#but you can do so much more with this dynamic

[weaselle]

Early human match ups with animals

Wolves: have a very similar social structure and lifestyle as early humans, benefit greatly from group dynamics -- teaming up with humans allows them greater access to food at less risk, safer sleeping, higher pup survival rate, better protection from the environment. One wolf eats about as much food as one person, so it's a normal member to add to the group in terms of resources.

Cats: have some amount of social overlap (cat sisters often help raise each other's kittens, and grouping approaches common in some cat species, notably in lions, but also for example in cheetahs, where brother cheetahs often stay together for life in groups of up to 4). Humans are HUGE prey attractors for them, drawing in rodents in large numbers - also meaning people don't have to give up their own food to feed them. Human housing is safer from the elements, keeps competitors and dangers like snakes and larger cat species away. Associating with humans gains special grooming and healing unavailable to wild species, such as draining and cleaning abscesses caused by infected bug bites or, very importantly, feeding and caring through a major illness or injury. A wild cat with a broken leg will often die, a human's cat with a broken leg will live to hunt again.

Goats (which we actually turned into Sheep): Herd structure similar enough to human social structure as to be compatible. Guaranteed food during winter and other times of scarcity -- and none of it is human food. Higher offspring survival rate, robust protection from predators and the elements. Horses : same. Cows: same. Deer/caribou: same but a little less so, actually surprisingly good at both fight and flight (cows, specialize in fight, horses specialize in flight) often travel more distance for resources so have better access during lean times; can match but less beneficial to the deer.

Other animals be like

Big cats like Tigers: Why the fuck are there so many of you in one place. This cold doesn't bother me at all because i'm so big my core stays warm. Just what do you think i need protection from? I'm super capable of feeding myself, and even if food is scarce? you have to sacrifice enough food to feed several people to keep me fed, which is a bummer for your group if food is scarce, and i cannot eat your stored food like dried fruits and grains. Your lifestyle is incompatible with mine, i hate everything about being forced to live with you and also it doesn't benefit me at all. Lions: yeah, plus I already have all the group dynamic benefits you could offer me, you're actually the weakest link in my group, be careful or we might outnumber you, being near us all the time greatly increases the number of times murderous male lions attack this group

Bears: Listen. Even if i get injured i'll just eat something that doesn't run from me until i heal (some brown bear populations spend a couple months a year mainly eating moth colonies, they will eat anything, including moss and fungus). This makes me a direct competitor for ALL you food, btw. Speaking of which it takes like 15 people's worth of food to keep me fed. If i get angry someone is definitely going to die. Protection? from what? The most dangerous thing to a bear is another bear, so also you can't really have more than a couple of me in any group, and staying near me greatly increases the chance of some territorial wild bear rolling up to camp with murder on their mind. What do you meeeean keep wandering around actively instead of sleeping in one spot for months at a time? My life is literally worse with you than without you, and your life is probably worse with me around too.

Weasels: Fuck off you can't keep up with me i eat half my body weight in food every day and bite everything near me. Try to contain me and see what happens i'm made out of teeth and murder and cleverness, and destruction of property and theft are my favorite games and i'm basically always bored unless i'm hunting or fighting or fucking with something. What do you meeeean hold still for 30 seconds now i'm mad and you'll basically have to kill me to stop me from going after whatever i want forever. I will absolutely try to murder every other animal you associate with no matter what size it is, and i will totally also eat all of your other food too because i love fruits and fungus and anything else you like to eat probably - you can't keep me out of your food stores and what i don't eat in the moment i'll steal and hide in my own stash for later. Excuse me now i have to sleep for 18 hours i do not understand why you want to keep doing things for so much of the day.

Don't ask me about ferrets they must have been bought with rodent hunting opportunities like the cats, total fluke if you ask me (ferrets are, in fact, domesticated, after more than two thousand years of human intervention. And it's kind of weird that it happened but i think they were the exact right size to make it work)

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

[majinbangus]

will johnny ever punish simon(and how) for playing too rough with you and accidentally hurt you (yk some dog just like that) or doesnt listen to reader or makes reader upset????

follow up question if simon and reader do something and it upset him how will he handle it???

im in LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE with ur guard dog simon and owner johnny reader

i hope you have a good day and win the lottery ❤️

》 18+ i'm glad you're liking my guard dog!ghost series! sorry my answer got a little long but a short way of explaining Ghost's dynamic with reader when it comes to punishments is that he's technically submitting, but he's also not really submissive ygm? he'll go through his punishments, but energy is very much this post. that's what im tryna go for at least -> more here

Accidentally hurting you, Soap can forgive. Ghost is always extremely careful not to seriously hurt you. Yes, he'll be rough and leave you sore or with bruises sometimes, but he still behaves much like the scrupulous guard dog he is, listening to your every command and taking care to protect you from real harm.

As Soap likes too remind you, Ghost is very well trained already, and it's up to you to show him that you can take care of him just as Ghost takes care of you. In fact, Soap is a little harder on you if he catches you slacking, reminding you that a dog like Ghost deserves a responsible owner willing to take care of such a diligent dog.

However, in the rare event that Ghost doesn't do his duty as your guard dog and leaves your side, Soap will get upset, but he would actually leave the punishment up to you (since you're technically Ghost's primary owner. Soap is there to teach you how to be a good owner) and act as the enforcer for whatever punishment you see fit.

So if you wanna make Ghost sleep in a dog crate for a week, Soap will buy the crate and Ghost isn't allowed on the bed. If you want to keep Ghost on a leash until you regain trust in him, Soap is gonna do some leash training with Ghost.

For more sexual punishments, Ghost will be kept in a cock cage for a while so the most he can do is mindlessly rut against you, and Soap will be the one to hold the key to his cage. He'll only unlock Ghost if you say so, but he'll also encourage you to keep Ghost locked because he's a shit he wants you to be a firm dog owner and not give in to Ghost's dog brown eyes that you've developed a soft spot for. When that happens, Ghost might bare his teeth at Soap because he knows what he's doing, but won't do much more because he knows Soap would suggest a cock gag next, that fucker-

(also if you wanna spank Ghost, Soap is will enforce that too)

But these punishments are rare and far in between. Ghost is very disciplined, so they don't happen often, but when they do, Ghost will go through them like a good boy, knowing that he messed up. He'll regain your trust and be an even better dog for you.

Now if you and Simon do something that upset Soap, (like for example, exploring a dangerous alley willingly, even though Ghost told you not to go in, but went with you anyway because you told him the 'quiet' and 'heel' command) you'll get the brunt of the punishment since 'dog behavior is a reflection of your guidance, sweets.'

Ghost won't get a harsh punishment, but he'll have to stay leashed to his crate, watching Soap give you your punishment which could range from all sorts of things, but mostly, it'll be Soap treating you like a dog- a puppy- to show you how to be a good owner.

He'll make you wear a tail plug and have you crawl on all fours. Tell you commands like 'sit pretty' or 'bow' or 'come'. You're not allowed to talk, only bark, and If you can't follow his commands, the longer the punishment will go and the more intense it'll become. Hell, if he's feeling generous, he'll unleash Ghost and make him show you how to be a good dog, letting Ghost correct your behavior. They may even tag team you, and you'll be aching for days, but the lesson will definitely stick.

[toxicanonymity]

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

"He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. 'Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say...'"

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.

Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.

When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“Wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.

When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “Ya got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

[machveil]

Soap x reader x Ghost

( or just Johnny with anyone) he has oral fixation. Doesn't matter it's a cunt oflr a cock, tit or peck, fingers? Anything he can in anytime anywhere.

He might be sucking on his hoodie string if he's out of gums and idle, but in sex? He gets his partner(s) marked with hickeys and bites.

