#and its hard enough without all this bullshit

[officerwhitmore]

’Fuck, you look good with your lips on my cock,’ Tony murmured, his breathy voice still accented with that southern twang. Of all the compliments he’d given Vincent on his appearance, it was the only one Vincent could bring himself to believe. Vincent moaned low in his chest as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the underside of Tony's cock, smoothing his tongue over velvety skin with each one. It was intoxicating how much Tony seemed to enjoy it, hips tilting up and down in short little thrusts as Vincent licked and sucked, an undeniable tell that just this exploration alone had him eager to plunge his cock straight into him. There was power in the fact that Vincent was capable of making this man ache; power in the way Tony’s fingers gradually tightened in his hair, breaths growing a little louder, the muscles in his stomach flexing as he held himself back from doing whatever it was he was clearly eager to do.

Vincent moaned again as he licked his way up Tony’s cock in one long, wet stripe, holding Tony’s gaze as best as he could with his attention occasionally flicking down to the thick silver barbells that glittered on his chest. He tasted precum when he made it to the tip — salty-slick and slightly sweet, a nearly perfect mirror of the taste of Vince's own precum, which he’d first licked off of his thumb so long ago, he could only vaguely estimate how old he might’ve been the first time he’d done it. Mid-teens, maybe, when his furtive experimentation with DeAndre had made him curious. He’d never so much as seen DeAndre’s dick in person, but he had felt it up over his jeans and grinded against it, just the suggestion of its heat and length enough to have him imagining what it might be like to taste it for himself. He might’ve, eventually, if given the time. If his mother hadn’t caught them. If DeAndre hadn’t been sent away and beaten for doing something even Vincent knew at the time shouldn’t be punished. A healthy thing. A natural thing. Months later, when his father left a pack of condoms under his pillow the evening Vince brought his first girlfriend over for dinner, the hypocrisy of it disgusted him. Fuck who you like as long as they don’t have a dick because… Jesus? Bullshit. He hated him for it. Then he ended up using the condoms anyway.

Vincent looked down at Tony’s cock almost lovingly as he caught his breath, something like a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as Tony’s cock twitched impatiently, glittering with saliva everywhere Vincent had kissed. Vincent had always had a taste for wet, slippery cocks shimmering with water, oil, spit, or cum — fresh out of a shower, mouth, or pussy and begging to be licked. There was something undeniably erotic about the way the wetness clung to it, tracing its length, turning it glossy and slick to the touch. Often, he found he didn’t mind when the rest of the body was wet too, every curve, dip, and muscle glittery-moist and laced in light. Sloppy wetness, skin-on-skin, slick and smooth and fluid.

He’d always loved eating out Stella in the shower. Gliding his hand up and down her body, he licked and sucked at her throbbing clit until she could do little more than clench around his pounding fingers and whimper his name. But he had no doubt that Tony would be even better. He could easily imagine the man’s hot, hard muscles slipping against his palms as glassy droplets clung to the hair on his skin. A new shape, a new texture. God, Vince wanted it, thirsted for it, starved for it — and as he worked his tongue in his mouth, building up spit so Tony’s cock would slide in easy, he had to tilt his hips back from the couch so the image alone wouldn’t make him spill over while pressed against it.

By the time he looked up at Tony through his lashes, he was mostly confident that he’d be able to swallow him whole without suffocating on his cock, as if that wouldn’t be a fucking spectacular way to die. It surprised Vince how erotic it was to hear Tony chuckle at his goofiness while Vince was on his knees. The sound stirred a dangerous fondness in Vince’s gut, and he distracted himself from it by turning that laughter into a throaty moan as he circled his tongue around the tip of Tony’s cock before sinking his mouth down around the throbbing length until his lips met Tony’s fist.

Everything from then on was so profoundly incredible that it all felt as if it had occurred in another universe, Vincent’s mind sinking deep into the glittery black oblivion of pleasure, fullness, heat, and euphoria that the only thing he registered as belonging to the real word was the brilliant sound of Tony’s deep, solid voice panting and cursing and moaning his name. The fingers in his hair were tight enough to make his scalp burn, and Tony’s opposite hand clenched his forearm like a vice in the middle of rubbing up and down his thigh, limiting Vince’s movement to a tight, trembling squeeze. Forced against the couch by the cage of Tony’s legs, Vincent more owned than he ever had, like his only purpose was Tony’s pleasure, his only resource Tony’s cock. It was a sort of euphoria of its own, that rawness, that ownership, that limitation of his own reality. Immersed in this state of being, his next breaths quite literally dictated by the hand that gripped his hair, Vincent felt almost entirely at peace. It was a foreign mind-state to Vincent, one which he’d believed entirely impossible. One where he thought nothing and felt nothing and wanted nothing at all. One where, for the first time in his life, he felt… normal.

But maybe there was one thing he did want. One thing he truthfully had come to believe he couldn’t live without. He wanted to stay right here, unmoving, until his brain simply ceased to function. Which would happen soon if he didn’t come up for air. But Vincent didn’t care about that either. He wanted to rest. He wanted to stay.

’Don’t stop, Vince,’ moaned Tony, his deep voice foggy through the veil of nothingness that was slowly descending upon Vincent’s mind. Vincent was on the precipice of either coming, passing out, or both when the hand in his hair tugged him up like a root, tearing him out of that thick haze of bliss as jarringly as if he’d drenched him with ice water. Vincent’s body pulled in massive, whooping gasp on pure instinct, his lungs flooding with cool air so quickly, it was almost painful, his throat throbbing and sore in the sudden absence of Tony’s cock. Vincent rubbed at his throat almost drunkenly, hand heavy, head still spinning as the oxygen returned to his brain with each heaving gasp. In a way that would’ve been comical to anyone but Vince, he looked indignant as he met Tony’s gaze, frustrated at the fact that he’d been torn out of that perfect peace. ’Don’t stop’ was what the guy had just said, right? And then he pulled him off his cock? What the fuck kind of sense did that make?

“I wasn't gonna ‘till you pulled me off, goofy,” Vince panted with a faint grin, still breathless. It was thanks only to the fondness in Tony’s gorgeous brown eyes that he’d managed to call the man goofy instead of jackass, dipshit, or something else entirely uncalled for. In his current light-headed state, it was nearly impossible to remember that Tony was a guy he’d barely spoken to and not a best friend, lover, confidant, or any other of the myriad things they seemed to have confused each other for over the course of the afternoon. And maybe it was only because of the oxygen deprivation that Vincent’s brain was allowing itself to acknowledge those things at all.

Vincent shuddered as Tony loosened his grip of his hair and ran his fingers through it, blunt nails scratching back and forth over Vincent’s scalp and spilling goosebumps down his shoulders and neck. Vincent breathed a sigh and his hands gravitated to Tony’s cock as if by muscle memory, wrapping around the hot, wet length and gliding up and down in slow strokes as he let his eyes flutter shut. Vincent pulled in a sharp breath when he said it again, those two words, that ’good boy,’ and it must’ve been the sudden, hot clench of his heart that made his eyelashes bead with tears. Before he knew it, he was begging for it, opening his eyes and looking Tony right in his perfect face. “God, call me that again, Tony," he said, and to his own horror, he heard his own voice shake. “Say it again, please, I need to… I need to hear someone say I'm…”

Searching Tony’s face, eyes darting up and down his expression, Vince found himself with his mouth wide open, unable to speak. No matter the want in his chest, the word was too strong, too heavy, too thick to cross his tongue, as if he couldn’t fit it past his teeth. His voice came out in bitten, breathy stutters where the words should’ve been. But in the end, it didn’t matter — because in that exact instant, the music playing on the counter stopped dead in the middle of a lyric: ‘perfect, perfect, you’re too good to be tru—’

And Vince’s phone vibrated, its hard rubber case shuddering against the kitchen countertop once, twice, until the ringtone began. Stella’s ringtone. Two Weeks. It hadn’t always been the ringtone he used for her, but it had been for the past year, at least. She’d probably cry if she ever heard it; ever found out what it meant. ‘Save up all the days... A routine malaise... Just like yesterday, I told you I would stay.’ It was a song about marriage; more specifically, what a marriage could become.

Vincent’s eyes blew wide and his heart thudded in his chest once, so hard and loud and heavy that it nearly made him scream. And then it stopped — for one long, cold, terrible moment, everything stopped. It was over. Him, Tony, this afternoon, his marriage, his life — done. Or at least it felt like it. And then he blinked. And he could move. And he could speak. And what he said was, ”No,” a hard breath that sounded like it was punched out of him. He climbed to his feet in an instant, stomach twisting, fingers fumbling his cock into his pants and ripping his zipper into place all while he breathed out, “Fuck, fuck, no, shit, no,” like a goddamned mantra. He rounded the couch and flew to the counter so fast he could hardly breathe, the breeze of the swift motion wicking the faint sheen of sweat on his chest. It was only once he collapsed against the counter that he realized he was shirtless, half-naked, still hard as granite, breaths coming out in hot, hard gasps of panic. The phone still rang — ’Would you always? Maybe sometimes? Make it easy? Take your time...’ — and he counted his breaths until his hands no longer trembled.

With one final, deep breath, he picked up the phone and answered it. Vincent's pulse thundered in his ears as he pressed the phone to his cheek, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. He tried to steady his breathing, forcing down the frantic beat of his heart, but it was no use. The room felt too hot, too loud, too sharp. Every second stretched and snapped, taut with tension as Tony’s presence loomed in the corner of his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth dry.

“Hello?” His voice came out strained, thin, like a thread ready to snap. He cleared his throat, exacerbating the ache left by Tony’s cock.

There was silence on the other end, heavy and suffocating, until it was broken by a shuddering breath that made Vincent’s stomach twist. Stella’s sobs, raw and unfiltered, spilled into the receiver. He straightened, every muscle in his body going rigid. “Stella?” His voice was solid now, alert. “Hey — Stella, are you okay? Is June okay?”

“Vincent?” Stella’s voice was a broken whisper, jagged with pain. “Where are you? It’s almost 5:00.” Her voice cracked at the end, dissolving into another soft sob.

Vincent’s eyes darted to the far corner of the room as if searching for answers, the guilt wrapping around his chest like a vice. He struggled to keep his voice steady. “I told you I was staying late at the station to help Angie, remember?” He forced a gentleness into his tone, softening it, as if the lie would sting less that way.

There was a pause, filled with the muffled sound of Stella trying to catch her breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right, I forgot, I just…” her voice trailed off on a trembling sigh. She sounded small, fragile, nothing like the woman he knew her to be. “Vincent, something happened.” Her voice broke on the last word, and it pierced through him like an icicle to the chest.

Vincent leaned against the counter, fingers tightening around the edge as he willed himself to stay composed. June. June June June June— “Stella, talk to me,” he said, and his voice was hard, edged with frustration and panic before he could force himself back into a tone that communicated a patience he didn’t feel. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetie. Is someone hurt?" His heart pounded, each beat ricocheting through him with painful intensity.

“It’s…” Stella hiccupped, struggling to breathe between sobs. “It’s Mom and Mia. They were driving in the city, and there was this truck at the stoplight, and… Vincent, it didn’t stop. It—it hit them. I just got off the phone with my dad. They’re in the hospital, but it’s bad. Mom’s unresponsive and Mia’s severely injured and—” Her voice cracked, splintering into a sound that made the air in the kitchen feel razor-thin. “Evan’s gone, Vince. He didn’t make it. He was only three. My little nephew, he’s just—he’s just dead.”

The world seemed to tilt under Vince’s feet, the weight of her words crashing over him in waves. He gripped the counter to keep himself upright, eyes darting to the floor as he tried to process the flood of information. “Oh my god,” he breathed, the words catching in his throat. His mind raced, images of her mother’s kind smile and Mia’s laughter mixing with the gut-wrenching thought of Evan — the toddler who barely had a chance to live. He’d been in the waiting room when he was born. He’d held him, swaddled him, smiled in pictures. He was so precious. As precious as Junie had been all those years ago. “Stella, I’m… I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Stella’s sobs deepened, becoming more erratic. “I don’t know what to do, Vincent I don’t… I need you here. Please, I need you right now,” she pleaded, her voice raw and trembling. The desperation in her words clawed at him, a visceral reminder of the depth of her pain, and the chasm between them suddenly felt endless.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Vincent said. It cut deeper this time, the guilt seeping into his bones, making him feel like the liar and traitor he was. He risked a glance at Tony, and the room shrank, the air pressing in on him. “Does June know yet?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter what little control he had left.

“No,” she sobbed, the sound gut-wrenching and full of grief. “I couldn’t… I didn’t want her to know before you came home. She… she held him when he was a baby, Vincent. Remember? I want you to be here when we tell her, I can’t— I can’t do this by myself, Vincent, please.” Her voice cracked, and she dissolved into broken weeping again.

Vincent’s chest felt like it was caving in. He rubbed a hand over his face, the coolness of his palm doing nothing to settle the storm inside him. “I’ll be home soon, sweetie, I promise. Just stay with her, okay? I’m coming.” he said, voice trembling with a sincerity that felt at odds with the heat still pulsing through his veins. He glanced at his smart watch, calculating how long it would take to leave Tony’s, stop for food, and get home. There was no way she’d be cooking tonight, nor for the next couple of days. It’d be terrible to expect that of her. “Are you and June hungry?”

Stella sniffled, and for a moment, there was only the faint sound of her trying to calm herself. “I can’t eat. If I eat, I’ll just throw it up. But June… I haven’t made anything for her yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, sweetie,” he said, forcing calm into his tone as he glanced at his watch again, looking down at June and Stella’s smiling faces. The image blurred in his vision. “I’ll pick something up on my way home. Just breathe, Stella. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a fragile pause, then, “I love you so much, Vincent. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The words crushed him, the weight of them squeezing his chest until he could hardly breathe. She hadn’t said that in months — not like this, not with intoxication slurring the edges. It hurt more than he expected, the sudden reminder of the woman he’d promised to stand by forever, a promise he’d spend the afternoon hammering to bits. His voice wavered. “I love you too, Stelly.”

