#...i look forward to a day when my will out strips my fear and i can finally do the right thing
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medicinemane · 7 months ago
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#the answer in life more and more obviously becomes to shut things off more and more#i need to present only my best and most useful side and keep everything else under wraps#this is the truth and it's something i really need to commit to#and it starts with not posting dumb shit on here that says too much#even this frankly says too much#...i look forward to a day when my will out strips my fear and i can finally do the right thing#and... and i think sharing last time was a mistake#i think i need to queue a post to explain I'm gone so people can know#but in the moment i need to say nothing so people won't worry#not today; probably not this month; maybe not this year#at some point though i need to be gone; and people will realize how much happier they are#how much I've been dragging everyone down with my gloom#nah... in the past I've tended to share when i was actually serious about being close to going through with it#but that's clearly a mistake; being like that on my trip only made people upset#... and maybe i could have found the nerve to go through with it if I'd said nothing#so i think that would be another better policy change too#mask needs to stay on at all times now and forever#i need to improve my situation enough to maximize income to help friends#i need to take out a life insurance policy once I'm making a decent amount#and then two years later i need to step out for good#and i need to show nothing from now on#this post is even too much; but I'm weak#in a way this is goodbye; hopefully soon you won't be dealing with me; only my best face#mm tag so i can find things later
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honeylations · 10 months ago
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CHO MIYEON x FEM!READER
Prompt: Miyeon can’t sleep so she thought riding your abs was the best option to help her.
Warnings/Notes: smut kekeke, ab riding, 6th member reader, bit of photography at the end
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Miyeon tossed and turned with each huff but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t sleep. She didn’t understand.
She was moping earlier that day that she wanted lay down and rest but how come her body wasn’t letting her anymore? She tried counting sheep, drinking warm milk, going on her phone, but it still didn’t tire her out.
Then she remembered the other nights she couldn’t sleep and what she did to help that.
Her face went red.
She looked at the time on her phone that read 3:40am.
She had to be up at 6am for her next schedule and she knew if she didn’t catch a wink of sleep, she’d be cranky the entire day.
So she saw this plan as her only choice.
Within the next minute, she left the warmth of her bed and tip toed to your room, making sure she locked the door behind her.
She smiled at your sleeping self. Your star night light was on which was gifted to you by Miyeon on your birthday because you admitted on your first date that you hated sleeping in the dark.
A childhood fear you couldn’t grow out of, unfortunately.
Shaking her thoughts away, your girlfriend carefully crawled on the bed and pulled down your blanket, revealing your semi naked body.
Actually you only had a bra on with plaid pyjama pants and Miyeon knew you didn’t like wearing shirts because you claimed it was ‘too annoying’.
So accessing your abs wasn’t gonna be difficult.
You felt a few taps on your collarbone, waking you up instantly.
“Huh-what? Baby is that you?” You said in your tired husky voice that sent chills down Miyeon’s body.
“Yeah it’s me. Sorry to wake you up, Bub”
You glanced at your alarm clock and groaned. “Babe it’s almost 4am, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t sleep and there’s only one way that can help me” she pouted and you saw her hands crawl up from your thighs.
“Miyeon…”
“Shhh you don’t even have to do anything. Just let me ride you please baby. It’ll help so much” she whined, already palming your hard muscles and caressing them.
You released a shaky breath and gulped. “Ok…ok fine. Just don’t complain about being sore tomorrow”
“When have I ever complained?” She smirked and stripped off her panties.
“All the time actually”
You heard Miyeon scoff. “Not my fault. Now shut up and let me use you”
Your hand immediately grabbed onto her hips as she lowered her slick covered cunt onto your abs. Just the touch alone made her release a small gasp, holding onto your shoulders as she watched herself slowly move forward and back.
You could see how wet and shiny your abs became from her juices, lips parting in awe before inching them closer to your girlfriend’s face.
“Baby, I want a kiss”
Miyeon hummed and crashed her mouth into you, almost knocking your soul out. Your tongue slid its way through her soft lips and each lick encouraged your girlfriend to slide her hips faster.
Each bump of your muscle brushed deliciously against her clit, Miyeon’s breathing going heavy. She was whimpering into your mouth about wanting to cum so bad.
You squeezed her hips and smirked into her wet lips, chuckling at how sloppy her movements were getting.
“Don’t slow down, Princess. Wanna cum right?”
“P-Please baby. Help me. I’ve been good..”
“Hmm, I guess you have” you mumbled, moving your mouth to her pulse point and sucking gently, Miyeon’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy.
“Come on, my love. Keep those hips moving, I’ll help you okay?” You said after placing a final kiss to the purple mark you left on her skin.
Miyeon mumbled a thank you as you sat up a little more, flexing your abdominal muscles more and forcing your girlfriend to ride you faster.
She let out cute squeals and quickly pushed her (your) oversized shirt up to reveal her plump tits.
“Suck them please, baby. Gonna cum soon”
Accepting your princess’ request, your mouth instantly latched onto her left, sucking harshly and biting onto the soft flesh before moving to the other side. Your arms were wrapped all the way around your girlfriend’s small body, letting her reach her orgasm.
You held her tighter when she arched her back, her hips starting to slow down from her high.
“Oh fuck oh fuck yes…your abs so good baby” she whined, pushing your head into her chest.
Once Miyeon’s vision cleared, she moved backwards and saw the mess she caused on your stomach. You were about to ask her to clean it off but she quickly snatched your phone from the bedside table and placed her other hand on your cum covered abs.
“Uh baby?” You questioned.
“I just realised I haven’t shown off my new acrylics yet. This is the perfect time, babe” she winked at you and snapped a flash pic of her nails being flexed onto your stomach that was visibly wet with white liquids.
“You’re not posting that in public are you?”
Miyeon shook her head and sent the photo to the G-Idle groupchat. “Just the girls”
After placing your phone away, your girlfriend leaned down and licked a stripe up your stomach. “Now let me clean you”
“Babe, we’re not gonna sleep at this point”
“Worth it though. Now shhh”
[G-IDLE GIRLIES🍒]
[4:00AM] Miyeon: *sent an image*
[4:00AM] Miyeon: I know u are all asleep but check out my new nails😍
[4:36AM] Minnie: EW WHAT THE FUCK
[4:37AM] Shuhua: :/
[4:37AM] Soyeon: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKES
[4:38AM] Yuqi: Killing you both DELETE THAT SHIT NOW
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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 2 months ago
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DEAD IN THE HEAD
KINKTOBER DAY 28 - DUMBIFICATION WITH JIM
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Pairing.| Jim x fem!reader
Summary.| You put yourself into a close call, Jim saves you and wonders how dumb you really are.
Warnings.| Dubcon, head m!receiving, dumbification, deep throat, degrading.
Word count.| 1.2k
Notes.| Had to do him on the 28th
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“How fucking stupid are yah, aye!” Jim lectured in hushed tones as he shoved you into your most recent hideout, a small apartment building west of London. 
Almost tripping on over your cheap sneakers, you sniffled back your tears, your body still trembled from the terrifying close call. If it wasn’t for Jim and his handy baseball bat, you’d be ripped from limb to limb instantly. Jim huffed out in frustration and dropped the bat to the floor, his hands rested behind his head as he paced around the room. The only sounds were his heavy breaths and your quiet sobbing. 
It was all your fault, even though you had no cruel intentions. You just wanted to help out for once, so you snuck out to a shopping strip in hopes of finding more supplies. Jim warned you against it when you first considered it. Too dangerous for you, he claimed, he’d always have to accompany you, he continued. But you were sick of contributing nothing to your duo. 
As you stood in the middle of the room like a lost puppy, Jim felt a pulsation of pity towards you. Jim exhaled as he tugged off his blood stained shirt, his pale skin filled your orbs, you gulped at his thin frame emerging closer to you. Not gently, however not roughly, he pulled off your stained hoodie, your hands rubbed over your bare arms. Jim bit his lip at how cropped your singlet was. You pouted at the specs of dried blood on the bridge of his nose and forehead.
The two of you were already sleeping together, the apocalypse split everyone’s souls in half, you both desired someone to hold onto, to comfort one another. The attraction was always clear and love had been growing daily. Jim took you into his arms, he swayed you gently, his eyes bore into your skull as your gaze remained low, fearful of his justified anger towards you.  
“Almost got us killed out there” Jim mumbled, his cold lips close to your ear, you felt his breath fan against your skin, it spiked up your goosebumps. 
You tried to apologize, but the words became mush as it left your lips, you whimpered in total humiliation. Jim chuckled at your timid behavior, how could he stay mad at you when you were so damn helpless? 
“How dumb are you?” Jim whispered. 
“Jim?” you frowned, confusion whacked over your expression. It only seemed to prove his point. 
“Come on, tell me how fucking dead in the head you are” Jim laughed as he tapped his fingers on your skull. 
Your orbs darted around as you tried to read the room, Jim’s expression was so sternly serious that you weren’t even sure what was the right answer. Surprisingly, he was quite patient with your answer, he admired the way your lip trembled and eyes swelled with hesitation. 
“I’m really dumb” you eventually whispered. 
“Keep on going” he exhaled, his hands rubbing against your lower back.
“Jim-” 
“Go on!” Jim hissed and he pulled your body against his, his erection poked against your stomach. 
You whined out, your hips awakened, desperate to hump against him. Sex always took the pain and angst away, it was a blissful distraction, for the both of you. Your thighs squeezed together, you fell to your knees, your hand shot up to rub his bulge and Jim sighed out slowly, his jaw stern and hips poked forward. 
“So fucking dumb, I can’t survive without you” you murmured, your mouth watered up, glistering eyes blinked frequently.  
“I know baby, you’re only good enough to please my cock it seems” Jim chuckled in a demeaning tone as you eagerly unzipped his pants. 
Your mouth felt numb, you were mumbling and humming in agreement, not even really caring about what he was saying anymore. As you pumped his hardening cock, Jim tilted his head at you. You looked at it for permission, after a painful minute, your mouth dripping with saliva, Jim nodded his head for you to continue on. 
Your tongue swirled over his tip, licking up every spec of his precum. A heavy sigh echoed throughout the room as Jim closed his eyes, you took him in your mouth quickly. His shoulders slouched, you were always able to relieve him of his aching body and tormented mind. 
“Such a cock hungry slut” Jim muttered, his hands slipped into your loose hair. 
You moaned around him, a wave of vibrations ran straight down to his base. Your hand massaged his balls gently, his blue eyes fluttered at the stimulation.  