He's the one randomly biting his partner(s) during the day

if I could reach through the screen and kiss your cheek I would jesus christ

CW: Fem!Reader, Johnny has an oral fixation<3, ambiguous on the relationship dynamic - up to your interpretation, no condom, wrap it before you tap it, Johnny x Reader x Simon

Johnny likes to keep his mouth busy - when he isn’t talking he’s got something between his lips. I feel like Johnny was a notorious nail biter growing up. his mother definitely tried to make him stop but eventually gave up because he just kept doing it. he doesn’t bite his nails as much as an adult, but every once in a while he’ll chew and bite off the edge of his nails

Johnny has a thing for wearing hoodies. they’re big, warm, comfortable, and the laces for the hood are nice to chew on. he tends to wear black ones to the gym so you can’t tell the laces are coated in spit and drool as easily. he’s definitely borrowed a hoodie from Simon briefly only to return it with spit soaked laces. Simon didn’t even bat an eye, just shrugged it off and put it on. sometimes Simon gets a hoodie back and the sleeve cuffs have been chewed and slobbered on, but that never deters him from lending Johnny his clothes

Johnny will absentmindedly suck on your fingers while you’re lounging. when you’re cuddled together his mouth is latching onto you, anything his mouth can reach. he doesn’t even notice, eyes glued to tv as he uses your index and middle fingers as a pacifier, gently sucking on them and coating them in his warm saliva. he’s so comfortable against you when he does it, eyes half lidded and body limp - he doesn’t even register how he’s got your fingers down to the knuckle resting on his tongue

Simon’s neck is littered with hickeys, easily hidden behind his balaclava. Johnny can’t help himself, tucked against Simon’s side as he mouths at his throat. it’s nice, Simon’s got his arms around his waist - a nice, secure hold. his brain gets to turn off while he dumbly sucks on his skin, red marks blooming against Simon’s neck and shoulders. it soothes Johnny, lets his mind go somewhere else while he sucks another hickey against Simon’s neck, shifting closer with a small whine caught in his throat

Johnny’s mouth is all yours to use, he’s begged for you to use it before. sometimes sucking and gnawing on items and clothes isn’t enough for him, he needs you. you can’t be upset with Johnny, not when he’s buried his head between your legs, lazily sucking on your clit. he’s solely focused on working his mouth, not aware of his stiff cock straining against his pants. he’s got your hips pushed down, ready to eat you out until he’s done. deaf to your whines and pleas, he’s moaning against your cunt as his eyes flutter shut

Johnny who’s kneeling on the floor, idly sucking on Simon’s fat cock. he’s got a rugby match on the tv, one hand in Johnny’s hair, the other cradling a beer bottle. Johnny’s more than content where he is, nose to Simon’s pelvis, jaw slack as he breathes out through his nose. the weight of his cock on Johnny’s tongue is so good, and Simon’s being nice - hips still and petting him, rough hand gently scratching at his scalp. Simon only thrusts a little when Johnny starts to nod off, eyes drooping shut and drool trailing down his chin

Johnny’s favorite thing? having to sit still, whining as he watches Simon mercilessly fuck you. Simon told him to be good, gave him two commands. “Open.”, Johnny was so eager to begin with, thought Simon was going to fuck his face, turn his brain to mush. he was wrong, but equally excited when Simon guided a dildo into his mouth, “Suck, Johnny.”. his heartbeat was rapid, ringing in his ears, whining as he did what he was told. Simon murmured a quick ‘good boy’, leaving Johnny to watch as he filled you. maybe it was mean, but it was doing something to the poor man, especially when he saw a trickle of white bead out of your slit

Simon knew what he was doing, had a plan going into this. watching you writhe beneath him, head dipping down to mark your neck up - leaving his own hickeys to match Johnny’s. he knows Johnny’s watching, the way his cock stretches you out, bullies it’s way in and out of you. absolutely filthy, his hips stuttering before he’s spilling into you. just a couple times, he forces his hips to buck again, fucking his cum into you, warmth spreading in your tummy as you cry out. Simon can hear the wet sucking behind him, doesn’t have to look to know Johnny has that dildo down his throat, eyes glossy and chin slick

Simon’s nice, lazily pulls out of you after his third orgasm. despite his exhaustion, the overstimulation he feels, he gets up. Johnny can’t help but whine when Simon slowly pulls the dildo from his mouth, teary eyes looking up at the Brit. his desperation is sated though, excitement coursing through his veins as Simon gently grabs his chin. “Good mutt.”, voice hoarse, Simon smiles down at him, “Go clean your toy up, yeah?”. Simon takes Johnny’s place, sitting down. dark brown eyes watching as Johnny settles between your legs, head dipping down to lap at your cunt as you hiccup

[sapphicslaylist]

People with this mentality towards him do not understand the dynamics which he falls under. He is codependent, very actively so; he is more than happy to have pain inflicted on him for her happiness and wait on her hand and foot. He wants to reward her for existing despite how much suffering it causes him. What happened in HEA was not deliberately malicious; was it wrong? Absolutely. But it was, in his eyes, an act of love to die and suffer for her and weave a “better” world.

What he struggles with is actually being able to listen to those who do not return his feelings, because he takes it as a character flaw unto himself. That it’s because HE isn’t worthy of her. So opposed to listening, he tries to convince her and himself that he is worthy of whatever she desires. HEA is the one place where he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t be happy; I’m his eyes, she was in a gorgeous palace being treated like a queen. What else could she possibly want? I don’t think he was lashing out at her as much as distressed that he could not make her happy. And that she was afraid of losing him or having him inflict worse onto himself in the end.

The route and his character actively strips away the romanticism of “unconditional love” in the form of self sacrifice. This is a really important message to those who’ve gone through it or been convinced that hurting is the only way to show you love someone. It is a VERY important message - that not all knights in shining armor can help no matter how much they want to. He is just as much a victim as the Princess in many routes, even if his ways of enacting it are far too forward and concerning. The “I would die for you” trope is NOT healthy to be taught.

It saddens me that people dismiss this, because it’s very much a message that the game does beautifully. You have to listen, not assume that you have to hurt yourself and bleed out.

I keep on hearing people go all "The voice of the Smitten is such a creep. All he wants in the princess is someone to control and keep as a pretty object. He'd drop the princess if she wasn't the perfect petite maiden like in the damsel route." and I will not stand for the Smitten slander.

Like- He's been in love with her as a burning corpse ghost lady:

A terrifying ghost woman who wants to bring fear and chaos to the world:

And even a murderous blade monster woman who would kill you and enjoy every second of it:

Like, he ALWAYS loves the princess no matter what she looks like or how she acts, he loves her for being herself no matter what or who she is. That's the point of his character and I'm tired of people slandering my boy.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

60 / 3.9k / part 4 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader

kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise

...

Gaz's hands slide back down, and his palms are warm and rough over your belly and hips. It's all he can do not to crush you against his chest and take what he wants. He can't stand how helpless you look.

Soap's eyes are on your legs. His hands nearly engulf your calves. He hooks his fingers under your knees to open your legs further.

You watch them softly, offering yourself to them in your trance.

nsfw ⬇

Gaz watches Soap dip his head and run his teeth over your calves. "Stay still," Gaz repeats. "It's easy to do what we ask. Isn't it?"

"Uhm..." You shift your hips at the ticklish feeling Soap's mouth is giving you.

Soap glances up from your legs to your face. Your eyelids droop, breath steady and body warm. He strokes your leg with his thumb and then slides his hand higher, making a low sound in his chest. "You don't need to answer yet."

"Okay."

Gaz's hands shift lower. His claw-tips brush the waistline of your shorts. "I’m curious. You said before--humans mate for fun just like mer do." Gaz's voice is still low and sweet, and his hands slide up and down your lower stomach. He pushes your shirt up an inch. "How long had it been since you've mated with another human?"