The line went silent, and he let the phone drop from his ear, staring at the blank screen as he struggled to catch his breath. The room was a mess of guilt and echoes, each second stretching into an eternity. He turned, eyes meeting Tony’s from across the living room, and the realization of what he’d just done — what he was doing — hit him like a fucking tidal wave.

“I have to go,” Vincent said, looking at Tony with wide, panicked eyes. “Now. I have to go right fucking now.”

Vincent turned away from Tony without waiting for a response, his entire body trembling with the urgency of the moment. He hurried around the couch, spotting his duffle bag half-slumped against the base of the television. The old carpet muffled his hurried steps as he dropped to his knees and yanked it open, hands diving inside to find his uniform.

The room felt thick with tension, the air almost buzzing against his skin. He could still taste Tony, feel the heat of the man’s hands on him, but that all faded into the background noise of his racing thoughts. Guilt clawed at him with relentless fingers as he stripped out of his pants, the rough fabric scraping against his skin in his haste. His heart thudded so hard, he thought it might splinter his ribcage.

He fumbled with the buttons of his uniform shirt, each one taking an eternity as his shaking fingers betrayed him. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, and he felt the chill of the room bite at his exposed skin before the heavy material of the shirt covered it again. The fabric was stiff and familiar, a cruel reminder of who he was and what he was supposed to represent. He swallowed hard, fighting the burn in his eyes as he reached for his boots.

“Shit, shit,” he muttered under his breath, the sound rough and broken. His throat felt tight, and it was a struggle to pull the laces taut, his fingers moving clumsily. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. Stella’s voice echoed in his mind, the raw pain in her words tearing through him. 'I need you here. Please, I need you right now.'

Vincent yanked the laces into place, tying them off with shaking hands. He shoved the rest of his clothes into the duffle with no regard for wrinkles, the soft fabric bunching up like discarded lies. His heart ached with the weight of what he was about to walk back into—what he was about to face—and he felt the sharp sting of regret threaten to split him in two. He could see Tony in his peripheral vision, silent and watching, and it sent a twist of shame spiraling through his gut.

Zipping up the duffle, he stood, chest heaving as he fought for composure. The sound of the zipper was harsh, cutting through the silence like a finality he wasn’t ready for. His mind was a tangled mess of apologies, of sorrow and guilt that churned inside him like a storm.

He took a step toward the door, the soft, worn carpet pressing against his heels, the fibers rough under the arch of his foot. He stopped, one hand braced against the frame, the other clutching the duffle strap so tight, his knuckles whitened. He could feel the warmth of Tony’s gaze on his back, and the duality of it—comfort and guilt—nearly knocked him off his feet.

The memory of the hickey on his neck flashed through his mind, stark and incriminating. He’d promised himself that if Stella ever noticed, he’d let it be the thing that broke him. That ended everything. But suddenly, the thought of ending anything felt distant, absurd. He wanted to see Tony again. He wanted… more. The realization hit him with a shiver, cold and thrilling all at once. His chest fluttered with the danger of it, the foolishness. Turning around, he met Tony’s eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. His hand brushed over the dark bruise on his neck, a bitter reminder of what he’d been willing to risk. His voice came out low, almost embarrassed.

“Tony… I need one more favor.” He hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the bruise. “Could you… leave me another one here?” He gestured next to the mark, the request awkward, heavy with implications. He felt exposed, raw in a way that had nothing to do with skin or intimacy. “I need it to look like a seatbelt rash. If I can make it look like something else, maybe she’ll…” he gulped, pulling his teeth hard over his bottom lip. “Maybe she’ll believe it,” he added, the words barely audible. He didn’t dare look away, waiting for a response, every second stretching into something infinite.

Tony had been called a lot of things in his life. Some good, some bad (okay, a lot of bad, but let’s not unpack that now). He’d received a lot of compliments about his physique as well. But never, ever, not once, had he ever had his cock compared to an anaconda.

He knew he was on the big side. That’s not something you get through puberty and young adulthood without finding out. One trip through the high school locker room showers after gym class was all it took for that knowledge to get out - though back in those days, that knowledge spread quietly, with plenty of jokes that ended with ‘no homo’ comments. El Paso’s public high school system in the late 90s wasn’t exactly welcoming. It was classmates’ sisters that were more interested in those rumors anyway… usually. One would think it was every horny teenager’s dream to realize he was special in a good way like that, but it took him several years to be not so self-conscious. Teenagers had a stupid malfunctioning brain like that, and just assumed you were a natural Cassanova if you were hung. Truth was, Tony really didn’t have any game until he was in his mid to late twenties.

Looking down at Vince, watching the man take him in with wide, hungry eyes, enjoying the way his whole body shuddered as he slid his hand through the other man’s hair, he couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time Vince was touched like this. When was the last time he got what he wanted, what he desired? Had he really never done this before? He couldn’t imagine making it this far in life without at least trying it once. Not that there was anything wrong or bad about fooling around with a woman, but he couldn’t imagine craving something for decades and just never acting on it. Judging by the way Vince stared at him, he knew for certain he was satisfying a craving that ran deep.

“Fuck, you look good with your lips on my cock.” Tony murmured, eyes transfixed upon Vince as the other man worked him over with his tongue. The sensation of being licked and kissed that way was a pleasantly tortuous one; it felt gentle and amazing enough to send a shiver up his spine and make his cock harden even more, but damn did it ever make that heat coil low in his body and fill his mind with images of thrusting that hot length of his body into someplace warm, wet, and waiting. As he squirmed under Vince’s lips, that was all he could think of - being inside Vince. First his mouth, then if he was lucky, elsewhere.

Vince’s comment about ’check it out’ had started a laugh bubbling up from his stomach. What an utterly ridiculous thing to say, in the grand scheme of things. Was he a frat boy about to drink the entire bottle in one go? Was he a goofy-ass teenager about to do a ’sick kick flip’ on his skateboard at the park? Was he about to set some shit on fire? It was unexpected, it was ridiculous, and it caught him so off-guard that when Vince finally went down on him and took him into his mouth, that chuckle turned into a moan and all coherent thought went out the window.

If the wet circle Vince tongued around the head of his cock was amazing, then this had to have been sublime. The tight, firm confines of Vince’s throat squeezed around him - and holy shit was he actually deepthroating him? The first blowjob, and despite just saying he needed some guidance, Vince was already throwing himself fully into it. Tony didn’t resist at all when Vince pulled his hand off his own cock, forced himself the rest of the way down, and only stopped when he was nose-to-body.

“Oh holy fucking—” Tony’s words melted into a senseless moan as he squirmed and arched his back, all coherent thought stopping in place. He had never, ever, been deepthroated like this before.

It wasn’t just one moan either - every inch seemed to draw another from him, voice low and getting more and more breathy and gravelly the closer Vince’s lips go to the base. By the time Vince had swallowed the whole thing, Tony was panting and moaning and cursing. Every other word was Vince’s name as he squirmed in his seat, one hand on the back of Vince’s head and tangled up in his hair, the other reaching behind him to hold on to the couch cushion for dear life.

Tony couldn’t figure out what to do with his legs - alternating between pressing one calf against Vince’s ass and tangling the other up with the other man’s legs to keep him close, then spreading his knees further apart as he writhed, he finally settled on wrapping them around Vince to keep him close. Closer was what he needed - he couldn’t push himself in any deeper as he had literally run out of dick, for the first time in his life - and now he was trying to find any way possible to physically achieve even more closeness. Legs wrapped around Vince, one hand in the other man’s hair, and once he let go of the couch cushion he reached down and held on to Vince’s forearm.

Squirming and writhing, he rocked his hips up to Vince, not that he had very far left to move, and let another pleasured shudder run through his body. He was holding onto Vince’s forearm so tightly he left faint indents and marks with his fingers. The grip on Vince’s hair was firm, approaching possibly painful, and he held Vince’s head down for several seconds - until he remembered suddenly that Vince would need to breathe. And, it isn’t possible to breathe when your throat is filled like this.

“Oh fuck, fuck, don’t stop, Vince.” Tony panted, more breath than words, as he tugged Vince’s head up and off his cock, hoping to give the other man enough relief so that he could take a breath. The last thing he needed was a cop passed out in his apartment, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the moment. All he could think of was more, and Vince.

Easing up his grip on Vince’s hair so he could gently stroke fingers through Vince’s hair instead of pulling him around, Tony opened his eyes halfway - when had he even closed them? He couldn’t remember - and stared down at Vince with more of that predatory hunger. “Good boy.” Pulling his hand off Vince’s hair, he trailed his fingers down Vince’s face and lightly across his cheeks. “Goddamn you look good like that. Keep going. Please.” The way Tony said 'please' was a mere breath and higher octave away from begging, but at the same time somehow sounded like an order.

This was a hookup he never wanted to end.

[pertinax--loculos]

There is a non-zero chance I'm gonna spend this upcoming uni class writing out the plotting and planning The Monstrosity.

Not only is it Far Too Early AM for my fucked-up sleeping patterns, but I'm also getting more and more convinced that this fucking course is not only ambivalent, but actively hostile towards mature-age students, and it's making me so mad.

[gophergal]

Life on the farm

[camelspit]

curious to know why you dislike juline?

tbh i had no opinion at all of her and then about a year ago there was a poll on which member of the collective was the best. and the tiergan lovers website let tiergan down. in favor of her. /hj

in seriousness, dislike was a bit strong. im still mostly neutral on her. she does sort of feel like just another sparkly girlboss in the series which. admittedly is a trope in kotlc thats started to piss me off a bit bc it seems like every adult woman falls into it.

juline is like. the final evolution of that sparkly girlbossery. she has no real relationship damage for more than 2 minutes after revealing shes been lying to her family for years and was part of the organization that grady thought killed his daughter.

in general! it doesnt seem like she ever faces any consequences for lying to her family or pushing them to the side a bit in favor of the black swan.

idk maybe there were problems (specifically with dex) and we never saw them bc theyre not sophies problem but. whatever.

also what is her "official job." was she passing off as a stay at home mom? does she work in the nobility? idk

[arolesbianism]

Why must I only be capable of coming up with cool art ideas long past midnight

[littlelamy]

first kiss with rafe

rafe cameron wasn’t used to waiting. patience wasn’t exactly his strong suit, not when he was used to getting what he wanted with little resistance. but when it came to you, something shifted. you weren’t like the others, and he knew from the start that rushing things with you would ruin it.

he’d learned that the hard way—with sofia. things with her were fast, messy, and over before he could even process it. he didn’t want that with you. he couldn’t have that with you.

so, he contained himself. he kept his hands to himself when all he wanted to do was pull you close, press his lips to yours, and let you know exactly how badly he wanted you. instead, he played the long game, holding himself back even when it drove him fucking crazy.

and it was driving him crazy.

you weren’t making it any easier, either. the way your smile lingered a little too long when you looked at him, the way you brushed against him “accidentally” when you walked by, the way your lips parted just slightly when you caught him staring—it all had him hanging by a thread. but rafe was determined to do this right, no matter how much restraint it took.

tonight was no different. the two of you were sitting on the balcony of tannyhill, the sound of waves crashing in the distance as the summer air wrapped around you like a blanket. rafe had invited you over under the pretense of “just hanging out,” but the tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“you’re quiet tonight,” you said softly, turning to look at him. the moonlight hit your face just right, making you look almost ethereal.

rafe glanced at you, his jaw ticking slightly as he tried to figure out how to respond without spilling his guts. “just... thinkin’, i guess,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

you tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through his bullshit. “about what?”

he hesitated. lying wasn’t an option, not with you. “you,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. the tension was unbearable, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “what about me?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

rafe looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in his eyes made your stomach flip. “about how much i want to kiss you,” he said, his tone raw and unfiltered. “but i—shit. i don’t want to fuck this up. not with you.”

your cheeks flushed, and your heart felt like it might burst. “rafe...”

“no, listen,” he cut in, his voice a little louder now. “you’re not like the others. you’re not—fuck, you’re not sofia. and i don’t want to rush this and ruin everything. you’re... you’re different. you mean more to me.”

his words hung in the air, heavy and sincere, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. you’d been waiting for this moment, hoping for it, and now that it was here, it felt almost surreal.

“rafe,” you said again, reaching out to touch his hand. he stiffened slightly under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. “i want this too. i want you.”

his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, but all he saw was the same longing he’d been carrying for weeks. months, even. “you sure?” he asked, his voice rough and strained.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i’m sure.”

that was all he needed.

slowly, like he was afraid of breaking you, rafe leaned in. his hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his lips hovered just inches from yours. “tell me to stop,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“don’t you dare,” you whispered back, your voice shaky but certain.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn’t rushed or frantic like you’d expected. it was soft, deliberate, and everything you’d ever dreamed it would be. his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his other hand finding its place on your waist and pulling you closer.

you melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. he groaned softly against your lips, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

“fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “you’re gonna be the death of me, princess.”

you laughed softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “you’ve been holding out on me, cameron.”

he smirked, his confidence finally breaking through the restraint he’d been holding onto for so long. “could say the same about you,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re mine,” he said without hesitation, his lips finding yours again.

this time, the kiss was hungrier, needier, like weeks of pent-up tension finally breaking free. his hands roamed your sides, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“rafe,” you murmured against his lips, your voice breathless and desperate.

“yeah, baby?” he replied, his tone rough but soft, his lips trailing down to your jawline.

“don’t stop,” you said, your hands pulling him closer as if that were even possible.

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “wasn’t planning on it.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I've watched the scene where Sarah is starving and Rafe is pacing around and knowing he has cash in his pocket and doesn't care that his sister is starving and pregnant. I can't help but imagine it if it was reader, and they hooked up once twice or however you see fit, and she's pregnant with his baby.