“This is all you’re fucking for aye, worshipping my cock. Fucking waste of oxygen really… Dumb bitches always want dick” Jim mumbled, his lower lip stuck in between his teeth. As you nodded your head in agreement, you could feel your walls squeeze, the thought of jumping onto his cock fueled your energy. “Only good thing about you is how tight your fucking cunt is” he insulted, however it felt like the ultimate praise for you. 
Your head bobbed up and down his length, tongue poked all the way out, just the way that he liked it. Jim gulped down, he watched his tip poking against your cheeks as you hollowed them out. As his eyes rolled back, he grunted roughly. 
“You don’t even deserve to milk my cock with your pussy tonight” Jim spat, the grip in your hair tightened as he roughly tugged at the roots. But your eyes only widened at his comment. “Stupid fucking bitch” he swore harshly. 
You whined around him, when you attempted to pull your mouth off, he held you to his base. It quickly became hard to breath, you pushed against his thighs but his hold remained the same. 
“Oh, did you actually understand what I said?” Jim mocked, a sinister grin on his lips. 
As you nodded your head quickly, Jim chuckled and roughly patted your cheek as his hold finally loosened. 
“Bad, stupid girls don’t get to be fucked senselessly, I’ll fuck you when you figure out some common sense” Jim stated, his tone lacked joke. 
You mewled on his size, tears swelled your swollen eyes. But Jim ignored your muffled pleased and fucked your mouth forcefully. The volume of your gags seemed dangerous, however Jim was too built up to care at the moment. The sounds of his huffs, groans and curses implied how close to the edge he was. As he reached his climax, your nose is forced against his skin, cock pushed to the back of your throat, complete oxygen cut off. You cried out, but forced your mouth to remain open as the warm salty substance shot down your throat. The pats of reassurance to your cheek left a mark.
“Good fucking bitch” Jim praised as he let go of you, you fell onto your ass, gasping out, eyes swollen red. “You’ll continue to suck my cock until you know how to fucking stay in line aye? No touching yourself, no humping my thigh, nothing. Stupid girls don’t get to feel good” Jim made known, zero remorse on his look. 
You heaved out, tears slipped down your cheeks, your throat ached as you tried to swallow down the salty taste. With a smug smirk, Jim tucked himself back into his pants. Jim held out his hand which you reluctantly took. As you’re yanked onto your feet, he crashed his lips onto yours, his arms caged your body in.
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lillaluna · 1 year ago
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guilty
"Wriothesley, I'm late," you say, and duck under your boyfriend's big arm, fastening the earring in your ear on the way.
"But you can stay late," Wriothesley says, watching you dash over to the wardrobe where you've started scoping out what you can wear to work.
Even though Wriothesley was now urging you to be late, getting ready in the morning was actually one of his favourite parts of the day. You weren't punctual, so like a cute, dishevelled kitten just waking up from a nap, you ran around his flat almost every morning looking for your things. He watched you dive headfirst into one of the shelves in his wardrobe. Your long hair spilled down your naked back, with only the strip of your black lace bra showing. Lowering his eyes down, the guy bit the inside of his cheek, remembering how last night he had, with his teeth, pulled down your black translucent panties that now clung so appetisingly to your taut ass.
"Where is she," you muttered angrily, worming your way back out of the bowels of the wardrobe. Almost jumping with fear, you put a hand to your chest, breathing heavily when you found Wriothesley already leaning over you, leaning against the wall. Considering your rather large height difference, he loved doing this to you. Looking up at you, his beautiful ice-coloured eyes on you, and teasing you.
"I guess you'll have to stay a while," the guy said with a cheeky grin, and then he reached his rough fingers up to the strap of your bra, sliding them upward to your collarbone and then down to the cleavage between your breasts.
Your pulse quickened with his actions, and like a mesmerised woman you thrust forward, resting your palms on the guy's torso. It was good that he hadn't buttoned his shirt yet, so you could run your fingers over all his muscles, feeling the relief of his body. You reached up on your toes to touch Wriothesley face, but he nimbly picked you up under his hips, and the next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wardrobe door, wrapping your legs around him.
Wriothesley clung to your neck, running his wet tongue along it before biting your earlobe. It sent a wave of goosebumps up your spine, and brought a muffled moan off your lips. You ran your slender fingers through the duke's gray-streaked hair, and then pulled his head back to look into Wriothesley eyes. He smiled slyly.
"Just admit that you hid my things," you said, carefully studying the face of your boyfriend, who already had stubble on his cheeks.
"Guilty," Wriothesley replied without resistance, pulling you into a deep kiss.
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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 2 months ago
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For your au how do you think Bill deals with adjusting to Fords body and just human things in general? Sickness, aging, etc. Does Stan look after him and help? Do they do any holidays or traditions together? Like Stan and Fords birthday, or is it a one-sided/forgotten thing? You mentioned that Bills memory on things becomes more faded the longer he spends in a human body. Does this or never being able to get out/back to his original form or dieing with it scare him in a way?
Sorry if this is alot at once, but this au been on my mind since I saw that first post of it. It's so intense to me and I absolutely love it!
He’s absolutely terrible at dealing with even the most basic cold, and tends to get rather dramatic about it, because to him, all illness is equal, and he doesn’t really process the fact there’s different severities. Stan still looks after him despite this. Well, the first few years together, he tends to do the bare minimum, but after a while, he starts taking a more active role in sickness care.
He realises that, as dramatic as Bill’s being, he really can’t process the difference between a flu and a common cold well, or, possibly, something much worse, so it’s safer to keep an eye on him during sick periods.
Aging is a different beast though. Bill is generally amused by Ford’s face ‘melting’, but it is also a reminder of the passage of time, and his trapped state. It’s part of why he dyes his hair brown. He’s trying to pretend time isn’t passing, that he hasn’t been trapped in this body that long, and brush aside the growing fears he may not figure a way out. He does take great joy in making fun of Stan though. Out of the two of them, he likes to think that Ford — and therefore he — aged better.
An extra plus side is all the new bodily pains! The downside is that it makes being as hyper and active as he usually is more difficult. Agony is a double-edged sword for him. He is simultaneously fascinated, entertained and terrified!
Birthday-wise, Bill does actually play along with Stan, just a little. Mainly because the first birthday Stan celebrated on his own, he offered Bill a cake, which, Bill pointed out he isn’t actually Stanford, so the gesture is pointless… and then he protested when Stan went to take the cake away. Birthday cake became a yearly thing after that. Bill likes it. Stan gets a day of pretending things are sort of normal, even if it’s not. He won’t ever properly celebrate his birthday with Bill though. It feels like replacing Ford, or giving up on him, and Stan doesn’t plan on doing that. His birthday wish is always to Ford to come back.
Bill doesn’t mind any of that, as long as he gets that cake. He’s a trillion years old. Birthdays always feel pointless to him? Maybe even a little funny. It’s like a countdown to death!
The first birthday they really celebrate all out and commit to is when Dipper and Mabel stay, and they have to fully lean into and play the part of twin brothers.
The only other traditions they have is that Bill tags along on Stan’s yearly vandalism of other tourist traps, something they both get a kick out of it, and Bill looks forward to every year. As well as this, they have a particular tradition that stemmed from a drunken game of truth or dare, where Bill dared Stan to spend New Year’s Eve out in the woods, and Stan dared him to join in. Now they… kind of just go camping most New Years. As you do!
Alright. Now that I’m thinking about it, they probably also make Summerween and Halloween into a who can scare the most kids competition.
Finally: Bill’s memory. Yes, it scares him. He’s used to being this untouchable and powerful force to be reckoned with, being stripped of that gradually is one of the worst experiences of this whole thing to him. The one thing he had for a while was that at least he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then, he starts to forget. His new, human mind unable to keep track of a trillion years of existence. The first time he realises he’s forgetting leads to an outburst that Stan has to calm him down from before he hurts himself.
He prefers not to talk about it.
He is adamant he won’t die in this body. He just won’t. He knows Ford’ll die at ninety-two, so he has around thirty years left, and he’s going to get out within that time. He’s sure of it. He has to. He’s Bill Cipher for Axolotl’s sake — whoever trapped him here can’t keep it that way forever.
(He’s coping)
(Also it’s not a lot at all!! I love answering these sorts of asks a lot!! Ty!!)
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oliversrarebooks · 17 days ago
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The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening
Previous > Masterlist > Next
tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse
October 1925
Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.
He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…
But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.
Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"
"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"
"I know it must hurt --"
"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.
"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."
"It's not fair that I feel like this!"
"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."
"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."
"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."
"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.
"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"
"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."
"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."
Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.
"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.
"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."
"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.
"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."
"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.
"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"
His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.
"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."
"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.
Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."
"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"
"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."
"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."
As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"
"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"
"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."
"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."
"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."
"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.
No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.
"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."
"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."
He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.
"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"
"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."
"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"
"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."
"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"
"You know her too?"
"Yes, I'm aware of her."
"Are you going to kill her, too?"
"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"
"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.
"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"
"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."
Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."
"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.
"Working with a vampire?"
"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"
"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."
Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?
"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."
"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"
"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."
"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"
"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"
"I don't think so. I hope not."
"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."
"Yes, of course."
Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"
"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"
"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."
Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.
He was free.
Wasn't he?
It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.
He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…
Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.
He'd been hypnotized into affection.
And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.
And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.
But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.
No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.
He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.
It was exhilarating. But…
For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?
Previous > Masterlist > Next
Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.
I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!
Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!
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@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist
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starshideurfics · 8 months ago
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Thirsty Thursday - Steve’s Competency Kink
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Thirsty Thursday - Steve’s Competency Kink
steddie, omegaverse, canon compliant
Steve isn’t expecting it, having spent so much of the past few days fighting a drop with how much stress his pack is under.
His desire to protect Max would be making it hard enough without the rest of the bullshit going on.
But the rest is going on, and he knows he’s been leaning too hard on Robin and the safety of her herbal scent. Leaning too hard on the pups, taking comfort in caring for them.
It should all be too much for any of them, really. He can smell it all the time: stress and fear and pain. Knows he’s giving off just as much of the same, no matter how much he works to exude calm and safety for the pack.
But here he is, watching Eddie Munson hotwire an RV and getting wet enough that he knows the alphas can smell it.
They must be able to, with how sticky he already feels. He’ll have to peel his underwear off when he finally has a chance, a mess of slick at his crotch.
Robin gives him a very confused look, and Nancy is fortunately focused on wrangling the pups. Eddie has a pair of pliers held in his mouth, the metal hopefully impeding his sense of smell, at least for now.
But Steve knows he’s too close.
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It’s only a matter of time before Eddie picks up on his scent, on the arousal in it.
And it shouldn’t be hot! Nothing about the situation should remotely turn him on!
