even more of your skin is pressed against his. “Sure, bonnie,” he murmurs, voice half muffled from where his face is pressed into your hair. “Tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Johnny,” you try, one hand resting on his ribs. “You broke into my house.”

“Hmm,” he hums, taking a deep breath of your scent and letting it out contentedly. “I’ll say sorry in the mornin’. Sleep now, though.” His voice is almost pleading, his grip on you tightening for just a moment, one hand behind your back and the other resting on your ass. You feel like a stuffed animal, but you’re too pleasure-sated to really mind.

“Alright,” you agree, settling into his hold fully and letting your mouth rest against his collarbone as your eyes flutter shut. “Tomorrow.”

[darlingdarkly]

is there truly any relationship more intimate than between a very dangerous person and the one person they trust to stop them?

[darlingdarkly]

Been thinking about Brotherhood of Steel Knight “Ghost” and his squire Johnny when they’re first assigned to each other for a mission

[darlingdarkly]

Yes it would be 'highly unethical' and 'downright morally reprehensible and irresponsible' or whatever, but have you considered that permanently stripping away my free will and keeping me as a hypnotized pet would be pretty hot? 🤨

[darlingdarkly]

This is what Radaway was made for

[darlingdarkly]

Hot DAYUM, I love everything about that last chapter. Equal parts wholesome and steamy.

The "do you like dogs?" interaction was very 'Snatch', if it was a fun little reference, I love this even more as that's one of my favourite movies. And I had a bit of a chuckle imagining Deimos suddenly starting to talk like Brad Pitt's character, Mickey, from it lol.

OMFG anon!!! I can’t believe you got that references!!! I literally just rewatched Snatch like two days ago 😆😆😆 Fucking bonus points to you!!!

Also I’m glad you enjoyed the chapter, I had so much fun writing it!

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death part 4

Deimos x f!reader Noncon Enemies to Lovers

6k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements, unprotected pnv climactic intercourse, outdoor sex, chase kink

Part: 1, 3, 5

You expect to be locked up. Caged, enclosed, tied down and forget about the key, it no longer exists. But when you wake up that next morning from a deep restful sleep, courtesy of your extremely comfortable new mattress, and he carefully undoes your restraints you realize that won’t be the case. He walks away from you, already showered, dressed and ready for the day.

When he turns and realizes you haven’t followed him towards the bathroom for your shower he speaks. “Are you going to get up or lay in bed all day?” He asks like you have a choice. “For what? To take a shower just so I can come back and get re-tied down? Or are you just coaxing me into getting up so you can move me to a proper cell?”

“You’re only a prisoner in your mind. Now come on or our breakfast is gonna get cold.” Yeah fucking right, you think. He turns away once more and you exclaim your retort to his back. “The restraints I sleep in beg to differ!”

He doesn’t turn back in your direction, just calls back at you from over his shoulder. “Those restraints keep you from slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Something I’m sure you’ve fantasized about more than once.” He’s not wrong. “When you can show me you can be trusted, maybe I’ll give you a little more free will.”

“You know the last time I checked, people who are living of their own free will get to come and go as they please. I try to take one little walk in the woods and I wake up tied to a table. Is that all in my mind too?”

“We both know ‘a little walk in the woods’ isn’t all you had in mind and besides, for someone who considers themselves a prisoner you sure do a lot of complaining about your freedoms. Tell me, have they started furnishing the cells back at Rainbow with queen sized beds these days?” He counters.

“No, but at least we believe in taking prisoners instead of just cutting down every adversary we come across with no discretion, that’s more than you can say.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He challenges.

“Yeah, and why is that, Deimos?” You challenge back arms crossed over your chest.

He finally turns back to you. “Because it’s about time Rainbow learned a lesson about meddling in things that are none of its business. Because you came out here to me, sought me out with ill intent and you couldn’t finish the job, none of you could. You were out-maneuvered, unprepared and arrogant and you had no idea what you were dealing with.” He takes a step forward before continuing, bridging the distance between you.