Would it be any different? Could you write something about that? Take the idea and run with it because im bad at articulating 🤣

Oh yeah, Rafe is a class-A asshole, but he might show just a little remorse if the baby is his.

Love the requests, keep sending em' in!!

The Moroccan sun was beating down on the group relentlessly, sweating you out and drying you up with the shine of its bright light. The only reason your sweat wasn't dripping off you was because it was quickly soaked up into the modest fabrics around your head.

You'd been travelling tirelessly for the last few days, dangerously too, if you might add. The boat nearly capsized multiple times just trying to make it to Morocco. As if the boat ride wasn't abhorrent enough with your seasickness....and morning sickness...

The constant smell of saltwater and the rocking of the ship had amplified the awful experience and you would spend the first hour in the bathroom regurgitating your insides every morning. It was not fun.

None of the pogues know you're pregnant. Although, Cleo was on to you. One pregnancy was more than enough for the group to worry about. You figured this was something you'd keep to yourself despite the fact the father is currently trekking with you through the hot sands.

The day was only getting hotter. You're thirsty, your lungs hurt and it felt like your own organs were weighing you down. You naturally began to fall behind the group, little by little until the gap was hard to ignore.

"Come on, Y/n. We're not far from the city, just a few more miles." Pope encouraged but it triggered a laboured breath. You're exhausted. A small smile crept on your lips when you noticed John B holding Sarah's hand the whole time, never letting her out of his sight.

For what feels like the eighth time, Rafe looks over his shoulder, more annoyed than ever. "Jeez, would you hurry it up?" You scoff, mustering up enough energy to kick up some sand at his legs. "Nice. Real mature, Y/n." His sarcasm rolls off his tongue and you ignore him as you walk past him.

Once you finally made it into the city, you all needed something to eat. Sarah wasn't feeling so great and neither were you. Babies are nothing but greedy entities consuming all the nutrients you need.

You leaned against the cool rock wall, watching the others run off to help themselves to a five-finger discount. With your eyes closed, you tried to distract yourself from the ache in your abdomen. Not sure if it was the baby or your hunger, possibly a mix of both.

Without even realizing it, you let a hand rest lightly over your stomach. It was still early, you weren't showing and you thank god.

"We're wasting time!" You hear Rafe yell, it doesn't even faze you. He's somewhere near you when he mumbles to himself, "Sitting around on the streets when we should be going after Groff, unbelievable."

What was supposed to be a quick glance your way turns into an elongated stare. His eyes raked over your posture, your shut eyes, brows crunched in distress. He slowly looks down at the placement of your hand.

"Y/n." He says, tugging you into a corner out of sight from the others and you swat him. He shockingly accepts the reprimands and backs off, taking a step back. "What do you want, Rafe?" Your arms cross, waiting for him to say something.

"Is it mine?" Your arms fall slowly, caught, but you deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about." Hardly able to take two steps away before he's barricading you in the corner with his body.

"Don't bullshit me, Y/n. The baby. Is it mine?" You chew on your lower lip, avoiding his chilling gaze. Apparently, that was enough confirmation. "How long have you known?" He takes on a defensive stance.

How the hell were you supposed to know the answer to that? The last week alone has blurred together in memories of rough waters and dry deserts.

All you knew was it happened sometime between the various times you and Rafe swore it would be the last time you fooled around. Unsure if it was the time on his yacht, in the back of his truck or one of the dozen times you somehow ended up in his bed when you swore you were only in figure eight for a 'walk'.

The group had no idea the two of you had been involved with each other aside from the occasionally tense argument, but anyone could admit the two of you can't seem to stay away from one another.

"I dunno, a month maybe?" He pressed both hands to his forehead, fingers spread wide, and slowly dragged them down, smearing the tension all the way to his chin.

"Let's go." His grip on your hand forces you to follow his long strides between the bustling kiosks until you land inside a Delhi. You're too stuck inside your own mind to process what was happening until you watched Rafe lift the bottom of his shirt, revealing a fanny pack with a considerable amount of money.

"Of course. Of course, you had money this whole time! Of course, you let the others go stealing--!" He hushes you as the owner flashes you a look of concern, "Listen, I'm not the one who told those pogues to go looting. I've got money for more important shit than their sad jewel hunt." He explains, paying for the items with a small nod of gratitude towards the man.

Turning to you, he placed a sandwich in one hand, and a cool bottle of water in the other. "This," He starts, his palm gently resting against your stomach. For the first time in a long time, his brows relax and his gaze softens when he looks at you. "This is more important."

[hoshifighting]

NERD!WOOZI WITH SLUTTY FINGERING

a/n: i KNOW ive talked about woozi hands, woozi fingering, too much already in this blog, so, nerd!woozi its just another excuse for me to write about it again. sorry not sorry. a/n pt.2: yes, this is woozi's hand on minghao's neck that's why im screaming in the title. WARNINGS: smut, small angst, fingering, body fluids (cum spit), clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, intense orgasm, teasing, quick learner!jihoon

nerd!jihoon who’s all serene and timid, always too focused on his notes, pretending he doesn’t notice your little games, but deep down, he’s fully aware. you catch him sometimes, the way his pencil pauses mid-scribble when you lean a little too close, asking for the same damn pencil again. he knows you have like five pencils in that full-of-charms bag of yours, regardless here you are.

“you sure you don’t just wanna keep it?” he mumbles, barely looking up as he hands you the pencil.

you lean forward, letting your hair fall in front of your face like a curtain, just to see if he’d peek. and, of course, he does. a quick flick of his eyes, then back down to his notebook, scribbling some bullshit about physics or whatever. boring. you wonder what’d happen if you just grabbed his hand for real this time, full contact, no pencil-between-you nonsense. would he pull away? would he get all flustered, or would he grab you back, finally drop that innocent act?

“you ever gonna look at me when i ask you for something, or you too shy for that?” you tease, leaning on his desk now, your fingers inching closer to his ruler. he finally looks up at you, a little more serious than usual, and it catches you off guard.

“you keep asking for things you don’t need,” he says quietly, “why?” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose like that’s gonna hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “you can keep the damn pencil,” he mutters, eyes glued to the textbook in front of him.

and nerd!jihoon who gets so in his head about it that he doesn’t realize the moment he fucked up. ‘cause when you stand up from your chair, reaching down to grab something you “accidentally” dropped, you do it slow. bending over right in front of him, just enough that your skirt rides up a little too high, giving him a full view.

he stares for just a second too long, eyes glued to the hem of your skirt, swallowing hard like he’s trying not to make a sound. but it’s obvious, way too obvious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his face turns red so fast you almost laugh out loud.

nerd!jihoon who's fidgeting now, trying to pretend he didn’t just eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom.

but nerd!jihoon’s only got so much self-control, and you’re testing every bit of it.

nerd!jihoon who, for some reason, snaps at you that morning when you meet at the stairs outside the university building. it’s out of nowhere too—like, one second, you’re just giving him that casual little smile, ready to toss some flirty comment about the weather being as cold as his attitude, and the next, he’s all huffy, eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual.

“why do you keep doing that?” his voice comes out sharp, way too sharp for someone like him, the type who rarely even speaks above a whisper in class. you blink, taken aback, half-wondering if he’s joking, but when you see his jaw tighten, you realize he’s serious. dead serious. “is it that hard to leave me alone?”

ouch. you don’t even know how to react at first, like his words take a second to settle in, but when they do, it feels like someone knocked the air out of you. your eyes harden on him, and for once, you don’t have some quick retort. you just… stare. really?—he’s just gonna blow up like that?

“fine,” you mutter, voice cold as ice. and with that, you turn on your heel and walk off without another word, you don’t even look back as you head straight to the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you’ve never felt this weird compound of pissed and hurt before. it’s like something just snapped inside you too.

for the rest of the day, you don’t bother glancing in his direction. you gather your stuff at the end of class, all in silence, and when you make your way past his desk, you stop for just a second, pulling out all those borrowed pencils from your bag. without a word, you set them on his desk, one by one. they clatter onto his notes, each one feeling like a small “fuck you” in its own way.

jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pencils like they’re mocking him. he opens his mouth for a split second, like maybe he’s gonna explain, but nothing comes out. you don’t give him the chance either; you walk away, not bothering to look back. it’s like every interaction you’ve ever had just gets replayed in your mind, and now it’s all soured.

the next few days are weird. hell, you stop talking to him altogether. instead, you sit at your desk, quietly pulling out your own damn pencils from your pencil case, you don’t need his anymore, not when he’s gonna act like a complete ass about it. he watches you though—you can feel his stare on you, burning into the side of your head. but every time you glance in his direction, he looks away like he can’t deal with the awkwardness he’s caused.

it’s like he wants to apologize but has no idea how to start. typical jihoon—all brain and no clue when it comes to real people.

but one evening, there’s a knock on your dorm door. you open it, and there he is, standing there with a six-pack of those canned drinks you always get from the campus canteen, the same ones you always grab right after class. his face is red, cheeks flushed in a way that’s almost… cute? but you’re still mad, still remembering how he snapped at you like that.

“hey,” he says, and his voice is softer this time, merely audible. you just stand there, arms crossed, waiting for him to explain himself.

“i, uh… i brought these,” he mutters, holding the cans out like some awkward peace offering. “i noticed you… always get these. thought maybe…” his voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “i’m sorry. for what i said.”

you raise an eyebrow, still not convinced. “really? you were a complete jerk, jihoon.”

he shrinks at your words, nodding. “i know. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? it… messed with me.”

you uncross your arms, softening just a bit. “and snapping at me was your way of handling it?”

he sighs, looking down at his shoes. “i didn’t mean it. i was just frustrated. not at you—just… at myself.”

you take a deep breath, glancing at the cans in his hands, the little effort he’s put into making amends. he’s trying. “fine,” you say finally, stepping aside to let him in. “you owe me more than just drinks, though.”

jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, his lips twitching into that familiar nervous smile. “what do you want, then?”

you scoff.

nerd!jihoon who feels the faint taste of the drink lingers on your tongue, and he groans into your mouth, probably addicted to it more than he’ll admit. he’s kissing you back—messy, needy, and a little clumsy, but you can tell he’s losing himself in it.

you shift on his lap, straddling him properly, and when you press into him, his breath hitches. it’s like he can’t keep himself together, every kiss pulling out little sounds, his hands hover awkwardly for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, until you grab them and guide them up your body, pushing them to your chest, making him squeeze your tits through your shirt.

nerd!jihoon who gasps when he feels the nipples on his palms through your shirt, his lips pulling away from yours for just a second as he looks at where his hands are, eyes wide like he can’t believe it. his fingers flex against you, tentatively at first, but then you press your hand over his, forcing him to squeeze harder, and you let out a shaky breath.

then? oh, he gets it.

nerd!jihoon, who finally acts, squeezing your tits by himself like he’s been waiting for this chance his whole damn life. his fingers dig in just enough to pull a moan from your throat.

nerd!jihoon’s catching on fast now, realizing where you want to be touched, where your breath catches, where your body melts into him.

his hands roam up your sides, slipping under your oversized shirt, and when his fingers brush your bare skin, he freezes for a second. he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, no panties, no bra, just naked under the thin fabric. “shit,” he breathes, almost like a curse, his eyes darting up to meet yours, like he’s checking to see if this is real, if you actually want him to keep going.

you smirk, biting your lip, and press your hips down into him harder, a wordless yes, keep going.

his hand cups your pussy, and the way you immediately arch into him, gasping out his name—he’s gone. brain short-circuiting, but his body’s on autopilot now. “dont do this to me…” he mewls, too focused on the way you’re grinding into his hand, wet and ready for him.

nerd!jihoon who, once he realizes how horny you are, loses any hesitation he had before. his fingers, slender and surprisingly strong, waste no time. he’s focused—so damn focused—like he’s solving a problem in his mind, but this time, the problem is you. and he knows exactly how to handle it.

nerd!jihoon who pauses for just a second, like he’s still processing how turned on you are—how his touch alone got you dripping like this. his middle finger presses right against your clit, and he flicks it side to side—fast as hell, like too fast—and your hips jerk up into him, a soft whimper slipping out. his middle finger dips into your pussy first, just enough to feel the wetness gather on his fingertip, the way you swallow around him makes his breath hitch.

it’s like he’s testing what gets you going, what makes your thighs tremble, and god, does he know how to read your body. every gasp, every time your breath hitches, he switches it up—keeps you on edge.

he presses his middle finger deep suddenly, really deep, until you’re arching into him, your body reacting instantly to the way he knows how to hit that spot. his finger curls inside you, pushing hard, making you gasp like he’s punching the air from your lungs. he’s watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips move, like he’s trying to memorize how to make you react like this again.

"hold still," he mutters, and when you don’t, when you try to squirm because it’s too much too fast, he forces your legs open with his, his thighs pressing yours apart. “don’t... close them. i need to—” his breath catches when he adds a second finger, stretching you just enough to make your pussy clench tight around him, making your thighs shake. he presses them deep, so deep you feel the pressure low in your belly, but it’s when he starts to pull them out, flicking them up against your clit as he does it, that you lose it.

“oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching, and jihoon’s watching you so damn closely, taking mental notes on every single reaction you give him.

“so... wet. why? hm?” he whispers, like he can’t believe it, his voice shy but breathy, like he’s talking more to himself than you. his fingers slide out, slick with your cum, and without even thinking, he spits right on them—mixing the spit with the dripping wetness already covering his fingers. the sound is obscene, the slick noise of him fingering you only getting louder, wetter, messier.

and then, he adjusts.