Steve presses his thighs together, grimaces, and tries his hardest to push down his desire to moan.
It’s just watching Eddie cut and strip the wires, keeping up his conversation with Robin, every movement sure… He knows what he’s doing. It may be highly suspect, but it’s a skill. Another way Eddie is good with his hands, and it makes Steve imagine those hands touching him.
Steve is shocked out of his daydream by Eddie turning to him. The smarmy, “Harrington’s got her. Don’t ya, big boy,” making him blush as he scrambles into the seat, his brain kicking into gear as they steal the RV.
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They’ve made it decently down the road when Eddie leans over Steve’s shoulder and says, “Sorry for dropping the driving on you like that, what with involving you in the actual crime and all.”
“What?” Steve’s still having trouble focusing beyond driving and Eddie’s warm scent.
“Like, everyone else is just an accessory to theft, but if we get busted, it’s you and me—grand theft auto.”
Steve shrugs. “Price of saving the world, I guess.”
“Well, Thanks for being cool about it. Most people get all weird about the shit my old man taught me.”
Steve shrugs again, glances up into the rearview mirror to look Eddie in the eye. “Skill’s a skill, and you’re fucking skilled.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah…” He swallows, feels the words ready to tumble out of his mouth and figures, fuck it, they might be dead by morning. “It was hot.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks again, voice so soft now.
“Really hot.”
His hand reaches forward, grips Steve’s shoulder. “Pretty much everything you do is hot.”
“Shut up.”
“If it weren’t for the fact I’m a total chickenshit, I’d have kissed you after you bit apart that bat.”
“Gross, Eddie! I had blood in my mouth! Monster blood!” Steve hisses.
“And it was fucking hot!”
“Whatever.” But Steve is smiling.
When he glances at Eddie in the rearview again, he’s smiling, too.
Camping in the meadow and prepping doesn’t give them much time, but Eddie and Steve still find a minute to meet up in the bathroom.
Eddie washes his hands, then he shows Steve what else his clever fingers can do.
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darlingsfandom · 4 months ago
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Let's imagine Cillian and the younger!reader on vacation in Greece like they was in yacht, plus paparazzi photos! Thank u🫶
I’d love to go to Greece one day !
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Tw: fingering, oral, drinking, swearing and not proofread!
It was a much needed vacation , after all the success Cillian has had the time for a vacation was now! The two of you had decided on Greece because it’s beautiful , historical and lovely. The first night was spent in the hotel room that over looked a beautiful body of water. It was a nice flight but long! The second day was the two of shopping and looking at tourist attractions!
Today though, today it was just the two of you on a yacht out in the beautiful sunshine. Cillian had helped you apply some sunscreen to your shoulders and nose! You did the same to him but you had to include his chest since yours was covered by your swimsuit.
“I know I’ve said it a million times already but this was needed.” You laughed sitting down against the throw pillow while he poured the two of you each a glass of wine. He held up the glass and clinked with yours before taking a sip. Cillian wrapped his arm around your sticky shoulder and kissed your head as the yacht stayed in the same spot. The sun was warm on your skin, his kisses tickled your neck as he placed his free hand on your chest. “Baby!” You giggled as he took the glass from your hand and set it down before untying the top of your swim suit which made you gasp.
“No need for all dat baby.” He moved your hands away from your boobs and kissed each one before wrapping his mouth around your nipple.
“Cillian! Someone might see us!” The fear in your body quickly changed when you felt his hand spreading your thighs.
“It’s just us baby.” He spoke against your skin as he kissed all the way down your body until he reached the most delicious part. Cillian licked his lips as he pulled your swimsuit to the side as you looked around nervously. This was a new territory for the both of you. Maybe it was the heat ? Maybe it was the wine? Maybe it was because he was actually relaxed but this newer side of sex with Cillian was exciting!
“Now be a good girl for me.” He spread your thighs as far as they could go before he was on his knees and buried his face between your legs.
“FUCK!” You moaned out. It had a been a minute since he had eaten you out. Lately it had been a few quickies or a fast fingering so this was a nice treat. Cillian hooked his arms around your thighs and licked a fat strip up your pussy until he found your clit. His tongue swirled around the pink bud making you moan his name in pleasure. Your hands reached up and massaged your tits as he licked at your pussy like it was the first time he’s ever tasted you.
“Such a delicious little cunt .” He licked his lips to catch his breath before going right back at it with the same amount of passion. Cillian looked up at you making direct eye contact with you as he sucked on your clit hard and as much as you wanted to look away you couldn’t , if you tried to look away he’d spank your thigh. As he devoured you Cillian slid a finger into you making you clench a little bit. He worked you over making sure to lick up your juices while fingering you faster.
“Don’t stop don’t ! Fuck me!” Your hips bucked forward against his tongue and he didn’t let you hold back this time. You used his face to get yourself off . He could tell you were close from the way you were gripping his hair, the way your thighs were shaking and how your voice was breaking.
“Dats my girl, cum fer me! Hmm be a good girl!” He egged you on making your orgasm snap!
“FUCK !!” Tears fell from your eyes as your thighs shook around his head. Cillian was enjoying every second of your orgasm ! Your juices coating his tongue and he was thirsty! You collapsed with a loud breath. You laid there panting as he pulled away licking his lips. He got off his knees to sit next to you and kissed you hard enough you could taste yourself.
“Give me a second and I’ll blow you baby.” You ran your hand over his chest.
“No no baby, today’s about you and your pleasure. I haven’t been fair to you.” Cillian kissed the top of your head and the two of you stayed on the yacht to watch the sunset together.
The next morning when Cillian walked out to the balcony with you sitting there having breakfast he smirked while tossing the newspaper onto the table in front of you. A loud gasp left your body making you almost choke on your fruit. Right there front and center was a picture of the two of you on the yacht.
“Guess I was wrong.” He shrugged his shoulders before sitting down next to you and grabbing your hand to run his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ll be wrong about things from time ta time but I’ll never be wrong about lovin ya.”
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venusvxen · 1 year ago
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The 3D Cannot Create.. So Why Do You Create Fear?
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I’ve been having a recent epiphany that has helped me understand the law better and helped me get rid of fear or at least self soothe when i feel fearful cus I don’t believe in stripping ourselves of our emotions…
I would say “the 3d cannot create” everyday for a YEAR but it wasn’t until a few days ago when i had a lightbulb moment… the 3D… really … cannot create.. it’s nothing more than a mirror… so why do I FEAR my shadow and expect it to show me something different.. why do i fool myself into believing i am the shadow and not the being that casts the shadow??
We fulfill ourselves within our imagination and get so stoked about our desire.. then we leave imagination and come down to the 3d world and bombarded with all the things the senses throw at you. now you start doubting.. you start counting down the time bc it’s been xyz long and you think it’ll never happen.. I literally always do this…
But then i thought to myself… the 3d cannot create any of those scenarios im envisioning… it’s my twin.. it is a shadow.. whatever I experience in the 4d is what i MUST experience in the 3d no matter what because self MUST be expressed
I’ll literally get so confident then expect the 3d to show me otherwise and be fearful and start asking myself what if it doesn’t happen and but if there is no separation between the 3d n 4d and all is imagination…. why would you NOT get it? … seriously… because the only way all those negative scenarios would happen is through persisting in them… it’s all imagination at the end of the day..
the relationship between the 3d and 4d is a simple input and output it’s just us who overcomplicate it because of all the baggage we’ve assigned to the law and all the things we’ve internalized about what we can or cannot do. if you assume something in imagination it MUST come to pass. just like if you go up you must come down. it’s a 1+1=2 situation and yet i complicate it so much…
but at the end of the day.. the materialization is guaranteed … because self must be expressed.. self is the only thing being expressed in this world bc the 3d cannot create..
after having this epiphany i’ve been able to self soothe and talk myself out of fear by reminding myself of this.. the 3d is my dutiful shadow. it follows in my footsteps.. whatever i experience in my real reality i must experience in the physical no matter what. I don’t care if it’s the day before an event and the pieces haven’t fell into place yet.. it MUST happen.. but only if you have confidence in this.. because I’ve noticed wavering is why we have wonky results..
but why do we waver?
We waver because deep down we think there is a separation between the imaginal and the physical. we think the physical is acting on its own outside of us and can create. which is why try as we might to maintain a state of confidence.. for the “big” things or the things that seem “out of reach”,, results may be spotty because we think our imaginal experiences aren’t enough and we convince ourselves that any of the things happening on the outside are out for our control
the truth is all that’s missing is confidence… a knowing.. an unshakeable conviction that what we say will happen MUST happen and WILL happen.. but the only way to do this is to truly understand that the 3d is your reflection and it can’t possibly show you anything you haven’t experienced…
I personally am now so so so excited for the end of the year and am looking forward to school (something i DREADED).. because i know a specific event MUST take place now which will change my life. why? because the real me experienced it in imagination and self must be expressed. why would my 3d show me something different unless i continuously waver and imagine something different.. if i experienced it why wouldn’t it push out? this realization has helped me be excited about things i was previously anxious about
i feel like the thing w the law is how “simple” it is but it’ll take you years to understand a simple concept. i hope you guys get what i’m saying here
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snoozepotato · 2 years ago
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We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)
Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.
she/her pronouns + female anatomy
Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff
Masterlist
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Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)
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Part 14
~UNDONE~
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You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.
Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!
You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.
Fuck, you're a wreck…
A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.
Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.
There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.
You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.
“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.
“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?
“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.
“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.
“I’m fine,” he mutters.
“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.
“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.
Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.
“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.
“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.
You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.
“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.
“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…
“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”
The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.
Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.
“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.
“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.
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His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.
Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.
“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.
“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.
The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.
“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.
Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.
It's overwhelming.
Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.
Icy doubt licking at your chest.
“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.
“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.
You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.
“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.
“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.
Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.
“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.
“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.
Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.
“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.
A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.
“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.
“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.
“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”
Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.
Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.
“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.
His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.
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You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.
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The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.
The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...
But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask… 
What a fucking tease.
“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.
Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.
You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.
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WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)
Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!
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@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie
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Text
Series Masterlist
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Chapter 9
Warnings: Panic attacks, masturbation
Days had passed and you found yourself feeling comfortable, approaching safe. Carol had kept every word of things she promised with the exception of one: you had not been trained to defend yourself. Once you had gathered the courage to ask her about it, the kind woman had explained she wasn’t sure how to go about it just yet with the amount of fear and uncertainty you still carried. 
It was understandable. If a man approached you too quickly, you still cowered. You continued to feel intimidated by some of the other women. And then there were things with Daryl. He continued to avoid you like the plague. Now, he wouldn’t even approach Carol if you were near, often calling her over to him instead. She continued to assure you that he just needed time; that things would become less awkward. She had given no reason to not believe her. 