"I dunno." A lazy, obvious lie.

"Yeah?" Gaz's fingers move ever so slowly up to your chest. "Have you never been mated before? You want to know how it feels?"

You look away and watch Soap, who in turn watches Gaz lift your tattered shirt higher on your body.

"Or it's been a while," Gaz murmurs. "Long enough for you to be needy."

Soap, to his credit, keeps his nature in check. As much as he wants to seize what he wants with both hands, he's stock-still. His eyes are ravenous at the edges of your torn clothes.

Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. You're dimly aware of the cold air and sea spray reaching your chest as he pulls your tattered shirt away. His hands feel so good. Soap leans forward, and his tongue, rough and warm, slides up the swell of your breast and scrapes against your nipple. You jolt. But Soap’s weight in front of you and Gaz at your back keep you where you are.

Gaz studies you as you surface briefly and squirm. He’s enthralled with you the way he is with everything else he can see from the water but never touch. Rare and prized. A human--something he's wanted in his grasp for so long, and now that has you in his greedy hands, he's determined to smudge his fingerprints across every shiny inch.

"Let him feel you," Gaz murmurs, a hand sliding up and under your neck, tilting your head up until his breath fans down your neck. "Let me see."

Soap's tongue drifts down your sternum and against your belly as he lowers his head. You shift. The urge to stir within this pleasant dream grows the more their hands and mouths run over you. It’s too good. Gaz's hypnotic suggestions can't quite quell your body's natural instincts to buck and move with idle pleasure under their touches. Your eyelids flutter. Your limbs are full of mercury, heavy and liquid. Gaz's voice floats over you, and his hands roam every inch that Soap hasn't already covered.

Gaz's hand slides from your neck into your hair and pulls your head back to kiss your open, panting mouth. The movement makes your back arch. Soap takes full advantage. He nips at your tits with shark teeth.

You gasp, hips jerking forward, and momentarily surface from the trance with Gaz's tongue in your mouth, Soap's teeth on your chest, his hands squeezing your tits, and two of Gaz's fingers pressing down on your core through your shorts. You're already pushing your hips up against his fingers, waking up in the middle of the act your body has already acquiesced to.

Your groan of confusion is swallowed by Gaz's mouth on yours. He keeps your mouth open and your chin tilted up as his fingers work you over your shorts. You can’t hide how you respond--your hips move to press more sensitive nerve endings against his claws.

Soap feels your chest push out as you swallow your complaints. "She supposed to be waking up?" Soap mutters drunkenly with his mouth full of tits.

But Gaz isn't shocked. "She likes this," he replies. "Feel."

Soap's hand joins Gaz's, and you feel his thick, rough fingers push against your core alongside Gaz's. You're already wet and responsive. He groans a curse against your skin.

As Gaz pulls away, your hips keep circling and your eyes begin to close again. Your wet folds stick to the fabric of your panties, slick and cold. "Nn, what's happening?"

Gaz looks down at your half-lidded expression. "I'm afraid we're taking our time with you."

"Hard to keep your eyes closed when you enjoy it so much," Soap says. His hands slide up your thighs and back down again like he’s deciding what part of you to touch next.

Gaz's thumb slips down against your core again and presses down harder. You pant and let your head fall back against his chest. You try to remember why you shouldn't be doing this, but it just seems so much easier to let it happen. To let it feel good. They're just curious about you. About your human body. Right?

You feel Gaz's hand slide around your torso again, pulling you closer. He guides your legs open and you feel Soap slot his body between them. His body is so warm and heavy. Gaz rubs you from behind you as Soap's mouth works your chest again, all slick tongue and mouth.

Gaz’s clawed fingertips hook the tattered fabric of your shorts and pull gently. The fabric begins coming off in downy strips. Soap's mouth is on your core before it's all stripped away, tongue lapping at you between strings of saltwater-soaked polyester.

Gaz’s chest vibrates behind you again, and his hands slide over your legs and hips. Soap's mouth works between your legs, and Gaz slides his fingers through your hair and over your shoulder. "How does she feel?"

"S'all soft," Soap mumbles. He slides his hands under your thighs to keep you open.

You wriggle against the odd sensation of Soap lapping circles around your hole and finally sliding in. His tongue is so big and wet. It goes so deep. You feel dizzy.

Gaz watches--feels--your hips moving against Soap's mouth with half-open eyes and parted lips. You grab Gaz's arm with one hand, digging your nails into his forearm in your haze. Your other hand goes to Soap's hair, grasping the wet strands roughly. Soap groans against you. His fingers dig into your thighs and he pushes your hips back to him. He wants more. He wants to pull you against his mouth and work you harder, but it’s difficult with you in Gaz’s lap. He hands slide up to grip your hips.

"Ah..." You feel Gaz's cock emerge from its sheath underneath you and squirm, dizzy. You should pull away, but then you feel yourself tightening up around Soap's tongue. "W-Wait, I can't--"

The plea turns into a cry as an unexpected climax seizes you. You clamp down hard on Soap's tongue, your legs trying to squeeze together despite his hands holding them apart. He doesn't stop. Not until Gaz pulls you away from him to lay you on the gravel on your side, your back still pressed to his chest.

You remember again you should protest. But at what? In his hands or Soap's--it should make no difference. Your pussy felt so good with Soap’s tongue inside it. His saliva is all over your slit, mixed with your fluids, coating your thighs.

Gaz’s lust makes him restless. He wants to leave his mark on you. He nips the shell of your ear, his hand sliding to your hair again. You bump back against his cock, standing ready so close to your pussy. Your hips shy away, but he doesn't let you go far.

He bites and grinds against you. The friction isn’t enough. His hand slides down to your hip, his nails sliding along your lower belly.

He wants you but he doesn't want to break you. He has to compromise. With his hands on your hips, he slides his length through your slippery thighs.

You gasp at the feeling against your oversensitive outer core. You stare down to see him poking out from between your thighs, glimmering with your slick and Soap's spit. He's big. So big. Maybe too much to handle. But you can't hide your real thoughts as he slides his hand lower to rub your poor swollen clit and feel how wet you still are.

You squeak and gasp. Every roll of his hips is going to skewer you, you just know it.

"Gods, human," he growls. It has nothing to do with the shark-like parts of his brain. His chest rumbles against your back, and his breathing is heavy in your ear. You have him so riled up that it's all he can do not to bite you hard enough to draw blood now. "I'd hurt you if we did this," Gaz whispers, his breath hot against your neck. He groans softly as he slides through your slickness. "We'd hurt you, wouldn't we?"

You're sensitive and wet and close, and you don't want his perfect hands and perfect voice and perfect length to go away. "No, ah--! Put it in!"

He grips your waist and pulls you harder against him. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Put it in, please.” You try to angle your hips back toward him even while he stops you.

He makes a sound of heated irritation. The vibrations resonate through your body and make your thighs clench harder.

"You might regret this," Gaz says. The more you beg and plead the more his mind is clouded by the need he feels.

But the look Soap is giving you. Like he wants you just as badly as Gaz does but in a dozen worse ways. And you know he knows what you're asking for, too.

Gaz must see you looking at Soap, because he snarls and thrusts between your thighs, jerking you back roughly in time with his movements. You cry out in surprise and delight. The gravel bites into your arm and hip, but you're too dazed and ecstatic to care.

"Use me," you pant.

Soap looms closer. His hands slide over your body and he licks a hot path up your neck to your jaw. He mouths your earlobe and his shark teeth graze your neck. "You wanna get hurt, hen?"

"Mm!"

Soap pulls your face up to meet his. It's a chaotic kiss--teeth, tongue, open-mouthed and messy the way he likes it. He can't get close enough.