“c’mere,” he says, voice a little rougher now, guiding you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. you can feel how hard his cock is, twitching against your ass as you settle between his thighs. his legs spread yours open, holding you wide as he slides his hand back down to your dripping pussy, his fingers diving back in like they belong there.

he uses his middle finger again—always that one—sliding it in deep, he’s too focused on you, too addicted to the way you moan when he pushes his fingers deeper. his legs wrap around yours, holding them wide open, ‘cause you’re so damn close to squeezing them shut. his voice comes out soft, right in your ear. “you’re so—fuck, so into this. just my fingers?”

he can’t believe it, can’t wrap his head around how crazy you’re going just from this—even though he’s making you drip all over his hand. but it only impulses him on. his fingers flick against your clit again, fast, precise, like he’s playing an instrument he’s mastered. your body jerks, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, cum practically coating his fingers now. he slides them deep again, harder this time, pushing you into the bed so hard your hips are practically pinned down.

“you like that?” he asks, voice shaky, but he’s so into it. holding you open like he’s afraid you’ll try to close your legs.

his fingers are everywhere—inside you, rubbing, pressing, flicking.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan, words tumbling out of you like you can’t control them, and his breath catches again. his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room as he alternates between pressing deep inside you and flicking your clit, over and over again, until you’re a complete mess in his arms.

“you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me say something stupid,” you gasp out, barely holding onto any coherent thought, and he lets out a soft, shy laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean.

nerd!jihoon who's lost in the rhythm he’s created, only pushes harder, fingers still dancing between your thighs as he chases that sound—that sweet, desperate gasp that makes his heart race. “i think i can handle it,” he teases, but he’s definitely not prepared for the way you arch your back, pushing harder against him as your breath gets quicker, sharper.

“jihoon, please,” you whimper, the words spilling out like they’re a prayer. your body is begging for something—anything—more, but he’s holding you right at the edge, fingers moving so fast you’re pretty sure your brain is short-circuiting.

he seems to realize just how close you are. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “can you—can you come for me? just from this?” there’s a softness in his voice, but the way he asks it is so demanding, and you can’t help but nod.

“yes—yes!” you manage to breathe out, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“just let go. i got you.” it’s like the words unlock something inside you, and before you even realize it, that sweet ache intensifying.

nerd!jihoon who lets out a soft chuckle, shaky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t sound proud. his fingers don’t slow down though. his middle finger presses even deeper, practically curling up into the g'spot inside you that makes you pass out for a second, and you gasp so loud you’re sure anyone passing by your dorm would hear it.

“jihoon—fuck, right there!” you groan, and he hones in on that spot like he’s taking thoughtful reminders.

he bites his lip, watching the way your hips roll into his hand, how wet you are, cum dripping down his fingers like he’s proud of the mess you’re making. “i didn’t know you’d be… this into it,” he whispers, and that just makes your head spin more.

this guy. so shy but so fucking good at what he’s doing to you.

“jihoon, i’m gonna—oh my god!” you try to warn him, but he cuts you off.

“i know, just let go,” he encourages, voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he’s treating this moment like something sacred. his fingers slide back up to your clit

this is it. his eyes widen a little, and you can feel the way his heart races against your back. every flick against your clit sends a convulsion through your body.

you dissolve into a broken gasp, your hips moving against his hand instinctively as he works you toward that peak. please, please, just let me come.

and when he adds just a little more pressure, it’s like your whole body torches. you cum and cum, your body arching against him. “jihoon, fuck!” you cry out, a high-pitched gasp that fills the air as you feel everything shatter, your body clenching tightly around his fingers that they almost slip out.

nerd!jihoon who watches you, completely captivated, the way your body reacts, the way you’re lost in it. he doesn’t stop, though; no, he keeps moving, fingers working through your orgasm, gentle however persistent, making sure you feel every bit of that pleasure. he’s fascinated, eyes wide as he takes in the globs of cum covering his fingers, the slickness that only grows thicker the more he works you.

“jihoon, wait…” you manage to murmur, half-laughing, half-breathless. “s-sensitive.”

you melt on his chest, catching your breath, as his hand cups your pussy again, letting 'you' rest.

“that was—how do you even know how to do that?” it’s a genuine question, and you can’t help but admire him, the way he’s panting lightly, his cheeks flushed.

he chuckles nervously, looking away for a moment, then back at you shyly. “i mean… i just pay attention? it’s like… figuring out the math of it all, but way more fun.” his eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at how nerdy he is, even in these moments.

“well, you know what they say about nerds,” you wink, reaching out to play with the ends of his shirt. “they can be really good at—”

“okay, stop,” he laughs, cutting you off.

“so, um… can i, like, do that again sometime?” he asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hopeful, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter.

“absolutely,” you say with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck, your bodies still tangled together.

“how about we switch positions next time? i think i could make you scream even louder.” he teases, but his red cheeks don't lie.

you freeze at his words, heart racing as you process what he just said. he’s learned way too quickly, “which one are you talking about?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, even though your cheeks are flushed too.

“any one you want,” he replies, a in a shyly-confident smirk on his face. “i’m a quick study when it comes to this kind of stuff.” he smiles wider. “just tell me what you like, and i’ll make sure i learn it.”

you can’t help but laugh. “oh, is that so? you think you can handle it?”

“absolutely,” he says, hugging your body to him. “just say the word, and i’ll show you just how good i can get.”

[blckbrrybasket]

Rafe with reader who stays away from hard drugs

People snorting cocaine at these parties always shocked you. It wasn’t so much that it was a hard drug, but more so the money that went into it. No drug was cheap that was for sure. Cocaine, though, was the drug for rich kids.

Being a pogue, you hadn’t tried it. You had no desire to. You saw what hard drugs did to your mom. Unlike coke, basically anyone with a spare room and a strong will could make meth out on the cut. At least your mom could. You didn’t mind seeing people do drugs, but you always held yourself back.

Rafe noticed it pretty easily. His first assumption was the price which is why he slyly told you one night that you could get a bump for free for being his. You still didn’t budge, politely declining and making an excuse. After some time Rafe dropped the subject becoming a bit more aware to your aversion to it.

Most people didn’t give a shit until Topper made a big deal about it.

“Yo..aren’t you gonna have any?” He sent you a inebriated smile and you resisted scrunching your nose up at him. “Nah, I’m good.” Rafe slid an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Leave them alone Top, it’s good.” Topper rolled his eyes at Rafe’s automatically stern tone. “I was just asking, shit. If they want to be a pussy they can. Not my business.”

Topper shrugged with a smirk and turned back to the line in front of him. Your stomach dropped at the comment, Rafe’s eyes narrowing. “Yo, what the fuck?” “What, bro?” Topper shot back. The few seconds of their argument gave you enough time to leave Rafe’s lap and storm towards the door.

It was obvious that Rafe was following you. You acted like you couldn’t hear his voice calling after you in the crowd. His long legs made it easy for him to catch up to you though, hand sliding around your elbow to pull you towards him. “Babe.”

“It’s fine.” You started, already trying to cover up what happened. “No. No, it’s not. What’s going on? Talk to me.” Rafe was worried. His eyes were wide with unspoken fear that you’d be mad at him.

“It’s stupid.” You crossed your arms over your chest. Rafe shook his head, “Nothing bothering you is stupid. Please, talk to me.” Sighing, you dropped your arms and grabbed his hand to pull him outside.

He understood the need for privacy, but was surprised nonetheless. Finally after a minute the two of you stopped by the side of the yard, far enough away from prying eyes. At your groan Rafe’s eyebrows rose, unsure what to do.

You covered your face, sighing into your hands. “When you…” Your words were quiet and unsure before you started again. “When you do drugs, it’s fine. I mean…it isn’t for your body, but it’s fun. Every kook our age does drugs, but when my mom does it, it makes her a methhead.”

“The assumption isn’t wrong, but it’s different for us on the cut. The drugs our parents did ruined us.” Rafe’s eyes revealed his realization. You had never mentioned it, but he had never asked. He should have asked. He felt like such an asshole.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. Your eyes snapped up to him. Rafe rarely apologizes without being told the problem, but now it wasn’t his fault. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “No, I did. I put you in that situation. I put you around drugs…fuck.”

The way you looked at the coke he did made sense now, like you had a personal vendetta against the powder. How many times had you been uncomfortable while he dealed with you on his lap? “I’m sorry.” He reaffirmed, hands cupping your face. “I don’t care what bullshit you say, I put you in that..and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” was all you could think to whisper back to him. “It’s okay.” This time it was firmer, Rafe’s earlier expression of ease slowly making its way back onto his face. “Now let’s get out of here.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief. Rafe shrugged, arms scooping you up to swing you over his shoulder, “Parties’ boring anyways.” You laughed, clutching onto his shoulders. “By the way, don’t hurt Topper too much.”

Rafe chuckled knowing you knew him too well. “Don’t know what you mean,” he lied.

[jammiesjars]

MDNI

Warnings: Accusation of Infedelity, heavily unedited writing (wrote this in a power outage in my notes app xx), fingering, eating pussy, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint REALLY hard.

One message is all it took for you to spiral.

Outrage was an understatement. A month, a single month, into Price’s deployment you had recieved a message from an unknown number. They insisted of Price having an affair with his so-called ‘receptionist.’ Being his wife, you didnt believe it. You and John had been married for years now. He wasnt that kind of man! (You hoped.)

Weeks passed and wheels start turning. Seeds of doubt had started digging into you. The late nights he had stayed at base before his deployment, only sending as much as a quick text of ‘Be home late. Dont wait up.’ Or the necessary secrecy between what happens at his job or deployment were starting to plant ideas in your head you wouldnt have ever had if not for that message. Youre being worn down, and its killing you. Its not like you could ask him; being thousands of kilometres away without any time to do as much as glance at his phone.

So the emotional resentment grew. You find yourself wondering how he could do this to you, crying in your empty home that housed the both of you not long ago. Before you even come to terms with it, Youve packed your bags and lawyered up, letting your resentment fester for far to long without any outside input.

On the third month of Prices deployment, you drive yourself up to base with one intention; leave the divorce papers on his desk to find when he comes back and to leave without confrontation.

Security on base knows you as ‘Price’s missus’ by now, offering a small wave and a smile as you walk by and into your husbands office. You put the papers on his desk, that frustration and hurt bubbling up all over again. He has your wedding photo framed on his desk and it only hurts more. What did you do to deserve this?

You turn to go, heading back towards his door when you hear muffled laughter and the sounds of gear being unzipped and dumped from down the hallway. Theyre back. You pick up the pace, praying you can slip out before he gets close enough to notice. You reach for the door handle, but the door opens before you can even grasp it.

Shit.

And there he is, your eyes drinking in the sight of the awfully more rugged version of your husband; beard outgrown and messy with tired eyes that light up at the sight of you.

That light dies as soon as sees just how mad you look.

“So youre telling me, one message is all it took to lose all fucking faith?” Price practically growls, fingers rubbing at his temples. Hes sat in his chair with you on the other side of his desk, just as furious. “Everything makes sense! The staying late at base, the short messages and lack of updates when your deployed!” You hiss, frustration bubbling over making anything small seem huge.

Price takes a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm his temper. “The shit I deal with doesnt sleep. Theres reasons i stay back that you will never know, love. The law itself, wont let me tell you. Same goes for messages. Im sorry i dont have the time to let you know im okay when im deployed, god knows i wish I did.” He scowls, his gaze so heated and intense that you almost look away despite your own fury.

“And what about this receptionist huh?”

Your tone has changed, soft and shaky. vunerable.

Price’s expression softens, but he doesnt say a word, simply rounding his desk to pluck you out of your own chair and putting you down in his office chair. He sinks to his knees in front of you, hands rested on your thighs. Blue eyes peer up at you, sickeningly sincere. “Love, I dont interact with her unless necessary. This isnt some romance movie bullshit.” Your heart is working overtime, lips parted as guilt bubbles. “You- you understand where my doubt is coming from, though…right? Everything lined up perfectly, and-“

Price simply tuts. “We’ve talked about that pretty little head of yours overthinking too much, havent we?” You freeze, throat drying. You nod. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes-“ you croak. “We have.”

Price grunts in approval, his hands now running up and down your thighs.

“Have you been feeling neglected, hm? Is that it? My sweet wife needs some attention?” Price rumbles, his large, calloused hands that have been marked by countless battles now playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You’ve got my attention now, luvie. No need to play these stupid games with me.”

Your mind is already growing hazy; your husbands words making you almost want to forget about this whole incident. A finger hooks onto the waistband of your panties, bringing you back to the moment.

“Stupid games? John i was prepared to divorce you-“ he shushes you, dragging your underwear down your thighs, then your calves and over your shoes before slipping them into his pocket. A cheeky smile graces his face. stupid muttonchops.

“Must’ve left you alone for far too long then, if you were willing to take it this far.”

He slings your legs over his impossibly large shoulders, making you squeak as your pulled forward on the chair.

“Wouldve come home and fucked those stupid thoughts straight out of your head if i had known you were having doubts about my loyalty, sweetheart.”

He presses a messy kiss to your clit, making you gasp. He grumbles something incoherent (“Me? Cheat? Silly girl.”), before licking a long stripe up your neglected cunt, causing your hips to buck. The taste of you after going months without has price groaning into your heat. He eats like a man starved, a mix of desire to prove his loyalty and that he finally gets to taste his wife after being away for so long.

Hes fuming, really. Toward you? No.

Towards whatever stupid bastard sent you that message. He’s glad you didnt notice him slip your phone in his pocket, because he knew you’d be against him hunting the fucker down. You just need a distraction to keep that pretty little head thinking too hard. And he’ll give you just that.

“Oh, my poor sweet wife…” He grunts, before sucking on your clit with a renewed fevor. He pulls off with a lewd pop, two thick fingers replacing his previous ministrations. You’re squirming in his office chair, mind hazy and hips bucking.

“Thinkin’ I was out here cheating on ya’… you know better, love.” He tuts.

His fingers curl so nicely into that spongey spot that makes you see stars. “M sorry-“ you’d slur, “I didnt believe it when I first saw the message I promise-“ you gasp as price presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing in small tight circles.