“I left you still breathing for information, to find out what you knew and to try and get a handle on who I’ve let get too close.” There’s a pause as he closes the last of the gap, standing before you and encompassing all of your attention as you stare up at him raptly.

“And I kept you because I like you.” He leans down close. Calm, cool and collected, showing you even unrestrained he harbors no fear for you and you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “And because I can.”

You don’t have a response for that and are ultimately left staring after him as he stands back up straight and tall and walks away once again, knowing he’s won the little mental battle of wills.

When you’re too stunned to move, still processing the information he grows impatient. “The hose is always an option, sugar cane. The choice is yours.” You scowl but get up off the bed and push past him towards the bathroom.

You undress and he’s way more attentive than he was the first time, eyes running over you with a scrutiny that’s not purely for security purposes. He reaches out with a glove as you spin around to head for the shower and it brushes against the exposed skin of your ribs, making you pull away and sneer like a cat being rubbed on its belly by unfamiliar fingers.

“Easy. I just wanna see how you’re mending.”

“Yeah? Well you can look with your eyeballs, not your hands.” You say this but don’t pull away any further. He doesn’t press it and removes his hand, apparently satisfied with the progress of the healing process.

Showered and ready for the day, redressed in the jumpsuit that had been your downfall you follow him towards the mess hall but instead of carrying right on through the huge double doors he heads in the direction of his office, something that puzzles you. When you get there your breakfast is already set up, one for each of you on his desk.

“Working through breakfast? Did you really have that much pile up while you were gone?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“No, you made sure of that, sweetheart. But I didn’t think your breakfast would go down so well while being glared down by a few hundred sets of angry eyes. You're not exactly popular at the moment.”

Your mouth opened for a retort but you thought better of it and just nodded in understanding before sitting down across from him. You both dig in unceremoniously and you watch from across the desk while he checks his emails while he eats, stealing little glances up at him between bites.

You hadn’t really thought much of it the first time, you’d been more occupied on your escape at that point to care about much else. But the desk setting is a bit more intimate than you’d been the first time around, closer than you’d originally been to him and with nothing else to distract you it was impossible not to stare.

He must notice you noticing him. “Something wrong?”

He asks after pulling the mask away from his face just enough to get the food to his mouth but not enough for you to catch a glimpse of him underneath.

“Why do you do that?” He swallows and then answers your question with another question. “Do what?”

You motion to him with your fork. “Eat like that? Why not take the mask off?” You ask the question innocently but there’s depths to your inquisitions, an unmistakable curiosity to know just what lies behind the hard shell.

“Don’t want to.” He leaves it at that but you pursue at your own peril.

“But why?” He cocks his head to the side. Like examining a particularly interesting bug that’s crawled over his foot, you have his full attention now.

“Why do you wanna know, sugar cane? Are you curious about what I look like?” And you can feel his eyes boring into you, he’s stopped looking over at his computer and he’s stopped eating and now so have you as you feel like somehow the tables have turned without you even really noticing and your face is heating.

“I- I don’t know. No.. it’s just.. weird is all.” And that’s all you can muster up in response. Too uncomfortable with the insinuations of the reasons behind your question and he knows but lets you drop it. You both finish your breakfast and it humors him to see you’ve stopped sneaking little looks at him, content just to eat almost with your head down, lost in thought and a bit embarrassed at being seen through so easily.

You go to gather up the trash and trays when he stops you. “Leave it, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

He gets up and you follow after him. He was right for having you eat in his office, every single person you pass in the halls as you make your way to wherever he’s taking you looks at you with loathing. It’s hard to believe short and stocky could have any fans with how much of an asshole he was to you but he must have some kind of winning charm amongst the troops because they all look ready to jump you if not for your all mighty keeper.

You stick close to him and even after you pass through the big double doors exiting the building and pushing out into the open air it still reeks of hate. But he seems not to notice, you’re sure he does notice but he doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. You’re his and they’ll do well to remember that, no matter what attorcites you commit.