All the while, Gaz's hands are on your hips, your waist, your thighs. He's biting at your neck and shoulders and growling into your ear. "We don't want to hurt her," he hisses. But his claws leave tiny pricks in the skin where his grips you.

You're lost between them. Soap bites your bottom lip and it stings with saltwater. Gaz angles his hips up to keep himself from sliding inside you, and you moan desperately for more stimulation.

You're so close to having him inside. You know how much he wants he wants to stretch his way inside. And Soap's teeth are on your neck again, his hands exploring, wanting to touch so much of you as your mouth is occupied with his. You're so small and soft, so warm and receptive. He wants to do whatever will make you feel good. He's dizzy with it all.

You squeeze your thighs together around Gaz's length. If he won't use you the way you want, you'll just make him feel good like this. You have to.

Gaz groan of pleasure blows through your hair. His hypnosis was too effective. Not only are you docile enough to let them play with you--you want this so bad it's driving him over the edge of his cratering willpower.

Soap's teeth are sharp and his tongue is warm, and for a moment you just lean back to let him take control of your open mouth. He's got your chin tilted up with the pressure of his lips alone, and his tongue slithers along yours to pull the taste of you from your mouth. One hand comes up to squeeze your jaw, keeping your head tilted forward, and your body is so small—so easy—that it's so natural for his other hand to wrap around your neck.

As soon as his hand tightens gingerly, you moan. Gaz tenses up behind you. Then he starts railing your thighs for all he's worth.

They both feel the moment change. It's like a switch is flipped.

Gaz feels how wet you get once Soap's hand tightens around your neck, and he leans down and kisses you. Gaz's lips graze your neck, too gentle at first, and then the kiss turns into a bite. His teeth sink in, breaking the skin and making you cry out. He empties himself between your thighs, thrusting furiously.

You squeal with pain until his movements grow languid. The sharp pain clears the fog in your mind somewhat as his mouth unlatches from your shoulder. Your neck is stinging, your skin and muscles protesting. Gaz kisses the mark he left. Your hips are going to be sore and covered in bruises come tomorrow. You push on Soap's chest, trying to get your bearings.

He hardly notices your comparatively small human hands pressing against him and doesn't budge. He laps at Gaz's bite mark on your shoulder. He needs more. He pulls you forward into him to press his length against your core.

"Help me help you," he says, voice low and rough.

"Wait, it's--” Your voice wavers. Too big. You think it's too big--he wonders if you really mean it, or if you're just afraid. It's big, and big is dangerous. But you're not supposed to say no. You're supposed to agree. You're supposed to let it happen.

Soap glances up at Gaz with an expectant look.

Gaz looks down on you, laid out under Soap, with dark eyes. "Don't fuss," he murmurs. "You remember why?"

You gasp as Soap ruts against you. Your mind is tattered, buzzing with the desire to lay down and be easy--but just as much with the need to orient yourself, Gaz's hypnotic voice be damned.

"Just lie back and let Soap feel how good you are," he says. His voice feels distant now. Your thoughts are scrambled, and it's still too hard to listen to your instincts.

You arch as Soap ruts again, your struggling turning into pleased overstimulation.

He feels the fight going out of you. It's about time. You need relief, he’s certain. You need someone to make the right choice for you. Soap flips you onto your stomach. His hands are all over you, dragging down your sides, shifting your hips, spreading your thighs. "Such a convenient place for a hole," Soap says, smirking. He circles your entrance with a big fingertip.

Before you can decide whether to protest or not, he sinks his finger into your tight heat. You gasp, pitching forward with your forearms onto the rough gravel.

Soap slides his finger back and forth curiously. He plunges another inch every thrust. You're so wet he doubts you can feel anything but the size of him. You certainly don't seem to mind how big his fingers are. Or his claws gliding past your walls. In fact, the deeper he goes, the more you press your hips back into his hand. His smirk turns into a crooked grin. "Think she likes this, aye?"

"No argument there," Gaz says. He coils in front of you on the gravel and pulls your chin up to look at him. With your head angled up, he sees the flush on your face and the dazed look in your eyes. He tucks some hair behind your ear. Your neck is marked where he bit you. It's not even bleeding, but it's bruised and shiny. His eyes darken.

His teeth marks span most of your shoulder. His hands, too, are bigger than yours. He could wrap the entire lower half of your face in his fingers to keep you in place. To guide your mouth where he wants. The idea is more than a little attractive. "She's so small we can touch everything at once," he muses.

"Think she’d like that?”

Gaz looks at him and smirks. "She doesn't seem to be doing a lot of thinking right now."

You gaze up at him as best you can. Your eyes are half-lidded. You grasp his hand with one of yours, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to run up his fingers.

"So, so small," he says. His thumb and index finger pinch your jaw. "Careful," he murmurs, voice low. "Watch those teeth."

His thumb goes to your plush bottom lip, slips into your mouth, and rests gently over your tongue. You hollow your cheeks. The suction is too gentle to stimulate him the way he'd need, really. He shifts to lay out in front of you and presses down on your tongue to keep your mouth open. "You've got no room for me in that pretty mouth of yours, do you?"

"Ahn?" you reply dimly.

Your pink tongue and tiny human teeth fascinate him. He can't believe something so small and harmless is dangerous enough to have earned you a place at the top of the food chain on land. He's even more fascinated by the way you're sucking on his thumb and rubbing it against your tongue’s rough, warm surface. He chuckles and shifts his hand under your chin again to hold you in place. "No, a little human thing like you hasn't got room for one of us," he says. "All I'd have to do is push a little, and you'd be full up."

Soap groans. "Fuck, yes." He worms a second finger into you and you squeal.

He's careful--he really is. Soap might be a bit rough sometimes, but this is nothing compared to his usual way of doing things. Gaz's eyes follow the line of your throat you arch back.

He looks up at Soap and his smirk turns vicious. "You getting something out of this?"

Soap's gaze flicks up. He adds another finger and you whine. "What, it's a competition?"

"When is it not?"

While they bicker, you bend yourself into position after position to better take Soap's fingers. You finally manage to ease all three in and grind your hips back against him with a heavy breath. You're dripping--not just with Gaz's spend, but with your own slick.

Just then, right as you’re starting to rapturously enjoy all three fingers, he's pulling them out of you and positioning himself between your legs.

Soap puts his hands on your hips and looks up to see the stare Gaz is giving him. "I was playing fair," Soap argues, dropping back into the mer-tongue. "You weren't."

"Watch your size," Gaz warns. "Don't play too much and hurt her. She's small."

"Why? You want another turn after I'm done?" Soap says.

It’s not that. That's what Gaz's eyes say. In fact, he doesn’t much care for Soap having a turn at all. Gaz wants to fill you full by himself and keep you that way.

But his lips stay clamped shut. Soap gives him a knowing, sly smile.

"Don't get greedy," Gaz says. There's bite in his tone. "She’s my catch."

Soap lets it go for now. His attention drifts back to you and all the things he could do.

You rut backward impatiently. "What are you talking about?" you ask.

"Don't mind us," Soap says, grinning. "We're just figuring out how we're going to play with you."

He pushes himself against you and the size difference is enough to make him pause. He could just press you into the gravel without any effort. He would love to use you in so many ways, but he's holding back. He doesn't want to break Gaz's apparent hypnotic hold on you.

You sigh and push back against him. You manage to catch his tip in your folds, but you can't quite make it go in. Soap hisses softly at the feeling. It's all he can do to keep from pushing all the way in to your wet warmth. Instead, he leans forward and plants his hands on the hard ground, surrounding your body with his arms and waiting for you to move.

You try bouncing backward, riding his tip, determined to take him in. You don't fully understand how much trouble that will be until you ease yourself back enough to stretch your pussy as far as three of his fingers had. You glance back to see you haven't taken him all in yet--not even close. Then you feel a strange bump up against your clit and look down to see him sporting not one cock, but two.