It was hardly midday when you ventured outside unescorted. You had helped Maggie with the dishes inside. She had made a valiant attempt at conversation but she was one of the females you still had a hard time being near. Being outdoors stripped you of the anxiety the chore had left you with, feeling less confined. 
You spotted Carol immediately, the smallest of smiles curving your lips. She was standing at the corner of the wall, looking out toward the gardening area and the fences beyond. You picked up your pace, eager to feel the safety only her presence provided. 
“Carol!” Your voice was still small and unsure but it was much better than the whispered replies you gave upon your arrival. It had only been a couple of weeks. You were constantly reassured that it would get better. 
“Oh, Y/N. Wait—”
The words failed to stop you in time and you skidded to a halt just in front of her—and Daryl, who was leaning against the other side of the wall. 
“Um, hello, Daryl.” You dropped your head, eyes on the ground. The man hummed, bumped Carol with his elbow, and then walked away a few paces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see him. I wouldn’t have—”
“Hey, it’s alright.” Carol rubbed your arm, angling her head in an attempt to catch your gaze. “It’s okay.”
You gave a tiny nod, lifting your head but your eyes stayed focused on the ground. “I was wondering if maybe—if you don’t mind—could we work with my walker training a little today?” Carol opened her mouth to answer before letting her gaze shift. She held up a finger and strolled over to where Daryl was standing. 
You watched with muted curiosity, ready to drop your eyes should he look your way. Carol stood shoulder to shoulder with him, leaning into him to say something while keeping her gaze forward. Whatever she said had his head turning her direction so quickly that you flinched. 
His posture had tensed, his eyes wide beneath the dark fringe of hair. Carol kept speaking even while he shook his head vehemently. When her head turned enough for you to see her face, she was smiling. Daryl appeared to be fighting some sort of inner battle while under her soft gaze. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenching repeatedly. 
“Fine.” You heard him growl. 
Carol squeezed his bicep and turned back to you with a broad grin. “Great news! Daryl is going to train you.” 
Now it was your turn to go rigid. “Do you—are you—he hates me.” 
Carol clicked her tongue at you from behind that smile of hers. “We’ve talked about this. He doesn’t hate you. Daryl’s complicated but he’s got a good heart.” She gripped your chin ever so gently, making sure you met her eyes. “I trust him with my life.”
You felt tears stinging behind your eyes; from fear, from guilt, from a place of longing. You knew you could trust Carol with your life and she trusted Daryl, you could learn to do that too. “Okay.” 
She smiled again and moved her hand to your cheek. “Good. Now get on over there. He’s waiting for you.”
“Now?” You gasped. 
“Yes, yes. Go, go.” She made a shooing motion and crossed her arms when you finally made a step toward where Daryl was still standing. 
You didn’t quite stop at his side; just behind him instead. Swallowing hard, you gathered enough courage to extend your arm and tap his shoulder. He didn’t turn but acknowledged you with a grunt. “Carol, um, said you would help me. Help me learn to fight off the walkers.”
“Mhm.” Daryl shifted on his feet. “Y’ever use a gun ‘fore?”
You hadn’t. Growing up, your mother didn’t believe in guns and never allowed your father to have one. When the man broke into your house the day after your seventeenth birthday, maybe if there had been a gun, your parents would still be alive. “No, sir.”
“Daryl.” The archer was already massaging his forehead. “S’gonna be a long day. Let’s go.” He began walking in long strides. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and nearly had to run to catch up. 
Behind, Carol stood with her back against the wall, arms crossed, and grinning. Rick joined her a moment later, wiping the sweat from his brow. 
“You think that’s a good idea?” He asked, watching the two of you. 
“Probably not.” She met the former sheriff’s gaze with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Daryl won’t hurt her. He just needed a little push.”
“More like a drop kick.”
“What? I think they’ll be good for each other.” 
Rick smiled and shook his head. “If you say so.”
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“Ya have ta know what the endgame is ‘fore ya learn much else.” Daryl explained, pacing back and forth behind you with his arms crossed. He had handed you a large knife, the weight of it heavy in your petite hand. “Ya can’t kill a walker the same way ya’d kill a person.”
“Aren’t they people?” You asked meekly, clutching the weapon and not meeting his eyes. You could see his steps halt. 
“Not anymore, no.” His boots were walking toward you now and you kept your eyes on them. “S’a virus. We all got it. No matter how ya die, ya end up one’a them. Unless it's taken care of.”
“Taken—care of?” You finally looked up to find him watching you carefully. The sun softened your anxiety, shadowing most of his features from just behind him. You closed one eye and squinted the other. 
Daryl reached out to tap a finger against your temple, hesitating there before snatching his hand back as if you’d burned him. “S’gotta be the brain.” 
“The brain.” You echoed, looking back to the undead snarling and moaning against the chain link. You felt nauseous on top of the suffocating anxiety. “We’ve all got it?”
“Mhm.” The archer gave you a moment for that information to sink in. Being in such close proximity had his heart beating hard enough to break his ribs. The images he’d manifested that night in the shower forced their way to the forefront of his mind, and he thought he’d be sick. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, cursing Carol with every breath. “Ya ready?”
You began to tremble, flexing your fingers around the knife’s hilt. “No.” You had to be honest. Feigned bravado would get you nowhere. 
“They can’ get atcha.” You nodded and took a step toward the fence with Daryl following. “For now, aim for the eye. S’the softest spot.”
You nodded again. Singling out a smaller female, you lifted the blade, hesitating. 
“Don’t think. Thinkin’ gets ya dead.”
With a deep breath, you drove the knife home, flinching at the squelch of the eyeball being pierced. When the blade was as deep as it would go, you released it. The walker dropped down and dangled from the weapon caught in the opening of the fence. 
“Don’t leave it there.” Daryl corrected you sternly, rushing toward you to free the knife and allow the walker to crumble to the ground. The weapon was wiped clean on his thigh before he flipped it in his hand to catch it by the blade and hold it out to you. “Again.”
When you stabbed the next corpse, you pulled and stumbled back when the knife slipped free. Daryl caught you by your shoulders and let you regain your balance before quickly releasing you. He rushed backwards but kept a safe distance in case something went wrong. 
“Use your momentum. Stab an’ pull.” The archer freed his other knife from his hip and traipsed toward the fence, not hesitating to drive the large blade through an eye socket and pull back with a skillfulness you instantly envied. “Go.”
You mimicked his actions, stabbing and yanking the knife free. It was sloppy with a moment of hesitation you were sure he’d scold you for. Instead he gave a jerky nod. 
“Better. Again.”
Stab. Pull. 
“Again.”
Stab. Pull. 
“Again.”
Stab. Pull. 
“Again.”
By the time the sun was setting, casting a purple and orange hue over the sky, you had nearly cleared the fence on your own. Your arms ached. Your clothes were drenched in sweat. Finally, Daryl said the one thing you’d been yearning to hear for the past three hours. 
“That’s enough. You’re done fer today.”
Dropping your arm heavily to your side, you turned with your eyes on the ground. Just as you started to offer his knife back, you realized that he was already gone. Looking up, you found him nearly at the prison doors. He was in that much of a hurry to get away from you. But surely he didn’t mean to leave you with his knife. 
Maybe you should go give it back? Take that time to say thank you? Maybe you should ask Carol. 
First, you desperately needed a shower. You were filthy. You felt like all eyes were on you as you walked. Your skin began to crawl. Your scars began to burn. You could hear the men whispering. Nails dug into the back of your ears as you covered them, filtering out the filthy suggestions made in hushed tones. 
You couldn’t get to the door fast enough, throwing it open and pressing your back flat to the wall just inside. You panted through whimpers and sniffles, your cheeks wet. 
You weren’t safe. Nowhere was safe. They would come for you. Rick, Glenn, all of them. Even Hershel would have his way. At least he could mend the damage he caused. Daryl. Daryl would watch. He’d let it happen. And then he’d have you. 
“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Take a breath for me.”
You were breathing, weren’t you? Breathing but no air could get through. Your lungs burned. 
“Come on, Y/N. Slow down, take a breath. That’s right.”
Carol. Carol was there. Carol was your safety. Carol promised. “Carol?” Your voice cracked on the second syllable. 
“Yeah, I gotcha, sweetheart.” A warm arm enveloped your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she walked you toward the cells. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I—” Your lip quivered, fresh tears gathering on your waterline. “It’s like—I was back—back with Big Jazz. All the men were—” You stopped walking, wide shining eyes searching Carol’s for reassurance. “They were gonna hurt me. All of them.”
“No one’s gonna hurt you. I promised, remember?” After a moment— and replaying her promise over and over in your mind’s eye —you nodded. “Besides, Daryl wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Daryl was gone.” You replied quietly, moving the blanket aside to enter your cell. You pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in a camisole— leaving your scars visible to Carol. You knew she could see them but your trust in her ran deeper than you could explain. She still hadn’t told you her story. In a way, she didn’t need to. You could sense the pain she had buried. You could sense it with Daryl, too. 
“What do you mean he was gone?”
You gathered your night clothes and draped a towel across your shoulders, hiding the scars from the rest of the prison. “He had already gone inside.”
“Damnit, Daryl.” The silver-haired woman wore her frustration in her expression. The archer was in for it, you surmised. “I told him to stay with you.”
You wiped at your face and sniffled. “I told you, he hates me.”
Carol sighed. “Go take a shower. I’ll talk to Daryl.”
You gave her a tight smile and left the cell. In your time there, one of your most celebrated accomplishments was showering alone. It wasn’t far from your cell to the showers, within shouting distance if you needed the woman. 
You clutched your pajamas tightly, feeling exhaustion pulling at you from the earlier episode. You always felt drained when it happened, along with a sense of hopelessness. Big Jazz still had his fingers deeply rooted in your mind, dragging you down just when you felt you were making progress. 
You opened the shower door slowly. The way it creaked and moaned reminded you of the door to your cage at the club. Once it was open just enough for you to fit, you wiggled through and eased it shut. 
You always chose one of the back stalls. If someone came in, the door would alert you and you would have time to react. You were pulling the towel off your shoulders and the hair tie from your hair when you realized that there was water running. And by then, it was too late. 
You were frozen to that spot, eyes wide and unblinking. 
You were staring at a very naked Daryl. His skin was glistening from the water running down his back to the curve of his ass. His head was bowed and one arm outstretched with a palm pressed against the wall. His hair looked longer with the weight of the water. 