“Do you like dogs?” He asks and you are blindsided by the question and all its simplicity, so much so you ask him to repeat himself. “Dogs?”

“Yeah, dogs.” You’re still confused but you answer it, it’s an easy enough question. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve been around dogs all my life. My daddy raised hunting dogs, bred ‘em, raised ‘em. Trained ‘em up from young pups, made them into disciplined hunting machines. Blue ticks mostly, but some hounds and setters as well. They’re called man’s best friend for a reason. A well trained dog can sometimes make a better companion than some men. Fiercely driven, highly motivated, loyal to a fault.”

He’s taking you over to the east side of the compound, you’d never been out this way but you’re less concerned with your surroundings than him opening up to you for once. You wonder why he is.

“He instilled his love for canines into me. So much so I took a lot of their characteristics into consideration to help develop my ability. I studied them closely, used their natural born instincts to help advance my own skills. They give to me just as much as I give to them.”

He speaks like he owns them, but you’ve never heard so much as a bark. You can’t imagine being here for all this time and having yet to see or even hear one. It’s when he stops in front of a huge building and opens up the heavy metal doors that you find out why. The noise leaps out at you as soon as the door is cracked.

It’s more than barks, it’s whines and whimpers and even a few bays but they’re not hurt or upset, in fact quite the opposite. You step past him into the building, unlike outside it’s cool and comfortable and he closes the doors behind you before continuing on through the facility.

There are pins set up down either side of the walkway and each pin is a ten by ten foot fenced-in square that houses a single dog. Each pin has a wooden dog house standing in the far corner but none of them are in use, instead each dog is pressed up against the front of the chain link cage as close as they can get, their tails a flurry of wags.

He stops at each cage, stooping down and talking to each in turn while they lap at his gloves through the links in the chain and the others further down the line wait in almost indignant anticipation.

There must be a dozen in all, dogs of a few different breeds and in a whole array of different coats waiting, albeit a bit impatiently for master to come around, it’s clear they’d missed him.

“They’re good dogs. Impossible to keep them quiet though, so I had the place sound proofed. It’s not ideal to keep them here now that we’ve been discovered but they’re like my children and I can’t part with them. It’d end me if anything happened to them.”

You drop down on a knee in front of a cage and the dog inside, what appears to be a blue tick coon hound with a white and brindle coat eases up to the front of the cage, all nose as it sniffs out your scent and must approve of what it smells as it cautiously but hopefully pushes against the cage as you reach out to stroke its fur.

“That’s Clover. Sweet girl, very driven that one but somewhat lacking in discipline and attention span.” She pushes against the cage broadside, rubbing her whole body against it as you give her pettings. “Well hi, hi, hi Clover girl! What a sweet baby!” She rolls over against the chain, dropping onto her back and exposing her belly, which you try your best to reach through the chain with your fingers.

“She likes you.” You smile as your fingers brush over her soft undercoat. “The feelings mutual.” He can’t help but feel that ache gnawing at his heart watching you play with the dogs, he’d expected a positive response but he didn’t expect it to affect him so much seeing you play with them. He tries to recompose himself and continue on.

“Dogs can be a useful asset or they can be a detriment, it’s all about how you work with them. They’re wild in nature, they need release and freedom, a chance to stretch their legs and quell the urges of their instincts. People can be the same way.”

And you don’t like the look he’s giving you, the way his gaze lingers on you from your peripheral. “Where are you going with this, Deimos?” You ask but don’t stop your loving administrations. “I want you to help me with my ability.”

You stop petting Clover and pull your hand away from the fence, prompting her to roll back over and cock her head. “And why would I do that?”

“As an opportunity to stretch your legs. Run wild, not feel so much like a prisoner.” It takes you less than two seconds to shoot him down. “No.”

“Are you sure? Think about it.” He prods. “I don’t need to. No.”