“Lovie, you stormed in here with divorce papers. Dont tell me you didn’t believe it.”

Your head tilts back as you pant, small gasps slipping past your lips.

“There we go.” Price coaxes, his fingers picking up their pace.

“Wouldnt even cross my mind to look at another woman when my gorgeous girl looks like that as I stuff her cunt full of my fingers.” He coos, watching your face intently as your release crashes down; intense enough to make you writhe and moan.

Price pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean before getting up off his knees. Your throat runs dry, bracing for whats to come even as you grapple your bearings. You’re mentally preparing for Price to be dissapointed, upset with you, maybe even mad.

He analyzes your expression, leaning back against his desk. His eyes scrape over your small form sat in his chair.

“Im not upset, love. That pretty little head of yours had months to overthink that message without a voice of reason.”

Price tilts your chin up.

“Lets just not have to do this again, hm? Then i’ll be mad.”

Its sounds like a threat, but it isnt. Price knows he’ll always be there to talk his beloved wife down from the edge.

[milla-frenchy]

Out of the QZ

1k5 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you act like a brat with Joel. He puts you in place Warnings: 18+ mdni. spanking, fingering, size kink, degradation, oral (m), ball sucking, rough sex, piv. No age specified

a/n:  Fic inspired by this post (I was supposed to work on my wips, damn) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶 @arcanefox207 for the famous gif 😍❤️ and @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“I'm fuckin’ sick of your damn mood. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Yeah? Well stop talking to me. Do what you usually do, grumble. It'll be better for everyone,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Joel looked at you, nostrils flaring. You had been getting on his nerves since this morning. He had looked at you questioningly at first, not used to those mood swings from you. He gave you some space, but as the day progressed it had been harder for him to keep his cool. In the afternoon, his patience was melting like snow in the sun, and several warning glances from him didn’t change it. You kept huffing every time he opened his mouth. 

You were finally approaching the place where you were going to spend the night, before reaching Lincoln the next day. Backpacks filled with aluminum spools for Bill's fence, and medicine for Frank. It was the first time you left the QZ in months and Joel was nervous. And you... you were in an inexplicably bad mood. And now his anger was rising fully.

“Go check behind the house. I'll check the side.”

“Can't you just do it yourself, mister I-do-everything-better-than-everyone-else?”

“Now that’s enough!” he growled, grabbing your wrist sharply and pulling you into the small house.

“Sit,” he said, after he slammed the door behind you, hands on his hips and a dark look on his face.

“I'm not a damn dog, Joel. Who do you think you are?”

He grabbed your arm and before you realized it he sat on the bed, and lay you over his lap.

“I'm tired of your bullshit,” he said, before crushing his hand on your pants-covered ass.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you whined. He had spanked you hard, hand flat, and it hurt like hell. You couldn't believe it.

“You're done?” he asked, jaw clenched.

You still couldn't help yourself, couldn’t stop. Now really pissed off at being held like that, and punished.

“That's all you got, Miller?”

His forearm pressed against your back just before he spanked you a second time, making you cry out this time.

“Shut up. We didn't check the perimeter because of your fuckin’ attitude,” he barked while holding you on his knees.

“Oh, that’s great, Joel. Use your strength if that’s the only way you know how to deal with me.”

“You're actin’ like a brat, I treat you like one, that's what I'm doin’. You're done?”

“Fuck… you….” you answered as calmly as you were able to.

His hand landed a third time, in the exact same spot.

“Fuck,” you gasped, unable to stop your thighs from squeezing against each together.

“What the… you’re turned on?!”

“No!! No, of course not!”

He spanked you again and this time you couldn’t hold back a moan from escaping your lips. When you felt his cock pressing against you, you stopped breathing for a second.

“Joel…,” you didn’t know if you were still pissed or aroused. Probably both.

You didn't even know what was going on with you. Your bad mood had been consuming you all day, without any reason. You were just pissed and couldn’t keep it to yourself. 

And nothing had ever happened between Joel and you so far. You trusted each other when you were out of the QZ, you saw each other more or less regularly inside its walls, but nothing more.

When he pulled your pants down your thighs, you stopped moving, totally disconcerted by his gesture.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Told you to shut up,” he said in a low voice, his hand caressing your burning ass. You tried to pull away, without much conviction. His fist was tight on your jacket, holding you in place.

You stopped struggling when he reached your pussy and glided his hand along your folds.

“We shouldn’t…”

“You’ve been on my nerves all day, now shut the fuck up.”

His middle finger slid between your drooling folds. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. That’s what was itching you all day? You needed to be spanked like the damn brat that you’ve been?”

“I… I just…” your words got stuck in your throat as he started to finger fuck you, before quickly adding a second one. His cock was pressing against you, and it seemed fucking big.

“Shit, you’re drippin’.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” you whined, when he brushed your clit. Way too perfectly. As if the apocalypse had never dampened his ease at fingering a cunt. And maybe it never had. Maybe he fucked every month or every week or more in the QZ, what did you know about it, anyway?

He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered.

“You really thought I’d let you come?” he scoffed. “Now you’re gonna do as I say and kneel. Got it?” he asked, brows furrowed, after getting up. You fell on your knees, your pants still at mid-thighs.

“You’re gonna suck my cock,” he said, undoing his belt then unzipping, “at least I won’t hear you grawl or whine, for some time.”

He pulled his cock out and having felt it against you earlier didn’t make you less surprised. It was massive, with a reddish tip, twitching and flowing with precum.

“Yeah, I know, it’s big. Now suck it.”

His cock in one hand, he placed the other on the back of your neck, forcing you closer. You rounded your lips as best you could, taking his tip in your mouth. The precum invaded your throat, flowing slowly. You sucked his tip, trying to get used to its width. You didn't have much choice, with his hands holding you like a fuck doll. He didn't try to push himself further, but he was holding you in place. 

“Much better for my nerves when your mouth’s full.”

You felt his gaze lowered towards you and you looked up. His jaw was clenched, tense. He raised his eyebrows as if to say that you shouldn’t have messed with him.

You kept sucking him until he pulled back and took his massive balls in his hand. “Suck,” he growled. “They’ve been tense all day, because of your attitude.”

Tongue flat, you licked each of them, sucking their delicate skin, covered in some slightly gray hairs, mixed with your saliva that had flowed down his shaft when you blew him off.

“That’s it, actin’ like a good girl now, finally…” He was jerking off slowly, his impressive length just above your nose.

“I should paint your face, but I wanna feel that greedy cunt around me. Get on the bed, undressed. On your back. Wanna see your face when I’m gonna be balls deep in your pussy.”

You took off your clothes and lay down, thinking he would undress too. But he stayed fully dressed, coat on, and he was even hotter like this.

He didn’t wait, didn’t try to give you time. As soon as he settled between your thighs he thrust in one go, his hand around your neck. “Oh, fuck!” you cried when he bottomed out. He used you, growling about how tight you were, thrusting hard, keeping the same pace until your moans filled the room. Pulling out, he growled, “Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve to come so quickly.” He manhandled you on all fours and climbed on the bed, kneeling behind you, holding onto your hips before thrusting in again. He took all he needed, finally releasing the pressure of the day, using your pussy like he would use his fist.

“You’re gonna lose that goddamn attitude, now?” he asked, panting in your ear.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, Joel. Please, let me come.”

“Come then… fuckin’ brat.”

You hastily slid your hand down to your pussy, twirling your clit under your finger. It took only a few seconds for you to pulse on his shaft, a dumb grin on your face. When you stopped shaking, you felt him close to coming too, but he didn't pull out.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m about to come,” he groaned, his hand tightening around the back of your neck and pulling you sharply towards him.

“We shouldn't keep going, pull out, pull out, please!”

“If you ever act like that again, next time I won’t pull out. Got it?” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “And if it sticks, you’ll be the one who’ll have to deal with a damn kid. And I kinda like the idea, right now. We clear?”

“Yes, yes!”

He pulled out at the last moment, growling, his cum covering the inside of your thighs, and then finally released you. He let his weight collapse on top of you, both of you lying on the bed, catching your breath.

“You should have told me sooner that taking a cock was all you needed to calm down,” he grunted.

He stood up, and tucked his cock in his pants.

“Now, get dressed, and go check behind the house. I’ll check the side. Let’s hope your moans didn’t attract a shit ton of infected. Jesus.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

[notsodailycake]

Part 3 for the fitclet I did for @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

For those who missed it:

Part 1 || Part 2

This is probably the longest out of all the 3 parts, dear god, I went all in. It came out bigger than I ever expected it to be. I was not expecting it to go this far honestly, but the parasites in me, they begged for more. So here we are! :D

Again tho, idk how in character they will be here, but I tried my best ＼(*T▽T*)／. Also, kinda bullshitted my way through in worldbuilding bc idk how things work exactly- and I had to come up with stuff on my own, even tho I'm not that good in mecha world stuff, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies ^^;;

Now, to give credit to those who so desperately deserve it:

My sister @saltynsassy31 for helping me when I couldn't write out some of my ideas and doing it herself (so consider this as a bit of a frankenstein monster of both our writing styles, mainly during intense scenes. If there is any fancy words in this, it's cuz of her) and being my beta reader for this part. Seriously yall, this wouldn't have been as coherent and well written without her help!

Also huge thanks to my online sister @yayadrawsthingz for helping out when I hit a few road blocks during this!

And finally, a huge huge thanks to my honorary online uncle @hexyz09 for helping me finish off the final fight scene when I got stuck during some plot holes and road blocks, or generally just writing myself into a corner and having to help me leave it, despite not knowing jackshit about the au, let alone the ship and characters themselves, but was still willing to help me through in working on the plot, in this crazy obsession of mine XD

Yall have no idea how much help these guys were. Probably wouldn't be able to finish without either of their help ᕦ(òωóˇ)ᕤ

Oh and an honourable shoutout to the song "Headlock" by Imogen Heap! Kept listening to this on loop as it kept my drive up to write this.

Now onto the fic!

---

Prowl ignored Jazz's various attemps to push out his servo from the cockpit. Despite the mech being weak himself, the human was still no match against thousands of pounds of metal, especially in his own weakened state.

Which was a matter of its own at the moment. Prowl knew he had very little time to be able to run ahead before the other humans caught on to them, having noticed the alarm bells ringing through the facility.

So he ran towards the exit Jazz had initially pointed out, the only plan they had at the moment.

...

"Prowl! Prowler, hey! I know you can hear me! Prowl!" Jazz shouted as he slammed yet another fist in a failed attempt to nudge the bot's servo out of the way. He hasn't said a word since picking Jazz up, and he wasn't sure how long that was, maybe not that much, but it felt too long yet too little at the same time (what a headache).

Sliding down, he gently hit his forehead over the protective servo and let out a sigh of defeat. No way he could get him to move like this.

Why was he trying to anyways? Didn't he want to be with Prowl? He certainly did, but somehow, something in him made him feel like he shouldn't just be accepting this.

And maybe Prowl also knew this, which is why he took off and hasn’t said a word since. Both held conflicted feelings about the whole thing. If only things didn't feel so blurry right now!

Suddenly, a hard shift made Jazz stumble a bit, grasping at whatever he could so he didn't fall back, loud noises of metal scrapping metal could be heard as something got kicked open on the outside. Jazz scrambled over to the small crevice that opened between Prowl's digits, not enough for him to fit anything over other than his hand, but enough to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Prowl had kicked down the exit door to the lab ('not like he had the hands available to properly open the damn thing anyways' Jazz thought to himself). It was meant for mechas to exit the room after they finish off whatever it is they do in here, that Jazz knew, and if he was right, just down the hall there will be another exit leading to the backroom where they stockpiled the mech suits. No one but the technicians were usually supposed be there, it would be an easy fight to get to the big gate that lead to the outside training grounds, which is why Jazz had pointed for the mech to go down there in the first place.

There shouldn't have been a problem besides giving him time to leave unscathed. Which Jazz assumed would not be the case as he was currently inside Prowl and not buying him time to escape. But, to Jazz's surprise, nothing had come close to attacking them, yet.

The pilot did not have much time to contemplate it as suddenly he heard Prowl rumble an annoyed grunt.

"Don't move."

In shock, Jazz stumbled back as Prowl removed his hand and reached for the end of the overhead gate, seemingly alot harder to kick down than a two way door. The only thing it would really do would be to bend the metal a bit but it wouldn't give an open entrance. Jazz didn't dare leave, not like he could from this hight, but even if he could, Prowl would probably just pick him up again; it be a waste of energy really (just admit it, you don't want to leave him). But something about this felt wrong, so far they haven't had a single guard come down the hall, just this small pause would give them enough time to catch up to the two runaways, Jazz was sure that guards had been on his tail when he was under his rampage.

Unless...

Wait.

"Prowl! Wait don't open that gate!" But he was too late, the moment he uttered those words the mech had already been in motion and pushed the gate up with all his might and as quickly as he opened it a gun shot came through the otherside. They had been waiting for them, they knew where they were heading. The bastard he kicked down prior to this probably saw them and reported it, dammit.

Prowl let out a strangled cry of pain as the shot landed right on his left shoulder (like it wasn't damaged enough by the lack of arm), Jazz fell backwards with the harsh motions, hitting the back of the pilot's seat, the impact leaving his vision to go dark for a few seconds before he collected himself as quickly as he could. In an instant though, just as he tried to get back up to see what was outside, Prowl had put his hand back over the open cockpit.

No...he wouldn't be able to fight like this, protecting him as he is would only hinder the bot to more damage. And that's exactly what Jazz intended to express to the other. "Prowl! You won't be able to fight with your hand over me! Forget about holding me inside, I won't leave, I promise!"

"That's not the point!" Prowl growled, letting out another hiss of pain as more shots were loaded, someone shouting out for them to stand down.