The first thing you noticed was the scars littered across his back. Deep, angry reminders of an unpleasant past. Some looked like your own. You flinched as if a belt snapped right by your ear. 
The second thing you noticed was the movement of his other hand. It was obvious what was happening, but just in case you were questioning, he gave a low groan as his forehead came to rest against his hand on the wall. The muscles in his back, his arm, rippled as he continued stroking himself. 
You started to back away. You shouldn’t have seen this. 
“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, pumping himself faster. “Y/N.”
Your clothes and the towel tumbled from your arms, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Panic bubbled up within you, seizing your lungs in a vice grip. You couldn’t breathe. But the sound went unheard, the hunter's senses muted by pleasure. You crouched, your eyes not leaving his form as you grabbed your clothing. Without another thought that could cause you to hesitate, you ran. 
And never noticed that you’d forgotten the towel on the floor. 
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legend-the-dumb-jock · 1 year ago
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I'm so stressed about the future and growing older. I'm worried about how I'll be able to stay a twink, I already need to shave everyday and it's getting harder to stay thin. Got anything that can help me face my fears of becoming a big old hairy bear?
Honestly if you’re having to shave every day. I’m jealous. It just means the curse is becoming stronger. And it’s only to get worse from here on out. You wake up and look down and yell I horror. You shaved your body. Before you went to bed the night before and looking down now you see that you’re covered in a dense rug once again. What’s worse is it seems like the hair is getting thicker.
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This has to be some sick joke you think to yourself. It just has to be ! You’re supposed to be a twink! Not some hairy bear !! But this is happening all too fast now and you’re running out of razors! You scramble to the bathroom and you find your last razor. Thank god. Relieved you turned your buzzers on and shaved down the fluff once again. When it’s buzzed you take the razor and shave down. Looking in the mirror you’re relieved to see that you’re once again hairless. But for how long. How long is this going to last. Just last night you did this same thing. And that’s when you see it. In the mirror. On your face. You get up close to the mirror. Are you seeing things!! You can see the hair pushing its way out of your chin!! Backing away slowly you can see the 5 o clock shadow forming. You get dressed quickly and find that your clothes are tighter than before. You have to run to the sore down the street and get some more razors! This is going to make you go broke for sure!
But the time you check out. Get back to your apartment. Strip down you are shocked. Not only are you costed in hair. But your slim frame. It’s. Fading.
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Yours abs see no longer there to be seen hidden under a layer of day and hair. And the hair only seems to be getting thicker. You try to shave it down again but this time your buzzer can’t get through the tangled mess. You scream as your body is so itchy now and you just seem to be getting hairier. “Please no! I’m a twink!!” You scream not wanting any of this to happen. When you asked for something to help you face your fears you didn’t mean this !
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Your stomach lurches forward as its mats itself in more hair. Hair continues to wrap itself around your shoulders and down your arms. All the bay down to your toes that seem to be getting fatter. “Please make this stop!!” Your back begins to widen and you done even realize that you back is getting coated in hair just as thick as the front of your body.
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Hair begins to spill from the waistband of your shorts as more hair is forming on your hairy body. Hair that youlll never be able to shave off ever again. And you’re starting to sweat. It rolls down your back and into the crack of butt making it sweaty and swampy. Your Bo kicks into high gear and now everyone will be able to tell you are around. No longer smelling like a round twink but thah of an old hairy bear. One that reeks of masculinity and sweat.
But that can’t be all that happens. You specially mentioned that you wanted to face your fears of being old. Well I already made you a bear. I made a big bear of a man. Now your body will get large. Muscle growing harder. Your gut sticking out more and you’re being hard as a rock and your hard will fall out. Your body hair thicker as your feet begin to stretch. Your body begins to ache as new pains of old age set in. Your back hurts from having to hold a keg up all the time. Your knees hurts from the weight they carry and so does your swollen ankles. That thick beard you aren’t able to shave turns white as your skins ages and sags. Soon your spitting image of a 58 year old man. A large hairy bear of a man. Holding mirror you scream but you can to anything to stop it. You have been forced to become your worst fear. And your twink life is all but long forgotten now.
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rottenpumpkin13 · 7 months ago
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Can we get a Shinra company dance party?
• Shinra promotes a company dance party for charity that requires participation from all departments—no exceptions. The objective is to keep dancing and whoever is the last one dancing, wins.
• Sephiroth came prepared. Though he's not the most enthusiastic about the dancing, he knows this is for a good cause and will do anything to help the charity. But then he looks over and sees that Rufus is simply standing there, nodding his head to the music.
Sephiroth: You're not even dancing. You're simply moving your head. You're cheating.
Rufus: Criticizing the way someone dances is distasteful.
• Angeal is getting a little winded. He's busting out all his dance moves, and he can keep going for another hour or two, but his arms are starting to cramp.
• And then he sees Sephiroth Moonwalk-chase Rufus out of the gym with the Masamune.
• Sephiroth and Angeal lock eyes.
• Angeal dances faster.
• Meanwhile Zack isn't dancing either, he's just doing squats, which then inspires other SOLDIERs to do squats instead of dancing. Tseng (event organizer) goes "not on my watch" and plays the Cha Cha slide to combat this issue.
Tseng: To the left!
Zack: Take it back now y'all! *Cha Cha slides to the right into the wall, and is promptly knocked out*
Tseng:
• Zack is disqualified.
• By the second hour, Cloud is still going strong, inspiring curiosity amongst the other participants as they wonder how he has this stamina without enhancements.
*Lazard dances up to him*
Lazard: Strife, I'm impressed. How is it that you're dancing so effortlessly without getting tired?
Cloud: Back in Nibelheim, there was a woman named Yolanda who one day mysteriously stripped naked and began dancing in the town square. She danced 24/7 and no one could convince her to stop dancing. Even a priest from a neighboring village came and tried to rid her of the demon they thiught was possessing her, but she just grabbed his hand and the two continued to dance for hours until she eventually let him go. And then Yolanda grew tired and fainted from fatigue. They took her to the local physician to be treated, but the exhaustion was too much and she died, after spending 6 consecutive days dancing.
Lazard: Forget I asked anything.
• By the third hour, everyone has dropped out except for Sephiroth and Genesis, so Tseng decides to have them play musical chairs to determine the winner.
*As they encircle the chair*
Sephiroth: You won't get away with this, I will.
Genesis: Oh? Is that fear I detect in your tone? Do you perhaps feel threatened by the possibility that my musical chairs prowess is better than yours? Need I remind you, Sephiroth, that I actually went to preschool and have far more musical chairs experience than you do. I look forward to seeing your face when you lose, old friend.
*The music stops, Sephiroth grabs the chair and runs out of the gym, literally getting away with it*
Genesis: .......
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grimeshound · 19 days ago
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SCOUT’S HONOR.
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word count: 2,292
pairing: rick grimes x negan smith
summary: the one where rick shows off a skill he learnt in the boy scouts, to negan’s amusement.
warnings: 18+, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, oral sex (m receiving), creampie.
a/n: finally uploading my first ao3 work onto tumblr ^_^ this takes place around season 8/9 but i physically cant put a photo of s9 rick without laughing… love him but not his best look i fear
ill most likely use tumblr mainly for casual blurbs or short ideas not long enough for fics, but i wanted to upload this to get the ball rolling. hope you enjoy!
—-
Time blurred in the cell. Minutes bled into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. Negan Smith, the once-feared leader of the Saviors, had been stripped of his grandeur piece by piece. Life in the Sanctuary had kept him on his feet—always something to fix, someone to intimidate, something that demanded his attention. But prison was a complete 180, he was bored out of his goddamn mind. And just when he thought he’d go crazy, like some twisted prayer had been answered, the cell door swung open.
The sheriff strode down the steps, hips swaying with a deliberate, steady rhythm that had Negan’s ears perking up at the echoed sound of booted footsteps filling the prison cell walls. Rick’s expression was closed off, unreadable as he came to a halt just beyond the bars.
“Well, well,” Negan grinned, “Looks like Christmas came early. Missed me that much, Rick?”
Rick’s deadpan expression didn’t waver. “You can’t taunt me anymore, Negan. You’ll be stuck in that cell for the rest of your life. Your days are over.”
“So, you came here to taunt me, huh?” Negan drawled, slumped against the wall with one hand clutching his chest in mock agony. “Wanted to gloat a little, feel better about yourself? And here I was thinkin’ you actually missed me, prick. I’m hurt.”
Rick sighed, the irritation building with every one of Negan’s quips. “I came because I need you. We need directions to a Savior outpost up north.”
Negan’s face lit up as he pushed himself to his feet. Though the height difference between him and Rick was barely noticeable, the space between them always felt charged, like Negan was somehow towering over him. He stepped forward, pressing himself against the steel bars, closing as much distance as the barrier would allow as he slung his arms across the bars, hand inches away from Rick’s face.
“I can finally die a happy man now, hearin’ the great Rick Grimes sayin’ those words.” Negan mimicked Rick’s drawl, his voice dropping low. “I need you.” His tone was husky, his mocking imitation sending an involuntary shiver down Rick’s spine.
Rick had managed to grow somewhat used to Negan’s childish nature, the relentless teasing never seeming to die down. Even when the older was confined in prison. It was impressive, really. Ignoring the taunt, Rick grabbed his keys, stepping inside the cell as the door creaked open. Negan’s expression turned gleeful, an amused glint in his eye.
“Finally givin’ in, huh? Knew this day would co—”
Negan’s words came to a sudden halt as Rick grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back against the cold concrete wall, pinning him there with the weight of his body. “You’re coming with us,” Rick growled, his voice low as he leaned close, the words brushing against Negan’s ear. “And you’ll lead us to that outpost.”
Negan’s eyes flicked back, catching Rick’s intense gaze as he felt a rope loop around his wrists, binding his hands securely. A smirk played on Negan’s lips as he recognized the knot. “Real kinky, Ricky. A bowline knot, huh? Takes me back. They taught me that shit in Boy Scouts, you know.”
Even restrained, Negan’s mouth kept running, his taunts flowing without fail. Rick couldn’t resist a jab back. “I find it hard to imagine you as a Boy Scout,” he remarked, adjusting the knot and squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dim cell. “Oh, I was,” Negan huffed, grinning as he felt the pull of the rope. “Bet you were a real cute Boy Scout yourself, huh? Goody two-shoes Grimes.”
Rick felt a dry chuckle slip out before he could stop it, hoping Negan hadn’t noticed. But by the way Negan’s grin widened, he knew he had. But Negan only smirked, letting his eyes roam up and down Rick’s body, defiance in his eyes.
“Ricky,” he practically purred, “you can keep playing leader all you want. But, if only your people knew. If they saw you the way I see you...”