“Come outside with me. It’s too loud in here for a conversation.” You don’t necessarily want to continue this talk, you certainly don’t want to help him train in any way shape or form. He’s a terrorist, the literal direct enemy. But you can’t exactly refuse so you stand and follow him out of the kennel and into the afternoon light. He closes the door behind you and turns to you, clearly avid about making this happen somehow.

“Look, I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is run for the hills, if you can escape me then you’ve earned your freedom, I won’t pursue you any longer.” And he leaves it hanging out in the open just like that.

“And get shocked again? No, not with this thing on my neck. I’ll pass.” He slips a hand into the pocket of his tac pants and pulls out a slim remote, with the singular press of a button the collar of your jumpsuit beeps. It’s hard to believe it’s really that simple. “Just like that?”

“Just like that, sweetheart.” You’re still not exactly comfortable with his little nicknames for you and you’re still wary of the whole thing.

“You want me to run away? Like to try to get away again?” He nods.

“I don’t think I really need to remind you where that got me last time, do I?”

“That was different.” Your brows furrow. “How?”

“You’re supervised this time.”

“Oh really? And what makes you think I’ll believe anything you say? I could get away and you’d probably still catch up to me and bring me back anyway. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He leans back against the outer wall of the building, another one of the many moments he’s glad for the mask, because there’s a smug smirk resting on his lips as he knows he’s got you, he knows all you need now is a little push to your ego.

“Just to be clear you won’t escape, trust me on that but you can sure as hell try. Besides, have I ever gone back on my word before? I promised if you took that punishment like a good girl I’d find opportunities for you to stretch your legs. This is it, now do you want it or not?”

You consider your options for a moment, there aren’t many and you really don’t want to go back inside and sit on your ass for the rest of the day. “Just run?”

His smirk widens and you can hear it in his voice this time around. “Just run, sugar cane. I’ll give you a thirty second head start. You’ll need it.”

You take one last look over your shoulder towards the wood line before turning back to him. “When do we start?”

His answer is the count. “1.. 2.. 3..”

You can hardly believe what you’re doing as you do it but you take off for the woods, nary a look back over your shoulder once you do, you don’t really know where you’re going, the town was north and this is east but if you can just get away apparently it won’t really matter. You’re hesitant, you heard the beep in the collar of your jumpsuit but your nervous system still remembers the shock it suffered not all too long ago and isn't exactly eager for a second dose.

You drop off the other side of a big hill, zigzagging through brush and around the base of huge pines, your feet slipping through the pine duff at a hurried speed as the breeze pushes through your hair. It does feel good, you have to admit. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt freedom quite like this, the escape felt different somehow. Scared, rushed. Now you just feel a bit exalted.

You hear it and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prick up to points. The whooshing sound of displaced air, this time far easier to spot in the daytime than in the dead of night. His deathMARK. You want to bolt but your feet hold you back, you can only imagine you’re nearing that line. It’s then that he crests the hill behind you and instead of evading him you skid to a stop and so does he. You both stand opposite of each other, catching your breath.

“You’re not trying.” You can’t stand how he just seems to see everything so plainly. “Yes I am.” You lie.

“No. You’re not. Why?” It’s really no use, lying to him, he just sees right through it. “I wasn’t meaning not to. It’s just.. the line.” He’s impressed that after only encountering it once you could possibly know for certain where the line was buried. “I told you your collar is off. You had my word.”

You don’t drop his gaze, your eyes burning into the black panes of his mask, he sighs. “Come here.” He walks up to the line buried in the ground and steps past it before turning around and extending his hand to you. “It’s off, you have my word.” He says it again and the conviction in his voice is hard to not believe.

You walk up to the edge, the point of no return and after a moment's hesitation, you cross it. Your body prepares for the debilitating shock but it never comes and you look up at him, a meek expression on your face, one he’d never seen. “You can trust me.” He doesn’t justify it with an explanation or embellish it, just states it and leaves it at that.