Prowl couldn't risk leaving Jazz exposed. Unlike the human, Prowl could take a few shots, their weapons not being strong enough to inflict any serious damage to his plating (though perhaps a bit to his exposed protoform, though he could handle it for a little while longer). But it would take one lucky shot on Jazz to have him dead in an instant, and Prowl couldn't take that chance.

It seemed like Jazz got the message, not spitting back any sort of remark about Prowl's lack of explanation.

But the mech couldn't linger too much on those thoughts, he had to get out, and fast. He was losing too much energon, and his vision was starting to get blurry, which wasn't a good sign. It didn't help that his thoughts were a hazy mess, his usual ability to think logically overthrown by the panic of needing to get out of this place while ensuring Jazz's survival.

It's not like he had much to do, though. Any possible escape hindered by the fact he couldn't use his weapons unless he risks Jazz's life to one lucky shot. Perhaps he could make a run for it, knock through the mechas in front of him and let them tumble over as he reached the final exit; it wasn’t the best plan perhaps, with at least a 19% rate of success, given he isn't in the best physical state at the moment, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to knock them over. Added to the fact the exit wasn't shut by a gate he could simply knock over easily either, like the previous one. He'd have to push it open from the bottom, and there wasn’t enough time for him to act on it.

But he'd have his back turned to the shots, reassuring Jazz's own safety, so he could perhaps risk removing his servo to push the gate open once more.

With a quick warning from his HUD telling him his energon levels were getting dangerously low, Prowl decided to take the risk, with little time left, he took a step forward making a run for it.

The mechas seemed to ready themselves for his attack, quickly positioning their weapons to target him, closing any narrow space they had between each other.

What they didn't expect was for the mech to charge his whole body weight onto them. Despite not feeling any pain, they certainly could not fight against gravity itself. They all stumbled against each other as Prowl made a mad dash to the gate. He slid on his knees and made a quick reach for the bottom of the gate, anxiously removing his hand from over the cockpit, bending over protectively as to not have anything be able to aim inside.

He could feel his spark beating fast from anxiety, they were so close, they'll be able to leave soon enough. Jazz was most certainly having a good feel to Prowl's anxious beat, the loud thruming reaching the bot's own audials was most certainly deafening to the human sitting near it.

Then, a shot.

A pop.

A blinding light.

And the beat stops.

Jazz was curling in on himself as an instinct to protect himself from the sudden burst behind him. It only took a few seconds for him to realise what that was once he couldn't hear a single beat of a spark, or the burning sensation it left, feeling his own heart stop and drop to his gut.

It felt like the world around him suddenly stopped, everything going into slow motion, with no sounds to accompany the dread. Feeling as Prowl's body leaned foward to crash on the ground.

But just as quickly as the silance came, it left. Prowl catching himself from hitting the ground with a grunt, a slam could be heard as his arm and elbow made contact with the concrete floor. His spark beating, weakly, but beating nonetheless. What felt like hours of silance was only a quick few seconds of deafening dread.

"Prowl!" Jazz called out in desperation, reaching out to hold the edges of the cockpit, so not to fall out, but to also try and comfort his anxiousness as he tried to look up at the mech's face. The mech made a sound of acknowledgement, which came out more like broken static, but didn't make much effort to move, his face scrunched up in pain, optics shut. They shot him on his back, too close to where his spark would be, causing him to skip a beat, and busting a bit of his left doorwing, but it still seemed to function somewhat.

Suddenly, both of them picked up on the sound of something opening, giving no time for either to fully process what had just occurred. Prowl made a quick move to get his hand over the cockpit once more (with slight struggle as he stumbled and fell on his aft) as a thick metal slab emerged from above and beneath, right in front of the gate, shutting it close with a protective layer of metal. Guessing by the red alarm ringing around them, an emergency protocol to keep anyone from leaving. Slag.

The mechas surrounded them, guns all aimed to shoot at the alien mech if he didn't comply.

It was silent for a brief moment, in exception to Prowl's anxious beating spark (which wasn't a problem for Jazz at the moment, the burning warmth being somewhat comforting) and Jazz's own heart beating over his ears. Both catching their breaths.

"There's no point in fighting. So make this easy for all of us and surrender yourselves." A nobody pilot finally spoke out, weapon leaning a tad closer than the others.

The atmosphere felt heavy, they were pinned down. Really, the only thing they could do was surrender, but Jazz would sure as hell be reprimanded for his actions and Prowl.....he didn’t want to think about that. No, he wouldn't even allow that thought to become any sort of reality.

"Prowl" he whispered, knowing only the mech would hear him, leaning a gentle souch to his servo as if to beg, "I know you might not have alot of trust 'n me, but this might be our best shot." There was a tense shift, not too noticeble unless you could see the mechanisms from the inside, Prowl knew what he was about to suggest. "You need to let me pilot you." He cringed as he felt the other's servo stiffen, he wasn't pleased with the idea, and neither was Jazz, but he knew this place alot better than Prowl did, and knew how to properly defeat the mechas, knowing their weak spots. And Prowl was all too aware of that too, Jazz knew it. They both were very aware of it all.

"Please," he begged, leaning his forehead on the mech's servo yet again, "I can't lose you again." There was slight shift, Jazz looked up, though he obviously couldn't see the mech's face, the sigh he let out was loud and clear. The controls on the pilot's seat shifted, Jazz got the message:

'Alright'

He couldn't help but let a small smirk creep over his face, making way to sit down and start piloting.

"Under one condition though," Prowl suddenly whispered to him, though it was alot louder to Jazz on the inside.

"And what would that be, partner?" The title flew out too fast for Jazz to stop himself, feeling so natural to call Prowl partner once more. The mech didn't seem against it though.

"No removing my hand."

Jazz was left stunned for a quick second, though it felt like a minute for Prowl as he waited for a reply eagerly.

"I can work with that." Prowl let out a sigh of relief at that, allowing the human, his partner, to take control of him again.

It took a moment for Jazz to adjust himself, in the meantime, the people waited outside anxiously for the other to make a move. When Prowl finally started to shift around to stand up with a small grunt, everyone raised their guns and loaded them up, but didn't shoot just yet. The mech looked up at them with a deadly glare, but made no move to attack, his remaining arm not leaving the open cockpit for a second, he simply stood up with a slight slump to his posture, doorwings drooping down slightly. In all possible ways, he looked weak and defeated, no signs of fighting back.

One of the mechas walked closer, gun still aiming at Prowl, but it was lowered slightly. They reached a hand out expectantly.

"The pilot, hand him over." They demanded, no sympathy whatsoever.

Prowl clutched his chasis, anger pooling over in his spark, doorwings twitching up slightly, but he made no move to attack. Not yet. He heard Jazz speak to him in a low tone so only he could hear it, with a sigh, he relaxed. He slowly, very slowly, drew out his hand from the cockpit, the action in itself having the other mecha have their body relax slightly as they approached the mech, weapon being put down slightly enough, and so did the others around them. Jackpot.

Before he fully removed his servo, the mech made move to crouch down and in a swift motion swung a peed over to the mechas own, catching them off balance and knocking them down. Jazz let out a small hiss to the action, forgetting his own injured leg, but pushed on regardless.

Using the thrusters of his doorwings, they were able to balance themselves back up, Prowl's servo going back into fully protecting it's pilot once more. With most weapons being aimed up and not down, it took a delayed second to aim correctly, but it was enough time for the human and cybertronian duo to twist themselves out of harms way.

Before the fallen pilot could attempt to get up, Jazz made move to aim over the weak spot of their mecha's knee and stepped hard enough to break its mechanisms so they couldn't stand back up easily. But the glory was short lived as more shots were fired their way.

Jazz's hand twitched to move and use its weapons, but he resisted the urge with a slight huff, "Man, 's hard to fight without an arm!"

"This is none negotiable, Jazz." Prowl hissed as they made move to avoid more shots.

"I know, I know! Don't mean it makes it easier!" Jazz tried to analyse their surroundings, though it was made difficult with the many HUD warnings from all the injuries (the pilot couldn't help but mutter a broken "I'm so sorry" to his partner, whether the mech heard him or not he wasn't sure), but pushing through it, he took note of a few key details. There was a metal catwalk grate near above the mechas' heads, running with a few on ground troops, the bastard of a boss being one of the few amongst them. Near a corner stood an elevator to go up and down the area.

How that could help, Jazz wasn't sure yet.

A shot hit Prowl's arm, pain flowed through the mech as he moved out of the way once more. Jazz looked around in a frenzy to find a place to shield themselves....the mechas! Making a run for to the lifeless husks, he swivelled around between them and hid behind the many rows of mechas knowing full well that they would not risk such precious resource and money just to reach them. At least he hoped not, because he just needed a little bit of time to figure something out.

Hearing the big man call out to hold their fire was good enough indication that his idea worked.

"Ok, now we just need somethin' to distract them long enough for us to make a jump to the ceiling." Jazz explained

"The ceiling?" Prowl inquired, not so certain about his partner's ability to properly think at the moment.

Jazz rolled his eyes, but didn't make mention of the mech's tone. "It's the weakest point here, plus" he made way for Prowl to look up to where he remembered the area to be at, "there's a trap door for flying mechas and emergencies. One quick press of a button will open it up, even under "safety protocols."" Prowl let out a hum in thought, seeming to analyse the situation.

"Possible, but where is this said button?"

"Behind the elevator, by the catwalk grating on top. There's a control panel, and one big red button, can't miss it."

"Would smashing it still get it to work?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't have any complaints."

"Good, now," Jazz went back to scanning the area, "how to cause a distraction?"

"Would that broken pipe be of any use?" Prowl made an effort to twitch his head over to the direction of what he wanted Jazz to see. And just as the mech stated, there, by the first floor of the elevator, stood a broken pipe, steam coming out of it.

Jazz smirked "it would actually. If we can get somethin' to shoot at it, we might cause an explosion, giving us time to jump up without being the target anymore."

"Sounds like a plan." Prowl shrugged.

"Don't have anything to add?" Jazz asked a bit surprised.

"No, I don't." The pilot didn't push.

"Okay. Well, let's get these bastards shootin." In quick motion, they made way to the elevator, already hearing the commands to shoot fire, 'but watch for the machines!' Weapons were loaded from above as well, shooting down at the two runaways once again.

Jazz made sure to move swiftly behind the mechas, making sure they were shielded properly. Any gaps they had to cross was a small risk they needed to take, scrapes and scratches being left in its wake, but tried not to do it too often, just enough that they could follow them. They eventually reached where the pipes were, Jazz took a deep breath.

"Ready, big guy?"

"Ready."

They stepped foward, making sure to call the attention towards where they were, but quickly retrieting back behind the mechas suits as they shot directly where they wanted to hit. "Bingo."

Quickly, activating Prowl's thrusters, they leaped over to the metal grates that stood above them as the pipes behind them burst, causing a huge commotion as empty mechas fell down and whatever machine near the crossfire tumbled down. Prowl let out a gasp as he felt the world around him spin, the grating beneath them not being of any help as it shook with his weight. Jazz was quick to hold on, helping the mech stablise himself before aiming with his left foot to kick the big red button with their ticket out of here, the motion causing his vision to flash in pain, but he bit his toung until he could taste iron and pushed forward.

Hearing the metal door above them open up, Jazz readied himself, but hesitated with the warning he'd received from Prowl's HUD from his low energon levels. He didn’t even get the chance to fully check on it though, Prowl quickly pushing them out of the way himself.

"I'll live, just one more push." The mech hastily reassured the human. Jazz wasn't inclined to belive it though, feeling the other's spark beat anxiously (and for some reason that made him feel slightly dizzy. Though he chalked it up to it being his possible concussion).

It took one shot to slip an inch away from Prowl's face for them to finally snap out of it and jump. One more push from his thrusters as they flew up through the trap door and landed on top of the roof with a grunt, the mech's left wing finally giving out.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Looking out, a wasteland of a forest awaited them, with dense trees at the bottom.

"We'll have to make a jump for it. If we're lucky enough the trees will be big enough to hide us." Jazz supplied.

"45% of that happening. But we don't have much of another option at the moment." Prowl added

With all that being said, Jazz moved into action. With so much at stake, he had to, he couldn't waste another second in debating. Hefting Prowl up, he used all remaining strength to jump where they needed to go, but as the training grounds began to get closer than anticipated, Prowl knew they didn’t make the jump and that made the mech almost freeze.

Though Jazz had other plans, because as their impending flat doom approached in rapid speed, Prowl's remaining thruster burst to life and gave that final impusle they needed to reach the slope. They both braced themselves as they were thrown up and over to their intended destination, Prowl having half a mind to tighten his hold over his chest so none of the debris and impact could reach the fragile human still in his care.

They rolled down the slope, Prowl just barely being able to shift himself so that he was sliding on his back instead. The aggresive motion of going down a not so smooth path causing bigger cuts and slashes against his already damaged frame. But the only thing he could think of at the moment was that they made it.

Jazz was quick to let go of his control over Prowl, who in turn made an effort to sit properly. Though the sudden slamming to his servo made him look down worriedly, moving it slightly to see Jazz leaning on it desperately.

"Prowl-" he heaved, "Prowl put me down I'm feeling sick."

The mech panicked and quickly made move to help the human down, gently placing him on the grass below. Jazz made no effort in being graceful as he hurled over and puked his guts out, luckily avoiding Prowl in all of this.

Clutching his stomach in pain, his heaving and coughs agitating the injuries on his abdomen. Everything around him felt blurry and muffled as his body made sure to get everything he had eaten in the past day out of him.

What made him panic was the sudden taste of iron in his mouth as he coughed up whatever he had left inside. That's not good. And that definitely didn't escape the giant mech's notice, who kept a hovering servo near him.

"Jazz! Is that blood?!" His voice sounded so broken, static lacing over his words.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah it is." He wasn't sure how to deny that really, and he felt too light-headed to try. But his attention diverted to the sudden pink glow that landed at the side of his vision.