Rick’s brow quirked despite himself, curiosity flaring before he could tamp it down. He hated it, hated the intrigue that pricked at the back of his mind, that questioning look now painted across his face. Rick didn’t need to ask however, as Negan finished his train of thought.
“Like a whore ,” Negan breathed.
Rick’s mouth went dry, his pulse thundering in his chest. His mind flashed back to every brutal fight they’d had, all the times they’d wrestled each other to the ground—Rick on top, fists swinging as Negan laughed beneath him, their faces inches apart. He’d blamed the feeling that twisted in his stomach on adrenaline, on the thrill of the fight. But now, standing here, that mask of denial crumbled. He saw it for what it truly was. Lust .
Negan’s gaze locked onto him, a knowing glint in his eyes. Hands restrained with the bowline-knot, yet he still manages to have the upper hand. He couldn’t help the arrogant smirk that crept onto his expression. “Just give in, prick. You want it just as bad as I do. Maybe even more.”
Negan pressed in, closing the scant space left between them, eyes trailing over Rick with a predatory gleam. He leaned down, pressing his nose to Rick’s neck. The sheriff’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling as he felt Negan’s warm breath grazing his skin. Slowly, Negan began tracing kisses down Rick’s neck, letting his lips press against the sheriff’s skin. Rick’s hand moved up almost involuntarily, fingers tangling into Negan’s hair, once pure jet black now streaked with strands of gray.
Despite his cocky front, Negan couldn’t hide the desperation that lingered underneath. Cooped up in his cell, starved for touch, every brush of Rick’s fingers sent sparks across his skin. He’d wanted Rick since the moment he’d seen him at the lineup; now, finally, he had him, and it felt like ecstasy.
The air around them was charged, heavy with something undeniable. Even without his signature leather jacket, replaced now by a worn, navy-blue button-up, Negan still carried that distinct scent. Woodsy, with a hint of leather— that intoxicating scent that quickly filled Rick’s senses, overriding everything else. Rick let out a shaky breath as Negan’s tongue traced his neck, letting himself sink into that heady scent.
“Negan, please… need you,” Rick stammered, voice low and breathless. Negan’s hungry gaze locked onto him, something dark and primal flaring in his eyes. “Yeah, baby? Go on, then. You can have me.” That was all Rick needed to hear. He tightened his grip on Negan’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss that was deeper, more intense than any he’d shared before. It wasn’t like any kiss he’d ever had—not with Lori, not with anyone. This was something else. Something that changed him in a way he could never come back from
Caught in their haze, Rick managed to push Negan back onto the cot, the savior’s hands still bound behind him. Negan raised an eyebrow, biting back a wolfish smirk as Rick knelt down, fumbling with his belt.
“Look at you, Rick. So damn eager .” Negan’s voice was thick with amusement.
“Will you ever shut up?” Rick shot back, cheeks flushed, realizing he was on his knees between his rival’s legs—Negan Smith, the man he’d fought so hard against, and the man he’d come to feel so much for. His hands moved down, pulling Negan’s boxers down and wrapping his hands around Negan’s cock. Rick pumped his hand a few times before lowering his mouth. The brunette quickly realized that that was easier said than done, as he couldn’t help but gag loudly, tightly gripping Negan’s thighs as a low groan escaped the man above him. He was fucking big .
“Just like that… Always such a good boy for me…” Negan moaned, chest rising and falling as Rick struggled to take it all in. Rick, always a fast learner, began bobbing his head. The obscene sounds bouncing off the walls of the cell.
“Goddamn, Rick… suckin’ my dick like it’s what you were made to do. So good for me, huh, baby?”
Rick’s tear-filled eyes looked up at Negan, lips swollen and eyes glistening. Negan swore he could’ve cum from that sight alone. Rick, gazing up at him with that heartbreakingly sad expression, his brows knit as tears threatened to fall, brunette curls bouncing with each movement.
“Keep goin’, just like that, M’gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours…” Negan moaned. But just as he felt himself teetering over the edge, Rick pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting his lips to Negan. Precum still glistened at the tip, and Negan’s face twisted with frustration.
“Shit, this some kinda punishment? Payback for all the crap I put your group through?” Negan tilted his head, watching as Rick began unbuckling his own belt, pushing his slacks down just enough to give Negan access. “Want you inside of me,” Rick muttered, cheeks flushed as he settled on Negan’s lap, aligning himself
Negan’s smirk softened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The sheriff, Rick Grimes—his rival, and the man he wanted most, was now here, on his lap. Rick was an amateur, clearly, but that only made this more intimate. Negan felt a wave of pride knowing he’d be Rick’s first—and last.
Rick took a breath, sliding down onto Negan’s cock, biting his lip at the stretch. The sting was sharp and Rick’s pace was slow, easing himself to adjust to the length of it all. Negan only watched, eyes hooded with lust.
“ Ffffuck… so damn good, baby. Takin’ it like a pro,” Negan sighed, as Rick’s movements became smoother, pain slowly turning to pleasure.
“Shit, hurts like hell…” Rick groaned, his eyes squeezed shut.
Negan leaned forward, kissing Rick’s neck softly, cooing, “Doin’ so good, baby… takin’ my dick like a good boy.”
And with that, Rick’s pained groans shifted into desperate, needy moans. Wrapping his arms around Negan’s neck, he rode the older harder, both of their moans reverberating off of the cell walls. Without warning, Negan bucked his hips up, meeting Rick’s hips with his own as he bottomed out, pounding harder with each motion.
“And what would your little Alexandrians say, seein’ their fearless leader like this, huh? Gettin’ fucked senseless like a bitch in heat?” Negan taunted, lips curled into a devilish grin. “Keep this up Ricky, and I might just knock you up.”
Rick’s eyes flew open, wide with arousal and disbelief, his cheeks red as he clawed at Negan’s chest, feeling himself reaching the edge. He’d never felt so damn full in his life. The feeling of Negan pistoning in and out of him at a breakneck pace was driving Rick mad. “F-Fuck, Negan… I… wanna cum, please…”
Negan’s grin softened, his voice low and rough. “That’s it, Rick… You’re such a good boy…” He pulled him in for a soft kiss, an action that would’ve been deemed wholesome if not for the way Negan was fucking into him like a madman. “Beg me.”
Rick looked back at the taller man like he’d lost his damn mind, eyes wide. “Wh-“
“I said, fucking beg me, or I’ll leave you here. On the floor all fucked out like a cheap whore for your people to find.”
“P-Please.. Please let me, Negan- Need to cum, need you-“ Rick mewled, babbling on dumbly, feeling light-headed from the relentless pace Negan had set.
“C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”
That was all it took. Rick’s climax washed over him, his moans filling the cell. As waves of pleasure rode over him, Rick steadied himself as best he could, hands tightly grasped on Negan’s broad shoulders as he began riding Negan harder. Rick looked at him, eyes low-lidded, light-headed and dizzy from the pleasure. The sheriff managed to rasp out, voice hoarse from all the obscene noises that have been escaping past his parted lips.
“Please, Negan.. inside, cum inside me. ”
Just like that, Negan felt that familiar twist in his stomach as came inside of Rick, the hot liquid quickly filling the brunette up to the brim as tears threatened to fall from Rick’s eyes. Panting from the climax, Rick slumped against Negan’s chest, head resting on his shoulder as his breathing steadied. Negan’s hand rubbed circles on his back, soothing him. “Did so good, baby. M’impressed.”
“The… the outpost…” Rick mumbled, still dazed.
Then, realization dawned on him. Negan’s hand was on his back. And as he looked closer, he realized—Negan’s hands were free. The rope, once bound tightly in a bowline knot, lay discarded on the cot. Stumbling back, Rick’s legs wobbled as he struggled to his feet, staring at Negan.
Negan gave a cheeky grin. “Careful there. Don’t want you fallin’ over.”
“The knot… You—” Rick started, realization dawning.
Negan laughed. “Knots weren’t your strong suit in Boy Scouts, huh? Not gettin’ any badges any time soon. Don’t worry, nothin’ to be ashamed of.”
Rick glared, but he couldn’t hide the dazed look in his eyes.
Negan smirked, standing up and placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder, holding his gaze. “I’ll lead you to the outpost. On one condition—you let me out of here.” He extended his hand, and after a pause, Rick nodded, dumbfounded, too rattled to refuse.
Negan handed Rick the discarded rope, watching him with satisfaction as Rick’s mind raced. What would the Alexandrians think if they knew? What if someone had heard them? Panic flickered across his face. Luckily for Rick, Negan knows the younger man better than the back of his hand. Ripping from his thoughts, Negan leaned in, whispering into Rick’s ear.
“Relax, Rick. I won’t tattle. Scout’s honor.”
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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago
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My Future In You | 2.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.
Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, requited love but they’re idiots your honour, smut, pinv, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications
A little past 1am, legs stretched out ahead of you, draped across Bradley’s legs. Some old straight to TV movie playing, giggling like a couple of teenagers. Bradley loudly voices his complaint as he picks up a m&m that had been thrown at his forehead.
He’s in just a pair of shorts, his hair dry now and his curls a little shorter than normal. Navy regulations. You kind of miss the length that he used to have on the back and sides, but this look suits him too.
“I’m just saying, you’re the one who fucked my roommate.” You shrug, mock-nonchalantly, and pretend to focus back on the movie in front of you. It’s some dumb story of a small town cowboy.
In the mood for dramatics tonight, Bradley throws his head back and groans.
“Before I even met you!” He chides, sitting forwards and snatching the candy from you before you have opportunity to turn any more of them into projectiles.
“Then you texted her after you’d already knocked me up.” You remind him, playfully calm.
“Ah, ah — She texted me, it’s not like I would’ve fucked her again — and let’s not forget that you had a whole boyfriend until you were in your second trimester.” Bradley points out.
“And stop saying knocked up. Makes me feel weird.” Grumbling like a discontented teenager, Bradley nudges your leg with his so that you have to look at his face and see his little frown.
All of that seems so far away now. Ryan. Your roommates, who you’ll probably never see again. Christmas with your family. You’ve barely even thought about it all since you got here.
“I’m sorry, Bradley — how should I be phrasing it?” You tease.
His lips tug at the corners, threatening to disrupt his dramatic frown and disarm his little act. A small shrug of those broad, tanned shoulders.
“All those couples at the parenting class keep saying ‘when we found out we were expecting’. That works.”
“Mm, but when I found out I was expecting I cried for three days and when you found out you implied that I was a whore and offered me money. Our story doesn’t really sound like theirs’.” You remind him. He presses his lips together in a line. That feels so far away now too.