“Now go again, and try to give me a run for my money this time.” You smile, it’s transient, there and then gone. You can’t help it and you hoped he hadn’t caught it, but he did and it’s all he thinks about for the whole thirty seconds of your head start.

Free of all inhibitions you dash through the woods, taking off in a straight line as quickly as you can. It takes longer before you hear the whoosh of the drone this time around. You push yourself faster, arms pumping as you try to out run it. You jump over a fallen log and skirt a huge rock before you come upon fairly flat ground and chance a look over your shoulder. He’s there, trailing you about forty feet back and you feel a dagger of panic shoot through your heart.

You take off again, head down, eyes narrowed as you try to out run him but you can hear his footfalls against the forest floor and he’s gaining. You redirect, shifting directions quickly in an attempt to outmaneuver him.

You bolt around an ancient oak and weave your way between a cluster of young pines but just when you think you’ve got him you feel his arms encircle your waist as he brings you to the ground like a lion pouncing on a gazelle. You instinctively bring your arms up beneath you to cushion the fall as he lands on top of you, his body covering your legs.

You both lie there panting, he can feel your heartbeat through the palms of his gloves at the small of your back and this whole thing might’ve been a mistake because he can feel himself growing half hard just chasing you down.

“Fuck me, how are you so fast?” He just laughs, a hearty genuine sound that rumbles through you and makes a heat flare in your cheeks that’s got nothing to do with running. “Secrets, sugar cane. Gonna try again?”

“You bet your ass I’m trying again.” His response is to smack yours, savoring the little squeal of protest it produces from you as you scramble to get out from underneath him. He pushes up off of you, sitting back with his arms behind him as he looks up at you rise up from the dirt.

You turn and run and he watches after you as he begins the count anew. You have a plan this time, it’s clear there’s no outrunning him, he’s too quick but maybe you can hide. You keep count in your head, if he lets the drone loose before you found your spot then there was no point in hiding at all he’d just catch you again. About twenty seconds into the count in your head—and you hoped to god he kept his count by the Mississippi rule, you found what you were looking for.

A massive oak tree uprooted many, many, years ago, and taking a pit mound with it, had left a divot in the earth and some animal, a lone fox perhaps, had dug it out for a den. There was no time for debate, you expected to hear the whir of the drone at any moment so quickly you crawled into the dugout space and pressed yourself against the exposed roots of the tree.

If the drone had thermal capabilities the spot was useless but if not it’d more than likely fly right by without spotting you. The latter turned out to be true as moments later you heard it whiz by, its flight undisturbed as it scanned the forest further out, it wasn’t much later you began to hear him, following close behind.

This was your opportunity. You waited for him to pass and when you couldn’t hear him any longer you climbed out of the earth and headed north. You made great time, full on sprinting as you tore through the forest. There was no use in trying to sneak, he’d realize soon enough that something was up and change directions.

But soon you heard the distant whir of the blades again, faint but nearing. You had a decision to make, hide again or try and out run it. The forest before you was bare, the brush light and the trees still standing to your dismay. You thought about turning back for the compound, it’d be the last place he’d expect you to head for but before you could you heard the drone overhead. It had found you and without much choice you took off north once again.

You knew it was your last chance for freedom so you barreled forth on legs already tired and worn. You had just made it into a small clearing when he pounced on you, totally sideswiping your body and you tumbled into the circle of pine straw and fallen oak shed rolling over top of each other until you came to a stop straddling him.

You lay there, a mass of panting limbs and it’s not until he’s relatively caught his breath that he realizes you're above him. He’s wary, it’s the unfamiliar cat feeling all over again, except this time the feline has climbed into his lap and he’s not sure whether you’ll simply claw his eyes out or sit and make biscuits. He gets his answer when your hips roll down over him, just an innocent shift of position as you try to readjust that turns into an inadvertent grind against the firm plane of his abdomen. You let out a groan you can’t contain in sinful bliss at the movement and it makes his lips press thin behind his mask, a groan of his own just barely stifled in his throat.