"Oh," you say in a distant voice.

"Not too observant for a human," Gaz says. But then, it's partly his fault you're too focused on trying to bury some cock in you to notice they both have two.

Your gasp turns into a long, breathy moan as Soap pushes into you a few more inches. You're slick and ready inside, but you slide your legs apart further, needing to take more but unsure how you'll make it fit.

"Easy on her," Gaz says again. "She can't take all of you."

Soap looks back at Gaz, his eyes dark. "You seem awfully concerned about her all of a sudden."

Gaz scoffs. "I just know you. I know how impatient you are."

You ease back and circle your hips until you've seated him as deep as you can. Then an inch deeper. Soon enough you're rocking back and forth, fucking yourself of on him and making terse, dreamy sounds of need. Soap lets out a ragged breath. It's a squeeze, but worth it. So worth it. How'd Gaz find one that feels so good?

You spread your legs as far as you can to accommodate his girth. You feel air-tight, like it should hurt, but every tiny movement you make sets your nerve endings alight. There's pain in your palms against the sharp gravel, dull scraping against your kneecaps, and an impossible heat burning in your lower stomach. Pleasure-pain glazes your already-distant eyes.

Soap begins fucking you slowly. Not that he holds much concern for your strange human senses and boundaries--it's more that he wants you nice and tame. Gaz notices that hesitation despite being distracted with your moaning and begging and wiggling as Soap spears into you steadily over and over.

"Thought you wanted to break her," Gaz says. He speaks your language to taunt both you and Soap.

Soap grins. "You went to all this trouble to hypnotize her. Wouldn't want to jostle her too hard, aye?"

Gaz smirks. "Don't worry about that, mate. You know there's no way to hypnotize someone who's unwilling."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

You hear Soap smirking as he says, "You aren't going anywhere, are you now?"

He presses into you with a long, deep stroke that turns your protest into a shuddering moan.

"Told you she wouldn't run," Soap says.

After that, you can't manage much coherent thought at all.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist

[reallychaoticwoo]

Can you do an ATEEZ reaction to their girlfriend squirting on them for the first time?

⛓️ Yess! Lord help me cause honestly the thought of this has me absolutely feral! 🤤🫠⛓️

✨️ Do It Again ✨️

❤️Pairing: Ateez x reader

📌 Masterlist

⚠️Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY!! cussing, squirting (obvs), fingering, oral (f receiving), face riding, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup!), dom/sub dynamics, use of pet names (daddy, sir, babe, baby, darling, my love, etc) rough sex, clawing, overstimulation, slight bondage, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything 🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Please support your authors by liking, reblogging, or even just leaving a comment! I love interacting with comments and reblogs they honestly make my day. As always, I hope you enjoy!🖤

HONGJOONG:

His fingers buried themselves deep inside you for the 4th time tonight as your release washed over you (and him). His eyes widened and his once concentrated face morphed into that of a predator. "Oh sweetheart, you didn't tell me you could do that." Something between fear and arousal circulated deep inside you as you awaited his next words. "Oh I am going to have so much fun seeing how many times I can make you squirt for me, my love. I hope you're ready." His final word spoken just as his fingers entered your overly sensitive cunt for a 5th time.

SEONGHWA:

Your legs trembled and your back arched as you screamed, your orgasm rushing through you like never before. He lifted his face from your core, his pupils blown, and his face glistening. He chuckled darkly as he snaked up your body to meet your lips."Darling, did you know you could do that and didn't tell me?" You shook your head frantically, "N..No! I didn't know I promise!" He hummed to himself as he thought over your words. "Well, you made quite the mess. I suppose I won't punish you for it... IF my sweet girl can squirt for me again before I cum." He swiftly snapped his hips forward burying himself to the hilt. "Starting now." He said as he reared back and thrust inside again.

YUNHO:

He was balls deep in your cunt, thrusting hard and deep. His tip kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips. Your slick walls clenched around him as your arms gave out and you fell face first into the mattress. "Fuccckk I didn't know you could do that baby." He practically growled as he began picking up speed, his own release threatening to snap. "One more baby, give me one more please, fuck that was so hot!" His voice closer than before as he bent forward to whisper in your ear. His hand placed on the back of your neck pushing you further into the bed as his thrusts grew frantic. A few thrusts later and your release sprayed all over as his own was pumping deep inside.

YEOSANG:

His eyes were blown out as you bounced yourself up and down, your warm tight walls clenching down on his length as you chased your orgasm. Your head fell back as you bottomed out, euphoria washing over your body. He held you hips and bucked up into you, elongating your release. "Shit... shit that was so sexy." You smiled down at him as you slowly started moving your hips again. "If you can get me to do it again before you cum, I'll wake you up to head for a week. How's that sound Sangie?" He thrust his hips up into you once before answering "Sounds like a challenge I am going to enjoy either way baby. You're on."

SAN:

Your back was up against the wall and your legs hanging over his arms as he thrust into you with such primal force. You clawed down his back as you let go, soaking the two of you in your essence. He glared down at where your bodies met and smirked with nothing but pure sin in his eyes. "Oh, oh you've fucked up babygirl. Gonna make you do that again and again. Gonna take this cock all fucking night right princess?" You gulped, already fucked out, and managed to mumble, "Yes sir. Gonna take what daddy gives me." He resumed his brutal pace without warning before whispering in your ear, "Good girl."

MINGI:

Your thighs were straddling his face as he blissfully lost himself in your cunt. Out of all the things he loved, you riding his face had to be in the top five. A particularly sharp suck on your clit sent you over the edge as you tried to keep from falling forward. He did not let up as you squirted all over his face, his tongue hungrily begging for more as it lapped at your folds. Once you caught your breath you sat back on his chest. "Shit, oh my god are you okay Min?? I didn't know that was gonna happen!" He just smiled still drunk of your pussy before he answered, "Drown me again please, pretty please baby!" He didn't even wait for a reply before he grabbed your hips and moved you back to his face.

WOOYOUNG:

The thing about you and Woo that works so well is that you're both bratty as fuck. Although you both liked to test the limits, Woo almost always ended up on top and in charge. Tonight was no different. You laid back against the bed, hands tied to the headboard, your legs spread apart by a spreader bar, and Woo between your thighs with a magic wand grinning manically. You were so overly sensitive from the hour he'd been edging you that tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you cum. And the second he said "Cum for me sweetie" your orgasm washed over you like a hurricane threatening to destroy your very existence. As you slowly came back to, your vision finally returning, you looked to Woo. His cheshire smirk only grew as he met your eyes before practically growling, "Do it again."

JONGHO:

You were feeling especially needy tonight. Rubbing yourself on his thigh as he tried to relax from a long day. "That's it baby bear, doesn't that feel good?" He asked as his hands moved in tandem with your hips adding some much needed pressure. "Y-yes..ssoo good.. gonna cum soon.." You moaned as you began to pick up your pace. You buried your face in his neck, needy whines escaping your lips as you slowly reached your climax. His hands moving your hips for you, slowly dragging you back and forth as your rode out your high. "Sweet baby bear, did you just squirt on my thigh?" You mumbled something incoherent. "Lay down baby. We're gonna go again until you do that on my dick, understand?" You nodded, chest still heaving as you laid back for him. "Yes please sir."

‼️TAG LISTS FOR GENERAL ATEEZ CONTENT ARE OPEN! I do also have tag lists for individual members if you like to be added to that.