He remembers the anger he felt towards you back then, which is a complicated thing in itself. He remembers why, and how — and everything about that first week, actually. He remembers being so furious at you for making that choice without him. A complete stranger, complicating his future when he had just stepped out of his complicated past.
The anger still makes sense to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore, he isn’t proud of the way he acted, but he can look back now and know that it was all just fear.
Going from being a scared little boy and looking after a sick mother, to being an adult and having nothing to care for but himself, to then meeting you. It hadn’t felt fair to have that all stripped away before he had started it.
But now, when he thinks of this living room being empty, or that small room being an office instead of a nursery, it makes this all seem so much more bleak.
The movie credits roll, leaving you even more confused about what the plot was supposed to be. Bradley sits up and pushes himself onto his knees, then parts your legs for him to dip between. You’re sighing softly now, contented as he presses his lips to yours.
“I don’t think you’re a whore,” He mumbles against your mouth, making you chuckle softly against him. “And I’m glad that I knocked you up, for the record.”
Another soft chuckle. He presses his lips warmly to your skin. Cheeks, jaw. A gentle tour of your face.
“You are?”
“Yeah, you’re hot pregnant,” Bradley beams at you, earning himself another little laugh. “And — y’know, I’m excited for the kid too.”
Looking up at him, your fingers circle over his smooth, freckled shoulders. A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before a commercial comes on and disturbs the bliss.
“Time to put the baby to bed, don’t you think?” He asks. You glance down at your swollen stomach and back up at your new boyfriend. Smiling at him, you give a defiant shake of your head.
“We aren’t tired.” You decide.
A soft groan and he cups your belly in his hands, feeling soft fluttering kicks to unfortunately support your claims. Smile growing into an embarrassingly amused beam, you watch Bradley as he pushes your shirt up and peppers kisses across your stomach.
“Tell him to give his old man a break, some of us have to be up in a couple hours,” Bradley murmurs into your skin, earning himself an applause of his new favourite sound. He looks up grinning at your laughter. “What?”
“You, being somebody’s old man,” A quick scrunch of your nose and a shake of your head, laughter still bubbling through you. “Weird to think about.”
His cheeks redden like the tops of his ears, then he grins. Sitting back on his heels, his hands slide along your stomach to rest at the very bottom. Again, he feels a soft little kick against his palm.
“Y’know, I think he’s nocturnal. I barely felt him this morning and now he’s wide awake.” You explain.
Another shrug, smiling as he leans down and kisses your stomach once more. “Wanted to stay up and watch a movie with his folks.” Bradley muses, making you smile. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his fluffy, air-dried curls. His lips press warmly to the underside of your belly, “No harm in that.”
Fingers trailing from his auburn curls, down over the tanned muscles in his shoulders as he peppers kisses across your stomach.
“He’s got you wrapped around his finger already. Old man.” You tease, nudging at his leg with your foot. He chuckles softly, cool breath tickling your skin. Another kiss, then he looks up at you.
“Me? — Mama’s the one letting him stay up late.” Bradley prods, sitting up and bringing his mouth to yours once more. The kiss is slow, lazy, his hand cupping your hip. When he leans over you now, your stomach always bumps into his middle. He’s going to miss it when it isn’t there anymore.
Turning his head, he presses his face into your neck and nips softly at your skin. You hum, keening towards the feeling. It becomes growingly tender, lips replacing teeth, tongue soothing over the warm spots left behind.
Finally, he sits back up and kisses your lips chastely. “Will you come to bed with me?”
“You can go ahead, I won’t wake you up.” You promise.
“I know, but I like falling asleep with you.” He squeezes softly at your hips, remembering to be gentle with your sore joints these days. He sits forwards and kisses your mouth again, then again after that. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he isn’t going to stop until you agree.
Pushing against his bare chest, he sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows at you.
“Fine…” You huff, extending your arms for him. Slipping his hands into yours, he’s on his feat with an annoying level of ease that you can no longer manage. He tugs you up with him.
“I’ll lock up.” Ducking around you and kissing your neck, he leaves you with a gentle pat on the ass and then moves to make sure all of the doors and windows are locked and that the lights are off. You pad along the hallway to your shared bedroom and peel your shirt over your head.
Over the past month, you seem to have really popped. The kid is really making himself known in there. Enough so, that you’re well into the stage now of wearing exclusively maternity clothes or stretching out Bradley’s old gym clothes. Tonight, given the lingering heat, you opt for an old basketball shirt that Bradley hasn’t fit into since high school. Before he grew a foot and lost eighty pounds in his junior year.
It’s not huge on you at this stage of your pregnancy, but gives you the reprieve of a waistband pressing into your stomach.
Bradley’s chest hits your back before you even feel him approaching, turning his face into the crook of your neck, almost knocking you over with his weight.
His hands skim under the shirt and up over your stomach, making an all-too-familiar beeline for your breasts. He groans softly into your skin, growing half-hard against your back.
“Mm-mm,” You’re smiling and shaking your head at him all at once. “You need to go to bed, remember?”
“Fuck,” He breathes out, eyes closed, soft skin under his palms. If he pressed any harder into your back, he would knock you onto your front. “I do.”
Your palm slips between the two of you, reaching back to cup him over his shorts, stroking just loosely over the length of his hardening cock.
“Would be pretty difficult to sleep with that, though.”
“You’re such a tease.” He mumbles into your neck, kneading softly at your breasts. He rolls his hips forwards slightly, using your hand for friction on his increasingly hard cock.
“Are you flying tomorrow?” Your head falls back to rest against his shoulder, his lips sucking softly at the curve of your neck. His realization courses through him like relief, you can practically feel it.
His head shakes quickly. “In a classroom all day.”
Your palm squeezes softly around the tent in his shorts, a quiet hum, mock consideration, leaving your lips. His hands push at the shirt, slowly dragging it up your middle and tugging it over your head.
His eyes feel heavy on you, hands trailing featherlight along your sides. Bradley reached out slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he takes hold of the band in your hair. He’s especially gentle as he takes it down and turns his face towards your hair.
Illuminated by the soft light of the bedside table, Bradley’s becoming increasingly gentle with you — each time that you’ve slept with him recently, you can feel that he’s being more careful than he would normally be. He knows that you’re sore and more tired than you would normally be, but he never once declines the opportunity to have you.
Today is no exception as he turns you towards him, palms skimming along your back, squeezing at your ass as he holds you against him. Laying you down slowly on your shared bed, he notices your lips quirk softly as he covers your body with his.
“What?”
“Nothing.” You give a small shake of your head and lift to kiss him, still smiling when you pull back. He squints at you, studying the amusement on your features. It just makes you want to smile, is all. Him being so wordlessly soft; knowingly gentle. It doesn’t take a conversation or a warning. He knows your limits.
He knows you so well these days. The kind of shampoo or deodorant to pick up. Exactly which spots to press his fingers harder into when he’s giving you a foot rub. Exactly how to make you scowl at him and melt into his arms moments later when he’s being annoying. Your chest heaves with a particularly deep breath.
Bradley’s lips are on your chest, his hands skimming along your thighs, kneading at the flesh.
“Tell me you want me.” It’s a pant, really, just breathless. He rocks himself against your core, sitting back on his knees and squeezing at your hips. He takes that plush, pink bottom lip between his teeth and just stares down at you with the prettiest mahogany coloured eyes you’ve ever seen.
Teasing at an almost smile, you bite the inside of your cheek to contain it. A soft shake of your head and he smiles back at you. You glance down, watching him palm over the tent in his shorts. Finally, you meet his gaze once more. “I don’t think your ego can handle being any bigger than it already is.”
“It can take a little more,” Bradley hums. He exhales, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watches his ring and index fingers dip through your folds, gathering your excitement on the digits. “Tell me you want me.”
You do. So badly that it makes you hot. Makes your muscles go tense. Makes your chest tighten.
“I want you,” It’s an admission that you never would’ve given him months ago, weeks ago even. There’s a lot about you now isn’t the same as it was a few months ago. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. I love you. It’s insane — terrifying, actually. You swallow and stick to what you know, “I want you.”
It would slip so effortlessly off of your tongue. When he’s buried into you, breathing hard into your ear, your face buried into the curve of his neck and god — he still smells exactly like him, now mixed with your body wash that he’s adamant he doesn’t steal. So natural, just another breathless, meaningless exhale in the middle of sex.
“You feel so good,” Bradley groans out, his thick fingers sliding along the nape of your neck and up into your hair. He curls them into your roots and flexes his fist just softly. Just the right amount of tug, a gentle pull that has you moaning against his jugular. “Fuck, baby… you…”
He turns his head, lips grazing your jaw and working lazily along to your lips. When he gets there, finally, it feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. He kisses you slowly, his tongue in your mouth and his hand in your hair. In your shared bed.
The mattress is softer here and he never wakes up with a sore neck because of the shitty pillows. Sometimes he wakes up with a sore neck because of how his body is wound around yours, but he doesn’t mind that as much. Moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you slowly.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
A breath catches in your throat and you aren’t sure whether it’ll turn into a laugh or a cry. Ultimately, it settles into a soft moan, your breath tickling his earlobe and making him shiver. Then, it becomes a laugh. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at that grin on your face.
Stretching out his shoulders, he guides your thighs over the tops of his. He gives them a soft squeeze and slows down a little, giving a breathless nod. “I mean it. You’re so fucking perfect, just like this.”
He wets his lips with his tongue, eyes trailing ever so slowly along your body, rocking his hips forwards tenderly. Briefly, you think that he’s going to say it. It doesn’t happen. Just more expletives, shallow breaths, eager grunts. More kisses, his hands on your skin.
After, when you’re settled into his old basketball shirt, under your sheets, and he is wrapped around your body from behind, his big palm sprawled out over your stomach — you’re okay with it. The silent knowledge that he must be on the same page.
The next morning, he has to be up before the sun is even halfway risen. He’s growing proficient at doing it without waking you. Showering silently and dressing in the bathroom, laying his clothes out the night before. It always makes you stir when he slips back into the room and leaves you with a chaste kiss on the lips, and a soft peck at the top of your rounded stomach. Still, you’re okay with that too.
You squirm a little, laying back against that perpetually uncomfortable plastic-leather mix exam chair. The gel is a lot more uncomfortable when you’re still hot from the mid-day Florida heat than it had been on those snowy mornings back in Virginia. Still, it’s all routine by this point. The cold jelly on your stomach, comfy pants that can easily be pushed down a little, warm sweater to combat the always high air conditioning.