Energon.

Quickly looking up, he finally got a glance at his partner's battered condition. Energon leaked from many different parts of his body, but the main source being from his missing arm. Jazz couldn't help but cringe at that.

But what hurt him the most to see was the weak light from the mech's optics, which still held visible concern on them. Despite being close to going into offline, he still looked at Jazz as if he's about the crumble into dust and leave him. Which he honestly, maybe, felt like. But seeing Prowl's optics flicker as they fought to stay online, Jazz panicked

"What 'bout you?!" He called back, catching the bot off guard. "You're losing too much energon! You look like you're about to go offline!"

Prowl cringed a little, not having anything to counter that. "Well that's because I-"

"No! I'm only a little bit dizzy, but I'll live. We need to patch you up right now!"

"I can help with that."

The new voice catches the duo off guard, Prowl immediately reaching out to Jazz, hand shielding the human from whoever that might be. Jazz looked down from where he was looking at Prowl and turned to see who it was that the voice came from.

There standing in front of them was a human carrying a simple tool box and a huge backpack strapped over one shoulder, filled with questionable things.

---

BEFORE YOU LEAVE, a little something I would like to point out for the fic, that some of yall with either like or not, during the process of writing this, I've seen a few posts keferon made about the spark being radioactive and such, and it sorta made me think a bit while developing Jazz's condition. So well, take Jazz's health in this as you will with this info :)

But anyways, yippie!! That's all for today folks! I hope yall enjoyed this one bc I definitely had a heck of a time writing this one XD

It got alot bigger than I anticipated and took much longer to finish than I originally planned (was supposed to be done 2 days ago).

Now, I know I keep saying "not sure if I'll make another part to this" but then proceed to do so anyways. But I mainly do so because everytime I shared it someone said something that added to the story somehow and gave me ideas to continue foward.

So like, if yall liked this and wanna see more, don't be shy to suggest/add anything to this as it may help inspire me to add more onto this, cuz honestly idk what the fuck I'm doing rn, I'm just going with the flow ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, a bit of note for the doodle, holy shit I did not expect it to look this good!! Tho I suffered with Jazz's suit, plz ignore any inaccuracies tee-hee. Prowl's knee and hands were hell too, especially his knee, but i could like, hide most of it lmao. Actually mainly struggled to not have his hand cover Jazz too much bc it kept covering the parts I actually wanted to show off lmao.

Oh and the guy at the end? Yall can take a good guess as to who it is :)

But since he doesn't have any official design, I kinda went with whatever felt right lol.

I also really wanted to draw out more scenes to add to the fic, but then it would take me a lot more time to actually post the fic as I figure out how to draw robots :'). But maybe I can try and doodle them out another time if I can, no promises tho-

[fettuccin-e]

Patience Long Gone

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, thigh riding obviously, praise, dry humping (yeah that's right nobody gets naked), Jackson!era, Joel talks dirty yeah I said it (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: Ayo first Joel fic and it's during Kinktober ofc. I have been reading too many Joel fics to not partake in the old man thirst okay. And also have you seen this gif??? I want to ride that man's thigh like its a rodeo okay!! (For the month I have been following this list by flightlessangelwings!)

He can’t fuck you like he wants to, not right now. And God, Joel wants to, so badly. But there’s no time. There’s never any fucking time.

He hadn’t minded the hustle and bustle of Jackson when he and Ellie first arrived. He’d been grateful for the distraction, for the feeling of being useful again. He’d been grateful for the patrols, the odd repairs around town that didn’t require any socializing, content in his solitude with Ellie safe and sound within the town’s walls.

And then he’d met you. Sweet, soft, you, that doesn’t take any of his bullshit, forces him out of his shell with your sharp wit and endless patience. You, who Tommy introduced to him as the town veterinarian, until you became so much more. You, who asked him to fix your doorframe so, so sweetly, and not five minutes into his work, dragged him into your home and into your bed.

He never truly left.

But there’s no time to treat you like he wants to, fuck you like both of you need. There’s always something else, a threat at the border, an emergency in the stables. He hasn’t seen you cum in weeks, and the thought makes him shudder. He has the most beautiful woman in this entire godforsaken world, and he can’t even find the time to make her feel so fucking good.

It’s one of those few moments where you both are home, exhausted but not nearly tired enough to sleep. You’d crawled into his lap like a damn cat, planting yourself on his thick thigh, all languid grace and allure that has his cock aching in his jeans.

You curl two fists into his shirt, pulling him to your lips, and fuck, this is nothing like the stolen kisses you share in the spare moments you find with each other. This is water in the desert. This is life, not just survival. You’re so fucking soft against him, you scent invading his nose.

“Missed you,” you breathe between kisses, “Missed you so much, Joel.”

He groans, curling his fingers into your hair. He licks softly at your bottom lip, begging wordlessly for you to open for him. You do, without hesitation, and moan in a way that has his head spinning as he licks into your mouth. 

“God, sweetheart,” he grumbles as you break apart for breath. “You’re so goddamn pretty. Missed you too, sweet girl, been missin’ you so fuckin’ bad.”

He lets his hands explore you, roaming down your back, up under your shirt to feel that soft, soft skin. He paws over the curve of your ass, and he can’t help but smirk into your mouth as your hips buck forward.

“Needy,” he drawls, but he pushes on your ass again, making your hips buck forward along his thigh. Fuck, it’s good, the way you moan so pretty for him. “You wanna cum, pretty girl?” he croons. You nod so hard he thinks your head may fly off, but you seem to think better of it far too soon for his liking, shaking your head, as if to dismiss the very thought of chasing your own pleasure.

“I’m supposed to help Maria- fuck,” you curse as he leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. “I’m supposed to help Maria with the horses, Joel.”

“She can wait,” he growls, and he pulls on your hips, dragging you up his thigh. You keen involuntarily, the seam of your jeans pressing so hard, so perfect into your clit. “Just want you to feel good, wanna make you feel good.”

His voice is dark, a rasp that has your pussy soaking through your panties. He’s so big, so broad, and his thigh is providing a kind of pressure against your cunt that you haven’t felt for so long. It’s too much of a temptation for you to ignore. You pull your hips back again in a slow, sure drag, before humping back forward. You tuck your face into the crook of Joel’s neck as you let out a high-pitched whine.

“Good fucking girl, sound so pretty for me,” he murmurs, “Don’t that feel nice?” 

You nod frantically into his skin, hands fisting into his shirt so tight your knuckles go pale. You hump your hips forward, again and again and again, moaning as your clit throbs in your panties. Joel’s grip remains tight on your hips, helping you along, pressing you down harder. Your head swims, tears springing to your eyes.

“Need to cum,” you gasp, wriggling your hips in desperate little grinds. “Need to cum so fucking bad, Joel, fuck- I’m, I need it, ah-” You feel desperate, needy, unable to string together a sentence is you hump Joel’s thigh like an animal.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, grumbling and wonderful. “I’m gonna make you cum right now, okay sweetheart? And when you get home tonight, I’ll be here to do it again and again, right baby?” The thought has you aching, desperately humping into his jeans. You’re so close, you’re so fucking close.

“I’ll lay you down in our bed, sweet girl, and I’ll eat that pretty cunt out like you deserve, fuck, haven’t tasted you in so fucking long.” Joel pulls you along his thigh as he speaks, flexing the muscle underneath that makes the pressure so much more devastating. “And then I’ll sink my cock into your pretty little pussy, fuck you full of me, baby. I’ll keep stuffin’ you full, make you cum so much you soak the sheets through, and I’ll just keep goin’, right baby? God, I’ll make sure you can’t fuckin’ walk tomorrow,” he snarls his words, a violent, primal promise that has your body quaking in his hold as you cum against his thigh.

You sob with the force of your orgasm, curling into Joel’s solid body as he holds you through it, cooing into your ear how good you are, how gorgeous you look. It’s like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs, trying to get ahold of yourself again. Joel never lets you go, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally regain control of your breath, your body, you can only tilt your head to his lips to kiss him softly, gently. 

“You didn’t get to cum,” you whine, and Joel chuckles at how forlorn you sound. His beautiful, perfect girl, so caring, so doting.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he grumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “When you get home tonight, I have plans for both of us that’ll have us wrung fuckin’ dry by mornin’.”

[fallrafwe]

,,CONVERSATION”

a/n: i just think dark!rafe is so hot, especially with a gun ☺️ also this was supposed to be short but i struggle with that because i like details and i also like paragraphs 😢 sorry for not posting for like forever btw

warnings: dark!rafe, toxic/abusive!rafe, gun play/gun kink, NONCON/DUBCON, humiliation, dumbification, strong language, overstimulation, somnophilia, unconscious sex, choking, passing out

summary: you have an attitude and rafe does not like it at all

Rafe followed after you when you stormed out of the living room and up the stairs, “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” he yelled as you practically ran up the stairs. You didn’t want to hear him yell at you for hours on end about dumb shit, you did basically nothing. All you did was talk to some guy who approached you at the beach, and you didn’t think anything of it, but of course, Rafe had to make it a big deal.

When you made it to Rafe’s bedroom, you ran your hands through your hair, groaning stressfully. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m.. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, you don’t get to just walk away from me whenever you feel like it!” He shouted, approaching you slowly. You were getting backed into a wall, “Why can’t you just listen to me?” he questioned you. His ringed hand made it to your arm, slowly twisting it.

You were quick to push him off successfully with your free hand, only able to do so since he didn’t know you would even try to fight back, so he never stood his ground. “Can you just stop? Stop trying to fucking hurt me every chance you get! I can talk to other people, can’t I, Rafe?” You screamed, you were so irritated, you were finally done with his bullshit. Your legs pushed you towards the door, but was quickly stopped when you heard shuffling and a click.

“Turn around.” He commanded you, expecting you to listen, and you did. You turned around slowly, not wanting him to do anything. Rafe had a gun pointed at you, “I could pull the trigger right now,” he said calmly, and his index finger was indeed on the trigger. Why was he so calm about this? Your heart rate was rapidly rising, causing your chest to visibly be moving up and down. “Rafe.” You whispered, and he just stared at you with his menacing dark blue eyes.

His hand dropped to his side, and he was starting to walk towards you. Puddles of tears quickly formed in your eye, but you didn’t want him to know you were on the edge of crying, even though he could probably tell from the glint coming from your eyes. He wasn’t done with you though, “Get on the fuckin’ bed, and take your clothes off.” he said this as he was pointing to where you should go with the gun, you rushed to the bed as he walked behind you, with the gun pointed to your head.

The tears made its way down your cheek, staining it with purpose. You felt yourself panicking, wondering if the pace you were taking your clothes off was quick enough. He was getting his point across, the bold, black item staring at your head. The gun could go off at any moment, and knowing Rafe, he could do it. Your thoughts got brushed away after a few seconds when he told you to spread your legs. And you did just what he said without a thought.

He walked a little closer, his eyes admiring your tits and their hardened buds. His eyes now traveled down to your cunt, and he was hard at the sight, he moved the gun to rest on your clit, the textured steel made you cringe as he moved it up and down. You let out a light gasp as you dropped your elbows that were propping you up, your head was tossed to the side as his movements eventually got quicker, making you eager for more. You start grinding your hips up and down so more friction would come from it.

The movements coming from his hand halted, making you whine from the sudden stop. You could feel the gun moving from your clit to your entrance, and that’s when you decided to speak up, “Rafe, stop, I don’t wan..” you were cut off by the fact you were now staring down the barrel of the gun. “I really.. don’t care what you want, so you’re gonna sit here, and take everything I fucking give you. Yeah?” He said, confirming it with you.

Your head nodded in fear. The gun then moved back to its original placing, making you groan a little. The burning sensation immediately hit you as the gun started to stretch you out, greeting your dripping walls. Rafe’s tongue met his lips, being moistened at the sight of you loving the way his gun feels inside of you. He let out a smirk as he eventually thrusted the gun in and out, he couldn’t do it super far though since the trigger guard stopped that.

Rafe then brought the gun to a more upwards angle to try to hit that sensitive spot you craved to be touched, and it did just that. You could feel the tip of the gun brushing against your g-spot every time Rafe thrusted it in and out, a loud moan rolled off your tongue, making you arch your back as you got a little closer each thrust. “Gonna cum on this fuckin’ gun, huh? Thought you didn’t want me to do this?” He said to you, smirking as you closed your eyes, but your mouth never followed, it was forming a circle instead.

“Y’know, it’s fucking pathetic. Just wanted someone or, something, to get you off, so you had to talk to another guy, right? And now here you are, about to cum all over a gun. It’s fucking disgusting.” He spat, he was emphasizing every word he could to make you even more embarrassed, and it worked. Tears eventually met with your waterline, making you feel humiliated. You told yourself how it was pathetic you couldn’t even make him stop, so you just took it instead, but now it doesn’t matter, because you were gonna make a mess all over his gun.

A rope eventually tugged at your stomach, threatening to tug itself loose, and it did just that. You spilt your orgasm all over Rafe’s gun, making him chuckle. He let you ride out your orgasm before he eventually pulled it out, it was wet, your orgasm was evident, with white splotches in every little spot. Your eyes met with his as he licked a long stripe up the gun, making sure to taste your arousal that was left all over his gun.

His free hand trailed down to his shorts, pulling them and his boxers down with ease. He started stroking his dick for a little before he brushed a finger over his tip, making him let out a tiny groan. Rafe let go of his dick and grabbed your leg, bringing it up to his shoulder. The gun was put on your stomach, and with the free hand he now had, he took his cock and slipped it into your stretched out entrance.

Containing himself was hard enough right now, and he didn’t wanna hold back at all, so he didn’t. He reeled himself back and thrusted into you while grabbing the gun, he wanted fear to enter you as he did this, you didn’t want to look at the gun, but you just had to. The gun made you feel vulnerable, scared, and you didn’t know if you liked that, but even if you didn’t, Rafe would make you like it. Moans escaped your mouth as he thrusted in and out of you in the harshest manner possible.