[mailuvsjayke]

Listening and watching the no doubt mv, that hyung line might be into semi public sex LIKE THEY BE UP DOING THE NASTY AT WORK 😭😩

18+ mdni

note: mmm nonnie just think about it!!!!

imagine being hyung line's higher up, often looked with admiration and respect by others in the office because of your position, but what the employees don't know is the fact that each of them like to fuck you real good in your office !!!!!!!

Heeseung is like a partner to you, your right hand man, the person you'd go to when you need to deal with heaps of documents and tasks to at least keep you at bay.

And in return you'd let him fuck your throat real good and make sure his cock memorizes how it feels being wrapped around by your warm cavern, dripping with saliva and drool, somehow finding a way to force your throat deeper down his dick so good you dont even know if it's possible. He'd make sure to fuck it real hard you'd be hoarse during your next group meeting just to poke teases and fun at you afterwards.

Jay, more firm, and definitely sharp, rather wanting to express his appreciation silently through acts of good workmanship, such as bringing you coffee and offering to take over charge for other employees to keep you on your feet during busy weeks.

And in return you'd let him fuck you onto your work table, legs mounted on his shoulders without bothering to put important documents to the side, making sure he'll cum over and over inside you until your belly bulges against your high waisted pencil skirt. Your company had soon complained to you in the future about how much paper has been wasted, probably from you having to secretly reprint several documents due to both of your juices ruining them.

Jake's like a typical golden retriever, open to obeying you, not hesitating to do tasks when told, and his attendance is nearly perfect, as well as helping others around him no matter the status. And he never forgets to greet you or give you a short relay of everything you need to do for the week.

In return you'd let him eat you out, stuffed up in some random room in the building, the more you cum the deeper he burrows his nose into your poor and abused cunt without pause. His whimpers and pants turning you on and sending your already overstimulated cunt a new bolt of pleasure and wetness. Even when you're crying and thrashing against his face, he just won't let up, only looking at you with that grin, only to plunge back in to fuck you with his tongue a little harder. Janitors have been complaining about odd sticky stains around random rooms, though you don't dare address it.

Sunghoon, one of your younger employees, despite not being so engaging and rather silent, he's sharp and gets his work done without struggle, submitting his tasks to you earlier than intended and seeing his gaze linger a little too long on you before he quietly offers to take over other people's unfinished tasks to get closer to you.

In return you'd let him in, letting him fuck your holes for every task he'd finish, making sure to get the chance to cum anywhere in or on you to grab what he can when he knows the others are doing the exact same. He's watched you fucked them, memorizing what pleasures you the most, and whispering how he'd do so much better than them, how you only need him and he could fulfill every part of you. Employees have started to question why tasks are suddenly being dismissed from them, not knowing you secretly allow sunghoon to accomplish them all just to get a chance to fuck you in that lust filled office room of yours.

After giving them back what you owe all the time, coming into work so sore and so open, your mind riddled with thoughts of all four of them, you wonder if they'd be willing to fuck you all at once.

Yet you know how taboo these work dynamics are, are you really willing to put your career on the line for some quick fucks?

-------

i was just gonna post this by itself until nonnie said this and decided to just answer their ask with the little drabble i made for no doubt

bro jake and heeseung were so insane i literally busted a nut

sorry i went mia for a bit luvs</3

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Would you like to see Han and Felix?" Hyunjin asked softly, his voice gentle as she rested against his chest. She had just gone through an intense session of cleaning her wounds, and the exhaustion was evident on her face. Her omega side, still unsettled, wasn’t allowing her to heal as quickly as she would have liked.

"C-can I see Han? I’m not sure about Felix," she murmured, glancing up at him, her eyes a little tired and distant. Hyunjin’s hands were slowly running through her hair, his touch tender and soothing.

"Why not Felix?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he studied her face. The uncertainty in her voice had him puzzled.

"I’m not ready to see him... just know that," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. Her voice held a firmness, but it was clear there was more to the situation that she wasn’t ready to share.

Hyunjin felt a small shift in her scent—although it still carried that faint offness, it grew even more sour, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

"Alright, we don’t have to talk about it," he said softly, understanding that pressing her wasn’t going to help. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the warmth of his lips offering a small comfort. He definitely knew the reason behind her reluctance—it was the pregnancy. He could piece it together now, the signs, the subtle shifts in her behavior. She was still processing it all, and he knew it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss just yet.

He kissed her forehead again, then slid his hand down to her lower back, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. His movements were slow and calming, trying to ease the tension in her body as she lay against him. He could feel her drifting, her body growing heavier with sleep.

"Rest now," he whispered softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up." And with that, he continued to gently caress her back, waiting patiently for her to fall into a peaceful slumber.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"How is she doing?"

"She's gone back to sleep, Hyung," Hyunjin replied, his voice quiet as he closed Y/N's bedroom door behind him. The soft click of the door echoed in the stillness, but it did little to ease the heavy tension hanging in the air.

"Has she asked for anyone?" Leeknow’s voice trembled slightly, his posture stiff as he glanced anxiously at Hyunjin. His eyes were still a dull gray, and his concern was written all over his face. He hadn’t even tried to calm his own alpha down, knowing it would be pointless. The stress was too much, even for him.

"No, she asked for Han," Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples as they walked down the corridor, hand in hand. "Her wounds are taking a long time to heal. That's my worry," he continued, his tone weary and filled with concern.

"Do we need to bring one of the Umma's from the village?" Leeknow asked, looking up at the beta with desperation in his eyes. While Hyunjin was known as the best healer in the pack, the village grandmothers had been the ones tending to their kind for generations—long before Chan had taken over. They were old now, retired from their duties, but Leeknow would do whatever it took. If it meant tracking them down, he'd do it without hesitation.

"No, it’s okay, love," Hyunjin answered, giving Leeknow a soft look. "I can handle it. I just need to go through the ancestral scrolls and find something stronger." He knew that his own abilities had limits, but he was determined to make it work.

"This is serious, Hyunjin," Leeknow’s voice softened, his expression solemn. "Werewolves don't lose pups. If you need help..." He trailed off, his eyes searching Hyunjin's face, trying to gauge the weight of the situation.

For centuries, werewolves were known to have the strongest blood. Miscarriages and abortions were unheard of—something they all took for granted. This was a new, terrifying reality for Hyunjin. He’d never faced something like this before.

"Leeknow, I said it’s okay," Hyunjin snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. "Don’t question my abilities." He growled, stepping back from his alpha, frustration and fear bubbling beneath the surface.

"Hey, watch it," Leeknow’s voice darkened, a quiet warning. No one in the pack—especially not a beta—ever stepped up to him like that. Hyunjin's lip quivered at the reprimand, and finally, he broke.

"I’m sorry, Hyung," Hyunjin whispered, his shoulders sagging. "This is just so messed up. She's broken, completely... and she's slowly rejecting our bond. If she completely rejects us... we could—"

"No," Leeknow interrupted sharply, pulling Hyunjin into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around him, trying to offer comfort. They sank down onto the bed together, Leeknow gently massaging Hyunjin’s scalp as they sat in silence. "Don't say that," he whispered, his voice cracking with fear. "We just need to find a way to get Chan in there without her... without her freaking out."

"She won’t allow it, she doesn't even want to see Felix because of the pup," Hyunjin said, his voice heavy with defeat. "Her omega is already convinced we did nothing to protect her. Don’t you feel it, babe?" He looked up at Leeknow, his eyes filled with sorrow. The burn in their marks was unmistakable—the sign that one of them was suffering deeply. In this case, it was Y/N.

"I know," Leeknow replied, his voice calm but tinged with sadness. "We’ll be okay, Hyunjin. We just need to figure out a way to keep Felix away for now." He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, trying to stay strong for both of them.

Hyunjin nodded, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the new tattoo on his arm—a symbol of the new life entering their pack. "I don’t know how she’ll handle seeing him. And he can’t seem to stop begging to see her," he said quietly. "I’m second in command, but right now, it feels like I’m failing," Leeknow sighed.