You’re missing the part of your routine that has always made you comfiest: Jake sitting outside in the waiting room. He’s states away, Bradley’s stuck in work, you’re all on your own. It’s just a routine check up — just to check if he’s breach. You’ve been telling yourself that all morning. It hasn’t stopped you from sitting on the carpeted floor of his nursery and staring at his crib, still in the box.
Your heart swells at the idea of meeting him. You’ve been picturing him a lot recently. Your nose, Bradley’s lips. Soft morning cuddles, sleepless nights, constant diaper changes — it’s easy enough to tell yourself that you’re ready, it’s just more of a complicated thing to be certain that you are. Even if you’re not ready, he’ll be here in a few short weeks. You need to remind Bradley to pick up screws for his crib.
The doctor’s brows knit together, she adjusts her glasses and wiggles the wand a little bit, then looks back to you. “Hm, have you been experiencing reduced movement at all, Miss Seresin?”
The question throws you. Blinking at her, chilled from the whir of the air conditioning, you shake your head. Your throat squeezes. “No, not at all. He was kicking a lot last night.”
Both of you look back to the screen. He’s moving now. Little legs just kicking softly in that familiar black and white hue. A quick glance across, you stare at your sweater on the chair where Bradley should be sitting. It’s too cold in here. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to move to get the sweater.
“Hm,” She nods her head slowly. Her face is calm enough, her tone doesn’t give you any clues. The thought that crosses your mind hits you like a speeding semi. Blunt force, speeding — out of left field. Six and a half months of no contact and all of a sudden, sitting alone in this exam room, too cold, you want your Mom.
It’s clear that you’re panicking, and the doctor continues with as much caution as she can. She speaks to you like she’s trying to soothe a crying child, but it isn’t patronising. Her neatly groomed brows raise at you, “Any fatigue, bleeding, stomach pains?”
“I’ve been tired, I guess.” You squeak. She softens, reaching out and placing her hand into yours. Your throat tightens. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s just looking a little bit smaller than we would have expected for this stage in the pregnancy,” Your heart sinks, and the side of the exam table suddenly feels especially empty without Bradley there. The doctor continues on as comfortingly as she can. “I’d just like to run a few tests while you’re here — just to make sure that we’re prepared to make the end of your pregnancy as safe and comfortable as possible.”
As she turns and leaves you trapped in that little grey room with the closed blinds, shutting out any semblance of sunlight, all that you can think about is the first appointment that Bradley ever came to with you. Everything going on back then and how badly you had wanted him to not even show up. How confusingly nice it had felt to have him holding your hand through it. Your head falls back against the exam chair and your eyes burn with tears.
You leave the office with a pamphlet on fetal growth restriction, potential causes and side-effects. It might not be that, she tells you, some babies are just smaller and that’s just fine. They just want to keep a close eye on you these last few weeks. Early delivery is a possibility.
You’re dialing the number out of pure instinct. Flowing tears, running to Mommy — there’s a natural link there. Some kind of hardwired impulse, probably. Chest heaving, blinking back searingly hot tears, you listen to it ring and ring. It’s just a Wednesday morning, maybe she’s at the office. It just keeps on ringing.
Bradley frowns as he listens to the busy dial tone, pulling back and checking his phone. You’d promised to call him when you got out of the appointment. He checks down at his watch. Maybe Jake got a couple of minutes to call you. He has to be back in class. He texts you that he’ll catch you at home and turns.
If his mind were clearer, he might have noticed the stare on him as he turned. The familiar blue eyes, blown wide open. Maverick pales at the sight of the boy at the end of the hallway. Familiar sandy brown curls, a brief look at Bradley’s face. The mustache he had been trying to grow when Mav saw him last has grown in now. Maverick swallows.
He hasn’t seen this kid in almost two years. Not a single phone call or text. He hadn’t even known where Bradley was living after he moved out of the house in Norfolk. And now he’s here, standing at the end of a hallway in a random Navy base that Mav wasn’t even supposed to be at this week. Dressed in his khakis, he’s a kind of familiar that makes Pete Mitchell’s stomach churn.
“Bradley?”
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drefear · 1 year ago
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Hail to the King
Chapter 7: Office
Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs. 
TW: Thigh riding, orgasm, spanking, fear, verbal abuse, sex slavery
“A lesson? I’m not a child.” You retorted, but you heard your voice shake as you spoke and he smiled cruelly. 
“You sound unsure. Wanna try that again, brat?” He clicked his tongue, a sound you were becoming too familiar with, as he folded his arms across his chest. The size difference between the two of you made Miguel fill with pride. 
“Get out of my office.” You answered and he just grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward to fall into his abdomen. “Whose office is this?” He asked and you just boiled a bit more, hating the way his eyes made you nervous. 
“Fine.” You felt his hand slide down your arm to your shoulder and onto the crook of your neck, eyes never leaving his. The skin of your arm practically buzzed from his touch and he knew this, seeing your resolve melt before him because of barely a touch. He thought about the way your pussy clenched around his fingers the other day, how you looked in a fit of passion and right before he denied your orgasm. 
“Stand up.” He instructed, feeling a familiar twitch in his pants as he watched, noticing the way your skirt didn't crease around your hips when you moved. He waited until your look of hesitancy became a cold glare and moved to grab the back of your neck, bending you over the edge of your desk now. A small yelp escape your lips as he held you there, using the other hand to tug your skirt around your waist. 
“So you can listen.” He smirked as he saw the sight before him with merciless joy and a mocking tone. 
“When I want to.” You added spitefully and he ignored the comment, instead slapping the meat of your ass harshly. You jumped a bit, the hit of his hand unexpected. 
“You like this, I can tell.” He added and bent over you, pressing his chest to your back as he bit the top of your ear. “Tell me.” He demanded and you arched into him instinctively, not able to deny yourself the pleasure of this anymore. 
“Ok, ok, yes…” You hurriedly answered, hoping to get what you’d wanted. 
“Good.” He nodded and dropped you, backing away once more. You let out a pitiful sound and made him laugh as you spun to face him, watching him sit in your office chair and wrake his eyes over your flustered form. “Sit. “
Your expression became clouded with confusion as you scanned him, then seeing him use two fingers and tap his thigh. You licked your bottom lip before you moved to straddle his thigh, cheeks heating up as you became face to face with him. Red eyes made you feel small, miniature against his large body. His thigh flexed under you and immediately made you throb a bit, taking your breath away as he smirked and leaned into your ear. 
“You’re going to ride me like this until you soak me, understand?” Your eyes widened and you gulped hard as he smiled and bit your neck hard, forcing your hips to roll against his leg once more. Arching your back, your hands gripped his shoulders until the fabric scrunched and pulled under your tense fingers. His palms moved to your ass as he forced you into a rhythm, thrusting your pussy against his muscular thigh over and over until you were sweating and moaning into his ear. He thrived on the control he had over your body without even taking any clothing off. His One hand moved to the front of your skirt and slipped under the front when you started bouncing on him on your own, finger pressing and circling your clit slowly. Miguel licked a heavy strip against your throat as your high built into an overwhelming need to release. 
“That’s it, sweet girl, let go for me. I got you.” He whispered and you let out a loud sound from the back of your throat, burying your mouth into his shoulder as you felt the clothing of your panties and his dress slacks become soaked under you. He chuckled and he pulled his face from yours. “Will you kiss me now, brat?” 
“Not a chance.” You stared back, panting a bit. 
You both watched the other silently as you filled the air with a toxic attitude; immense stubbornness and undeniable sexual tension. 
The stand off in your office continued for a moment before the phone rang and made you snap out of your trance, answering immediately. Standing up, you picked it up and held your chest as MIguel stood next to you now.
You listened and nothing came. 
“Hello?” You asked and you heard a voice begin to talk to someone, anyone listening on your end. 
“Tell O’Hara that we’re coming for the girl-” The voice said and then the line went dead. Your eyes looked up to see Miguel standing with the plug in his hand, ripped from the wall. You dropped your hand, the phone falling to the floor as your mind raced. 
“Were they talking about me?” You asked and his body tensed, making you get louder. “Answer me!” 
“Yes, they want you.” “Why?” You begged, needing some sort of answer, but before he even moved, the door flew open and Jess burst in. Miguel barely flinched as he looked at her. 
“I tracked the location of the call.” She stated and you felt your legs jelly, knees wobbling a bit. What was going on? You felt weak and light headed. 
“Get Lyla on the phone, call Punk and Lego to come get us, and get Miles and Gwen to Peter. I need this to go smoothly.” He instructed and suddenly the room was quiet to your ears. Jess said your name, but it sounded so distant, so faded compared to the blood pounding in your ears. Miguel’s hand touched your shoulder and you tugged yourself away from him, stumbling backwards and hitting the ground. As he took a step closer, you scrambled on the floor into the wall behind you as tears dripped down your cheeks. 
“What the fuck is going on?” You begged and Jess furrowed her brows behind her sunglasses, looking from you to Miguel. 
“You haven’t told her?” She sounded mad and he shot her a warning look, “Well, this makes a lot more sense.” She huffed with anger and shook her head. “You need to tell her while I get everything ready.” Jess said and walked out, leaving you on the ground sobbing with Miguel a few feet away. 
The quiet of the room was palpable as your sniffles and cries were the only sound to be heard. 
“I told you that Eddie was working for the other biggest mob organization in Nueva York.” He spoke, not sparing any sweetness in his explanation, “But I didn’t tell you that his next target was you.” 
The world stopped. Everything in your body froze, a numbness settling in your bones as tears continued to crawl from your eyes and down your raw cheeks. Your sights fell on your ring finger, thinking of your ex. 
“The organization knows your family has money, and they wanted to extort them for it. Either hold you for ransom, or sell you to the highest bidder.” He concluded and everything began to make sense. Eddie always was sloppy, he loved money, and he hated the idea of you being anything but his. Once you two were separated, he’d called and left messages with screams of hateful name calling. Whore, slut, hooker, and so on, as he assumed you were having sex with other men. Of course, you actually weren’t, but you refused to answer his calls. 
He said in one message ‘might as well just have sold you when I had you, made some money off of ya.’ You never took those words seriously, until now. 
Your hands felt numb as your throat got dry, heavy breathing while your eyes blurred with more tears. You could barely make out Miguel crouching near you, and you squeezed your eyes shut now. 
“We need to go, now.” His voice was softer now, reaching out with an open palm to hold your hand. “I need you to collect yourself and seem ok for now so I can protect you, do you understand?” His instructions were less demanding and more gentle this time around, making you nod. “Good, let’s go.” He helped you up and placed his suit jacket over your shoulders, walking you out of your office and to the front desk where Hobie was waiting with a much shorter man with reddish-brown hair.
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