He smirked, “Your pussy is sucking me in, and you’re soaking wet, y’like this?” he laughed at the way you couldn’t even speak, his tip was kissing your g-spot every time he slid out and slammed himself back in. Your near orgasm was overpowering your speech, making you speak inaudible words, “You’re going dumb on my cock, huh? Taking every inch I give you.” you loved the way his dirty talk brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your mouth opened as he towered over you, he tossed the gun to the side as he kissed your collarbone and held your left leg up to his shoulder. You loved the skin how his hand rubbed your thigh, and how his other hand traced your waist, the skin to skin contact made you form a smile on your face, quickly disappearing when he gave you one more thrust, causing you to go undone. “Fuck, fuck, just like that Rafe.” You moaned, letting your cum paint his dick white, Rafe’s lips pressed against your neck, sucking your skin to create a hickey. The mix of pleasure and pain got to you, “Rafe, s’too much, stop!” you whined.

The thrusts inside you only got rougher, and more sloppier. He took his mouth off you, “Fuckin’ take it then, be a good whore, okay?” he snarled. He let out tiny groans against your skin as his fingernails dug into your waist and thigh, the sound of skin colliding together was filling the room. Your natural instinct was to close your legs since he wouldn’t stop, but he didn’t let that happen, he detached his grasp from your waist, and moved it your right leg to pull it apart from the left one, his rings on a new area of your skin made you shiver.

It was too much for you to take, but the overstimulating sense got the best of you, and you were soon about to cum on his cock for the second time. He finally slowed his movements and let his white ropes of cum fill your cunt up, painting your dripping walls white. A long, low pitched groan escaped his mouth as he pulled out of your pulsating walls, a little gasp coming from you as you had a ruined orgasm. Rafe was panting as he looked down at you, cum dripping out of your ruined hole.

Aftercare was barely a thing for him, so he didn’t care how he left you like, even if it was in his own room. You can take care of yourself, is what he always said, and he never cares how you feel about it, the whole relationship revolves around him, and no one can change that, so you learned not to care. “You know, if I wasn’t here, who would be putting you in your place? Huh?” He questioned, and you were too bothered to do anything, so you turned to your side, revealing your ass and leaking pussy to him.

Your ass was gifted a slap, making you jolt upwards in surprise, your arms acting as pillars of support. “Rafe, I don’t know, okay?” You shouted, grabbing your thong, skirt, bra and shirt that were thrown to the side of you. He grabbed your jaw in response, “Do you need another fucking reminder of who you belong to?” he squished your jaw, you shook your head no, and he pushed your head back before letting go. You both started to get dressed, him being fully clothed before you.

The gun was just staring at you, but you assumed he forgot about it, and you didn’t wanna find out either. So you didn’t wanna stick around to see for yourself, after you finished getting dressed you headed towards the door, putting your head against it and your right arm rested below, while your free arm opened the door. It never got unnoticed by Rafe, he walked up to you from behind and grabbed the back of your neck, shoving you away as he let go. “You just.. don’t fucking learn do you?” He said, putting two fingers to his head before putting them back to his side. You turned around to meet his eyes.

His hand wrapped perfectly around your throat, and both your hands met his ringed hand. He was squeezing rather tightly, “Rafe—Rafe, stop!” you managed to choke out, he could careless about how you’re feeling right now, or matter of fact; any time, and it shows. “You clearly need to learn still, don’t you?” Rafe tilted his head barely as his face was inches away from yours. You could feel yourself begin to give out, black edges threatening to overpower your vision. Somehow, he found a way to squeeze even tighter, as if he wasn’t squeezing his hardest. Finally, your eyes became droopy, eventually coming to a complete close, your bodyweight sinking in his hand.

Rafe didn’t care, so he threw you on the bed. He was gonna take his time with you, he wouldn’t care if it hurt, whether you were asleep or woke up in the middle of it. He would make sure you felt everything he was gonna do.

[mullermilkshake]

Yandere Satoru Gojo

@ellavdrea

Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Reader MINORSDNI 🔞 = Tags: Yandere!Gojo, au with cursed energy, graphic depictions of violence and bodily harm, death, manipulation, physical/ psychological abuse.

Satoru had enough of your shit.

The countless obscenities and hits to his face as you thrashed around because your will simply refused to be compliant. He could take that. He did take that.

But what he couldn’t abide was your countless, albeit rare attempts to leave him.

Him. Like he was riddled with an infectious illness or something. Or perhaps he was just that unlikable that you couldn’t bare to be in the same room as him. Satoru was far more than just likeable, he could ask anyone and he’d get the answer he wanted.

He was amazing.

You just refused to see what was right in front of you because you were that stubborn.

“Get off of me!”

You pulled and tugged, clawing at the back of his hand that held so tight like you would vanish if he didn’t.

“Don’t fight this.” He said, fuming purely at the fact that this time, you almost made it impossible for him to find you. Like a mole underground who hung tight until the fox had passed.

Well, Satoru was more intelligent than a cunning fox, he was more of a blood hound and sniffing your scent drove him wild.

“I will fight this- trust me, I’ll get out again and you’ll never find me you son of a bitch!”

As clever as you thought you were, there was always a trail you left behind, no matter how faint. Whether it be a scrap of your cursed energy you didn’t know you had or just that Satoru happened to be in the right place and right time, he always found you.

It’s just that this time was a close call. And there wasn’t going to be a second chance for that to happen again.

Not ever.

Satoru yanked you close and noticed your strained wince immediately. “I’ve told you time and time again that this isn’t an option. But you never listen.”

Now Satoru couldn’t just leave you alone in the house even if he did essentially baby proof it ten times over to prevent you stepping a foot outside.

You’d find some weak point eventually like an octopus squeezing through a hole the size of its eye, you were just as slippery.

Some days he’d be out the whole day, his life still rolling over despite you waiting at home. The daily stressors of sorcerer life put his patience to a tether that almost severed with you regularly.

“I don’t listen because you’re fucking crazy-“

You managed to move your hand and swing for his face, though you knew just as well as Satoru did. His infinity around most of his body was never lowered.

Especially around you.

He didn’t react to it and pulled you down the hallway, the soles of your shoes squeaking on the wood which bellowed your temper toward him. Satoru didn’t have a temper as such, he could make you do whatever he wanted when the occasion called for it. However his strength out matched you like a bulldozer to a sheet of paper.

You were delicate and Satoru worked hard to control how much force he used so he didn’t end up doing permanent damage. But he held out in the hope that you would eventually want to do things with him without coercion or unnecessary force.

“You have no idea how shit filled the world is. You’d be begging to stay with me if you actually knew what was out there.”

To date, oddly enough you had never reacted to low level curses Satoru used to test just how much you knew about his own world.

You knew nothing, or you were an excellent liar. Either way, the only thing that was truly special about you was your cursed energy. The energy itself was unaware of its own presence.

It’s what drew him to you in the first place.

That was a year ago.

Since then it was all still a daily uphill battle.

“Bullshit would I- Satoru let me go!” Your shrill scream became raspy and broken like a tantrum from a child that compared to you acted far more mature.

So for Satoru’s own piece of mind, what you needed was a room with no windows and one door in and out.

Then he’d know where you were at all times.

Which translated to the basement.

And you hated the basement.

Though what choice did he have?

As soon as you knew where Satoru was taking you, the disgusted glare and gritted teeth switched for something far more upsetting.

“No. No, no, no, I’m not going down there!”

“You’re not giving me a choice.”

Standing in the doorway, Satoru took you by the shoulders and even pulled his blindfold down to show how serious he was. “You fight me every step of the way when I’m only trying to do well by you. There’s so much shit out there and you don’t even know how bad things can get.”

You said nothing, but your eyes were so wide they were watering. Satoru took this as a chance to continue. “I love you. And you don’t see it. I care for you, and you don’t see it. I only want what’s best for you and you don’t fucking see it.”

“And shoving me down in the basement is what’s best for me?”

Was it rhetorical? Satoru didn’t care. “Yes. It is.”

There was no way to protect yourself when you couldn’t see curses. Especially with the odd cursed energy you were emitting.

And if Suguru got a hold of you, Satoru dreaded to think.

And then as though a switch turned you back on, you struggled again. “I’m not going down there!”

“Yes you are.” He had to be careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck you!”

“You’re going down there. End of- be careful on the stairs or you’ll fall-“

“I hope I do-“

“Don’t say that.” His voice was so gruff, almost angry. You were trying his patience way too much saying things like that.

“I hope I fall and break my neck then I wouldn’t have to deal with you-“

“I said stop it… stop-“

You lost your footing, whether it was intentional, Satoru couldn’t gauge it and in his profound shock, he didn’t react in time to catch you. He watched you in slow motion and then time sped up, your pretty little neck hit every step in the way down into the dark pit of the basement void.

He blinked and registered. Moving in a blink to capture you in his arms by the third step from the bottom.

“Hey.”

You were limp, eyes closed. Your cursed energy bubbling beyond the surface like a boiling pot, nothing unusual only that you weren’t breathing.

“Wait… wake up.” He said, shaking you ever so slightly. “Wake up right now.”

It was as though you were joking, playing a game with him to get what you wanted and scare the living daylights out of him.

“Wake up right now!”

This time he shook you, teeth gritted hard together and your shattered neck jiggled your head about with his movement. Your slender neck just that little bit longer when he realised is was really broken and this wasn’t a joke of yours.

“No… wake up now.” He could’t heal you, only Shoko could do that.

Was it too late? Had death already consumed you that you would refuse to come back?

“Please… don’t leave.” His breaths were heavy, cumbersome.

And you were just lifeless.

Then, you weren’t.

It was your cursed energy that Satoru recognised, wisping about your body almost like it was weaving together. And then you twitched again, then jolted about in Satoru’s arms until you screamed right by his ear so guttural and primal that it even drew his head back from you.

Yet still he kept a hold of you, eyes wider than they had ever been and in shock at your reanimation.

Until now, Satoru had never seen anything like it. Suguru would most definitely dig his claws into you so deep if he realised just how special you had become in just a matter of seconds. A matter of seconds and everything had just changed. Your need for protection and risk factors had risen exponentially.

Satoru was sure you were still human too and not like the undead he had seen in movies. You were still… you, from what he could tell.

You huffed and heaved and coughed against him, opening your eyes with such panic took Satoru’s breath away from his chest as he held it. The fabric of his shirt squeezed between the joints of your fingers as though you would never let go.

Like you needed him.

You actually needed him.

“Hey- wait it’s alright. I’ve got you.” Satoru held you close and for just a minute, you leant into him and sobbed.

“I’m here, baby.”

Satoru shouldn’t have said that. You glared up at him with a face full of thunder, pushing away from him in an instant. “You fucking pushed me, you monster!”

He initially blinked at your sudden furious gaze, but got a hold of your wrists quick enough before you could through them around.

“I didn’t push you. You slipped-“

“Like hell I did- how am I even talking right now? You pushed me and it hurt!”

How on earth was your cursed energy so volatile that it repaired you without your say on reverse curse technique? You healed yourself at an exceptional rate and were none the wiser to it.

“I didn’t push you, do you hear me?” Taking you by the shoulders seemed to stop the messy haze you were in. “I would never do that.”

But this incident got you clinging to him like he was your favourite person in the world, even if it was just for a minute.

One minute was more time than you had bothered to give Satoru. Ever.

That minute alone would have been enough to get him by for the next few hours before he would want it again, going down a slippery slope he had inevitably opened without realising.

Your voice was broken. “You did- you did do it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Get away from me!”

“I didn’t fucking push you.”

You really weren’t going to let go of this, were you? Even experiencing something as traumatic as you just did.

“Oh really? Then why did I see you just looking at me as I fell and you left me there unconscious!

You didn’t even know the extent of your injuries.

A little spark ignited in his head when he saw how distressed you were. Satoru could use this to his advantage. It was sick, but perhaps this was his way to put an end to your bratty attitude. That feral flame needed extinguishing.

“If you think that I would intentionally hurt you, then you don’t know me at all.”

Your anger shifted back to that of upset and distress, sobbing over your words and gripping a hold of his shirt more aggressively.

“I don’t, that’s the point. I-I don’t want to know you and I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and have a normal life without you lurking around every corner and breathing down my neck all the time!”

This wasn’t unexpected news to Satoru, yet it hurt just as much as if it was. Were you really that repulsed by his presence? Satoru found himself questioning everything and that little poisonous thought burrowed deeper into his brain like a parasite.

If you were unaware then it could be used against you. ‘I wouldn’t ever do that…’ those words held less meaning than when they were spoken aloud.

And if you were to fall down those stairs again, it was entirely logical that you would look at Satoru that way again and sob into his chest.

“Get up.” He said, his expression dropping to numb his horrid thoughts.

Everything had changed. Everything had gotten far darker than he even could have imagined. Your eyes were wide, almost deer like with anticipation of his response.

“Get up.” Satoru softened his tone and it seemingly worked enough to allow you to your feet. So there was no issue with your joints either after taking damage from the impact.

Satoru took to the steps first and waited. Waited until you reached the top behind him all timid and silent.

Then he pushed you.

Your body hitting each step like before and your cursed energy working its way around the body and clicked everything back into place.

He wondered what else your body could take and whether he really had to hold back and be gentle with you anymore.

After that, each time you reanimated, you clung to Satoru just that fraction longer. Every time a slither of your will broke and soon enough, you would be compliant enough to have the privilege of being left on your own again.

In time.

EDIT: ALSO forgot to add, if you’d like anymore Yandere Satoru Gojo or other characters please check out my AO3 where I post all my long stuff and one shots like “sealed fate” which is exclusively Yandere/ dark one shots.

Take care!!