"We’re in this together," Hyunjin reassured him softly. "We just need to distract him—take him down to the streams or the village to play with the kids, or get him to do some charity work. Anything to keep him occupied."

"Yeah," Leeknow agreed, his voice low. "Right now, he's out shopping for the baby with I.N." He let out a small sigh. "At least he’s not here making things worse."

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with unspoken fears. They were still going to be dads, even though they had just lost one of their pups. The harsh reality was settling in—life had to move on, whether they were ready or not.

"Are Chan and Changbin Hyung back?" Hyunjin asked, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

"No," Leeknow replied. "They went with the hyungs to track and hunt the rogues. They told me to stay and watch over everything." So that was where Chan and Changbin had disappeared to—off with the elders, tracking rogues in the forest.

"Alright," Hyunjin said, standing up and stretching. "I’m going to go check on her again. If you find Han, tell him to come, but only if he's strong enough." Hyunjin let go of Leeknow's hand slowly, his fingers lingering for a moment.

"Okay," Leeknow said, his voice firm, though still quiet. "Be strong for me, okay? I’m just down the stairs if you need me." He gave Hyunjin a final look, his aura shifting to something darker, more protective.

"Okay, Hyung. I love you."

"I love you too," Leeknow replied, his voice soft but steady.

When Leeknow finally found Han, he was in the kitchen with Seungmin, both of them busy preparing food for their mates. The smell of freshly cooked dishes filled the room, but Leeknow wasn’t focused on that. He had something important to say.

"Hey, Hannie?" Leeknow called out, his voice soft but urgent.

Han immediately looked up, his large eyes filled with hope and concern.

"Yes, Hyung, is she okay? Does she need anything? Do you need anything?" Han stopped what he was doing, his full attention now on Leeknow, worry evident in his voice.

Leeknow paused for a moment before responding, his own heart heavy with the weight of what needed to be done.

"Babe, I think it's time for you to go try talking to her," Leeknow informed him gently but firmly.

Han's eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head slightly as panic started to creep in. "Are you sure? Is it not too early? What if she panics? What if I make it worse?" His hands were shaking, his chest pounding with nerves, and he felt the pull of his omega instincts—loud and demanding.

Go. Go. Omega needs us. Mate needs us. Now.

Han's eyes flickered gold, his omega taking control, the familiar surge of instinct filling his veins.

"She needs you, Han. She needs an omega by her side," Leeknow said, his voice calm but filled with quiet conviction. "I believe in you."

Han didn’t hesitate any longer. His omega instincts were too strong, and his heart ached knowing Y/N needed him. He quickly gathered his thoughts and began to pack away the food, giving Seungmin a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving for upstairs.

The walk to her door felt like an eternity. His mind raced, unsure of what to say or do. He grabbed anything he could find—clothes from different rooms—knowing he needed to build a nest for her. He was determined to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved.

When Han finally reached the door, the room was dark, the only light coming from a dimly lit lamp on the nightstand. Y/N was in the center of the bed, Hyunjin holding her close, his hand gently stroking her hair. Han stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before Hyunjin looked up at him and nodded, signaling for him to come closer.

Y/N stirred as she felt a new presence in the room. Her senses were sharp, and as soon as she caught the new scent—one that was familiar and comforting—her heart skipped. She didn’t know what to expect. The fear of rejection still clung to her. She was certain that they might hate her now, that they might blame her.

When her golden eyes met Han’s, all her worries seemed to collapse. Without thinking, she bolted upright, her hands reaching out toward him. The moment their eyes met, her tears began to fall freely, her body shaking with the weight of her emotions.

"Hannie," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she reached for him. "Please... I don’t know if you’re angry at me... Please don’t hate me."

Han’s heart shattered at the sight of her, her vulnerability hitting him harder than he expected. He wasted no time. Without a second thought, he crawled into the bed beside her, throwing the clothes he had gathered into Hyunjin’s hands. He wrapped his arms around her, scenting her gently but urgently. He wanted to erase any trace of the pain and trauma still clinging to her scent, to make her feel safe and loved again.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she clung to him, desperately needing his presence, his comfort.

"Shhh," Han murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "There’s no reason for you to apologize. This is not your fault." He cupped her face gently, staring deep into her eyes, his own eyes filled with sorrow. "I’m so sorry this happened to you," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her forearm. All she could do was cry. She had missed him so much.

"I love you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words was clear.

"I love you too," Han replied, his voice firm and full of resolve. "Forever, okay? I’m never letting you out of my sight. Whoever did this to you... I hope Chan Hyung rips their head off and keeps it as a trophy."

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, her scent slightly souring as she pulled him closer. "I’m okay now, Han. I promise," she whispered, trying to convince herself as much as him. "As long as I’m back home, that’s all that matters now."

Han’s heart twisted with guilt. She wasn’t angry at them, wasn’t holding any of this against them. She was trying so hard to stay strong, even though it was clear that she was breaking inside. He just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t angry with them for not protecting her, for not doing more. But right now, none of that mattered. He just wanted to hold her. He just wanted her to feel safe.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, allowing himself to just feel her. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N," he whispered.

"I'm sitting right in the corner if you need me," Hyunjin said softly, his voice laced with concern as he sat quietly by the door.

Y/N sniffled, her eyes swollen from the tears she had cried. She looked up at him, her face twisted with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability. "Hyunjinnie, go get some real rest," she urged, her voice gentle but firm. "Eat something, take a hot shower, and nap. I promise, I’m right here with Han."

Hyunjin shook his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "Y/N, I told you I wouldn’t leave."

She sighed, her gaze softening as she reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You’re not leaving," she assured him, her voice growing steadier. "I’m right here with Han. You’ve been working nonstop, looking after everyone. Please, take care of yourself; I promise nothing will happen."

Hyunjin stood still for a moment, taken aback by how calm and composed she sounded now. It gave him a flicker of hope, but the worry still gnawed at him. He felt the weight of everything, the endless worry and exhaustion, but hearing Y/N speak so firmly made him feel a bit more confident in leaving her alone for a while. Still, he hesitated.

"Okay... I’ll be back in a bit," Hyunjin finally said, his voice a bit strained. "Han, if anything happens, call me." His eyes lingered on Y/N one last time before he leaned down to kiss both of them on the forehead.

"I will, trust me, Hyung," Han reassured, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of concern. Hyunjin gave one last glance to the pair, the tension in his chest easing slightly. As he exited the room, he felt a small sense of relief knowing Y/N was opening up to Han. That was a step in the right direction.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, Han let out a slow breath, turning back to Y/N. His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he gazed down at her. "Baby," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "How come I can't feel you in the bond anymore?" The question had been haunting him for hours, and now it was out in the open.

Y/N’s eyes flickered, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. The bond between them had been a silent connection, one that had always been there, pulsing with warmth and reassurance. But now... it was nothing but a cold, distant feeling.

"I don't want you to feel my pain," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Felix is pregnant... That would put a strain on him, and I just can't handle the alphas right now. I don't want to deal with all of it." She closed her eyes, trying to keep herself composed, but the ache in her chest was impossible to ignore.

Han’s heart ached as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, his touch soft and soothing. "Oh, but you know that Chan and the alphas never meant to hurt you," he said quietly. "They’ve been beating themselves up over it, not forgiving themselves for what happened. They’ve been looking for you nonstop, Y/N."

"I don’t want to talk about it," she whispered, shaking her head, her body tense against him. "Haven’t I been through enough?" Her voice trembled as she nuzzled her face into his collarbone, seeking solace in his scent.