The sensation is exquisite, having been left so abruptly wanting after your recapture and the subsequent consequences you can’t help yourself. But you stop when your brain catches up to your nerve endings and you realize what you’re doing. You go to rise up off of him, embarrassed and a bit appalled at yourself when his hands snap to your hips and you both freeze.

You’re at a standstill, unsure what comes next and he makes the first move, pulling you back by your hips until you’ve moved off of his stomach and yanked you down over his hips, the prominent bulge in his tac pants unmistakable as you slide over it, both of your breaths hitching at the delicious friction.

What comes next is an exchange, a silent pivotal moment communicated solely through subtle touches fueled by mutual desire. It’s hesitant but quick, meaningful but rushed and what it comes to is you rising up off of him to pry at your clothes. It takes him no time to free himself from his confines and when he looks up and you’re still struggling with the god forsaken jumpsuit he motions you back to him. “Let me help.”

You stoop down but as he pulls a wicked looking blade from its sheath on his belt you instinctively pull away only for him to hold you fast. “Stay still and trust.”

He waits as you calm and still for him before he expertly slices a slit in the crotch of your suit. You give him an exasperated look and it makes him chuckle. “It was taking too long, I’ll have them make you a new one.” With the deed done there’s no use in arguing with him so instead you mount him again, grinding against him once more. Your fingers find purchase against him as fists, one balling up in the fabric of his cape, the other looping around the strap of his vest as the skin to skin contact has you keening against him.

He’s had enough teasing and rifles the length of him through the slick lips of your sex, collecting your wetness on the tip and lining himself up before you can change your mind. You have no such second guesses as you drop down onto his length in fact there isn’t much thought going on at all, just primal need. You keep your grip on him as you begin to fuck yourself.

He lets you use him, it’s the first contact of any kind you’ve initiated and he’ll let it run its course, reaping the benefits. His hands never leave your hips as his head drops back, trading the view of where you’re joined for one concentrated on your face and all your varying expressions. Watching your mouth part slightly as you take what was so cruelly denied. You pick up speed, eyes squeezing shut as your vision blurs around the edges, your head tipping back skyward as you ride him for all he’s worth.

His hands explore you, reaching up to cup a supple breast and he wishes to god he’d either had the patience to let you strip or had just cut the whole damn thing off you because you’re still wearing too many god damn clothes for his liking. He wants nothing more than to plant his boots in the dirt and lift you up by the hips, drive into you from below until your eyes roll back but he knows you need this. If you’re to let go of your hesitancy it’s best to be done on your terms. That doesn't mean once you’ve had your fill it’d be over, but he’s a patient man.

The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees is joined in harmony by your soft pleasured sighs and he’s never heard a more beautiful song. Your eyes open and you know what you’re doing is wrong. You glance down, the mere sight of him beneath you makes the alarm bells ring in your head but it also makes you that much wetter, knowing it’s him you’re keening for. It’s wrong but that doesn’t ease the ecstasy of it from coursing through your veins, collecting in a pit of pleasure that pools deep in your belly.

The last of your resolve makes your hips momentarily falter. “Uh uh. Don’t you dare stop.” You go to turn your head from him when one gloved hand releases the grip on your hip to lift up and grab your chin so you’re unable. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your cheeks heat but you obey, your eyes flitting to the dark lenses of his mask. “‘Atta girl. That’s it, just like that.” As the honeyed poison he speaks begins to ferment you, the simple instinct driven part of your brain takes over, melting at the praise of a proven superior.

You moan at his words and he feels their effects as you tighten around him. “Does it feel good, sugar cane? Hmm?” You’re beyond words, knowing if you tried to speak all the would come out would be unintelligible babbles so you just nod your head frantically, it’s the best you can do.

He keeps a grip on your chin, keeping you trained on him as his other hand palms the swell of your hip, guiding you back into a steady rhythm, one that has you squeezing down around him and a low moan bubbling up in your chest and it’s clear you’re not going to last very long. Your fists tighten into white knuckled grips as your hips cant against his, speeding up as your climax draws near. He can feel you getting closer, his own hips bucking up to greet yours as you slam down onto him with each thrust.

“Come on sugar cane. Let me feel you come for me. Take what you need.” Your pleasure reaches a head, your walls spasming around him as you cry out your pleasure to the canopies above. Your face at this moment is a portrait of desire and he burns the image of it into his mind's eye, committing it to memory as you ride it out above him.

Just as you stop shaking, not even giving you time to recover he pulls out and deftly flips you, pushing you down on your stomach and pushing your knees up beneath you. With your ass raised up high and the length of your right forearm the only thing keeping your cheek from pressing into the dirt he resheaths himself inside you. You howl at the intensity of it, barely sliding off from the hill of your orgasm before he begins the hurried ascent to the next one.

“Deimos!” He growls above you, the sound of his name on your lips only spurring him on. He pulls your hips back into his, relishing his gain of control and chasing the pull of his own release. Your hands clench and unclench against the earth, scratching through the duff and leaves until the rich topsoil cakes under your nails. It’s the last thing on your mind as he fucks you senseless in the midst of the forest.

He knows he’s close, can feel his balls beginning to tighten as they slap against your clit with each thrust. He can tell you’re faring about as well as you push back into him, mewls reaching a heightened pitch as you barrel towards your second release and your lips begin to loosen as you careen towards the edge.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!” You begging him for release is all it takes, his last few thrusts quick and sloppy as he feels you clench around him for a second time as he empties himself inside of you. His hips jut up against yours, pushing in as far as he can go and stilling against you there. Both of you breathing in heavy tandem.

After several moments he pulls out of you unceremoniously and puts himself away before standing. You look up to see him, hand outstretched to help you up off the ground. You take it, and now that the heated pleasure has subsided the wake of regret rises to take its place and you find it hard to look him in the face. He must have trouble finding the right words to say, keenly aware that you’re a bit fragile at the moment and worried that the wrong words could have destructive results so the walk back towards base is a quiet one.

He leads you back to the compound and shuttles you into the kennel while he goes and finds you a change of clothes. Before he leaves he finds it in him to speak. “While I’m gone will you do me a favor?” It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting him to say but it felt like a better option than discussing things between you. “Sure, what is it?”

“Can you feed them for me? There’s a bin at the back with their food and a scoop, the bowls are on a little table next to it. Two scoops for each.” You look towards the back and spot the bin before turning back to him.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods and leaves and you make your way through the aisle and toward the back of the building. Everything is as he said and after separating the bowls out and dishing two scoops of food into each you start at the back and work towards the front. The dogs are well trained and back away from the door while you enter. Sitting patiently as their tails give away their true excitement, thumping against the green AstroTurf floor in an unmeasured staccato.

You set the bowls down and step away before each dog rises and goes to eat. Careful to latch each door shut behind you, you make quick work of it and soon enough you’re setting the last bowl down in Clover’s pin. Unlike the other dogs she noses around your legs while you place her bowl on the floor and goes right to eating as soon as it’s lowered enough for her snout to reach. You can’t help but rub her sides while she digs in and you don’t even notice his return until he clears his throat outside her door.

“All done.” You say as you step through and latch it tight behind you. He hands you your clothes, another old set of fatigues instead of a new jumpsuit and points you in the direction of the bathroom so you can change. You can’t shake the feeling there’s been some kind of shift between you and this is only proven further as you head for the bathroom and he doesn’t follow after you. You shut the door and turn on the tap, splashing water up on your face and staring up at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t know what this means, afraid to think about what kind of line you’ve crossed without even really knowing it but something is different.

When you’d washed up and changed you found him again and you both left the kennel, completely different people than when you’d entered.