Han paused, the weight of her words sinking in. "Yes, you have," he said softly, his voice filled with guilt. "I’m sorry." He held her close, his heart heavy with the knowledge that she was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened. "But you’ll have to face Felix eventually," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "He’s been really worried about you."

Y/N stiffened at the mention of Felix, her hands instinctively moving to her stomach. The emptiness that had settled in her chest the moment they lost their pup seemed to fill her again, like an overwhelming wave of grief. "I’m just not ready," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can’t bear to see him carrying our pup."

Han’s heart clenched painfully at her words. "Our pup," he corrected softly, as though trying to remind her, to ground her in the reality that they still had a future, that they still had each other. "Don’t forget... you’re still the mother of that baby." The words felt heavy, but they needed to be said.

Y/N shuddered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she turned her face away from him. "Han, please... enough," she pleaded, her voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I can’t take it."

"Shhh," Han whispered, pulling her closer into his embrace. His heart was breaking at the sight of her distress, and guilt gnawed at him for bringing it all up. "It’s okay, get some rest." He gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know I’ve made it worse."

The guilt in his chest was suffocating, and his omega instincts were furious at him for making her cry, for causing her even more pain.

"Please... be patient with me," she murmured, her voice barely audible now as she drifted into a fitful sleep, the exhaustion from everything weighing her down.

Han stayed still, watching her with pained eyes, his hand resting gently on her back. As she slowly drifted off, he kissed her forehead softly, his heart breaking in his chest. "I’m so sorry," he whispered to her, his voice full of love and regret. "I’ll be here. Always."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Where's Han?" was the first question I.N asked when they all sat down for dinner. His eyes quickly scanned the room, but the empty seat beside him didn’t go unnoticed.

"He's upstairs with Y/n," Hyunjin answered, clearing his throat, trying to keep his tone casual.

"He's with Y/n?" Felix perked up immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. "How come? Did she ask for me?" His voice was hopeful, almost eager, but it was clear he didn’t fully understand the situation.

Hyunjin glanced over at Lee Know, seeking some help in explaining the situation. Lee Know, sensing the tension, stepped in.

"S-she… uh, right now we just don’t want to overwhelm her, so we sent Han in to check on her," Hyunjin said, his voice faltering slightly. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt in his chest for lying, even if it was to keep things calm.

"Oh..." Felix frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Can I go in next?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, his food now completely forgotten. The worry in his tone was impossible to ignore.

"How about we finish dinner first?" Lee Know interjected smoothly, "Then we’ll see if she’s awake."

Felix nodded reluctantly, but let out a sigh of frustration. "Okay, that's fine. I just really hope she’s okay," he muttered, looking down at his untouched plate.

"How was shopping?" Hyunjin asked, eager to change the subject and distract everyone from the tension surrounding Y/n.

"It was okay," Felix replied, though he seemed distracted. "I just wish you guys could’ve come. I wonder when Chan and Changbin-hyung will be back," he pouted, poking at his food absentmindedly.

"Eat, babe, you haven’t been eating," I.N scolded softly, noticing how little Felix had touched his meal. Felix let out a tiny whimper, not expecting to be called out.

"I’m not hungry…" Felix mumbled, his gaze shifting from his food to his mates.

"Eat," Seungmin teased, his voice light but firm. "I worked hard on this."

Felix couldn’t help but smile, the teasing tone breaking through his mood. "Okay, for you, I will," he replied, taking a small bite of his food, though his mind was clearly still elsewhere.

The room went silent again as everyone fell into their own thoughts, the tension still lingering like an unspoken weight.

Suddenly, Lee Know’s posture stiffened, and his chopsticks clattered to the table as he stood up abruptly. His instincts were on high alert as he felt the bond feel heavy. His alpha was urging him to go outside.

Someone was on their territory.

"They’re home," he said, his voice sharp with urgency.

Without waiting for anyone else, he bolted for the door, his footsteps echoing through the house.

"Hyung wait up!" Hyunjin was right behind him, and the rest of the group slowly stood up, following in a mix of confusion and concern.

When Lee Know reached the driveway, his eyes went wide. He saw Chan and Changbin coming down the path, both of them covered in blood, their faces exhausted and drained. Their clothes were torn, and it was clear they had just been through something rough.

"What the hell?" Lee Know gasped, rushing to support Chan, while Hyunjin quickly stepped in to help Changbin.

"What happened?" Hyunjin asked, his voice tight with worry, his hand resting on Changbin's shoulder to steady him.

Chan gave a weary glance at his mates, blood dripping from a cut on his arm, but his lips remained pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure whether to explain or keep quiet. The silence between them only deepened the worry growing in the others.

Lee Know glanced at Hyunjin, his expression grim. "We need to get them inside," he muttered, helping Chan to steady himself as they slowly made their way inside. The rest of the group followed behind, trying to make sense of the situation but knowing it would have to wait until later.

"we killed them."

well...fuck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

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@aalexyuuuhm @kenaicantcommunicate @fiestaplum-skz @silentreadersthings

[helslastangel]

Mini Observations #5

based on my synastry with a friend/unrequited love interest

Sun Sextile Pluto

Powerful chemistry. Both parties are left changed by the connection. Can become completely obsessed with each other if not controlled. Both Sun and Pluto feel a bit lost or displaced without each other from the first time they meet. Especially Sun, as Pluto is less averse to isolation. This is generally positive bit can take a very dark turn if Pluto has bad intentions. The Sun person loves the Pluto person "first" if you will, or at least expresses it faster and more confidently than Pluto, who will either lower their inhibitions and reciprocate the sentiment or give and withdraw their attention at will to break the Sun person's confidence and keep them under control. This is one of those aspects where when it's good, it's truly amazing, but when it's bad, it's downright horrible for both parties.

Sun Sextile Venus

A soft, supportive aspect. Love at first sight vibes, even if not acted on. Not the strongest connection indicator out there but the emotional connection is real between them. The Sun person feels happier and more radiant when around the Venus person. Very much "life is worth living when you're here with me" vibes. Venus thrives on the Sun's energy and is attracted to their charm. Venus feels the urge to do anything to make Sun happy ("Oh hey, I notice you really like x, so I got 3 of them for you"). Sun adores Venus and will protect them at all costs ("They said WHAT to you at work? Oh no they don't! Drop the name and address, who do I need to beat up?").

☆●☆○☆●☆

Pluto Conjunct Venus

Strong sexual attraction. Moderate emotional attraction. Can be one-sided or more commonly lop-sided in terms of willingness to emotionally invest. Karmic. Love-hate dynamic possible. Pluto person can easily read the Venus person. Pluto person can become extremely attached to the Venus person, who is aware of this but may or may not be able to reciprocate.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Mars Trine Venus

Again, mutual sexual attraction. The Venus person admires the Mars person's physique, energy and confidence in themselves and their appearance. The Mars person admires the Venus person's spirit, aura, general behavior and way of being. This is a comfortable connection. Warm. Both romantic and lustful. Likely to keep the "spark" alive for s long time.

Mars Trine Pluto

Possessive. Intense. Soul ties are very strong here. Can be explosive or have many power struggles if not careful. Mars person is the muscle, Pluto person is the mind of the relationship. Mars person gets things going after Pluto person has given it thought and come to a conclusion. Can have an on-and-off friendship or relationship. Or tend to drift apart and back again regularly, even if in very small ways.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Venus Square Saturn

Could go either way. Other aspects and placements can heavily influence this one. Venus views Saturn as wise and an authority figure in a sense, but Venus might feel restricted from expressing themselves freely and creatively. May feel a sense of always being in trouble, annoying or disappointing the Saturn person in some way. Saturn views Venus as a ray of sunshine-that never sets. They enjoy the exuberance and freespirited nature of the Venus person whether they admit it or not, but feel irritated by it at the same time. Saturn may be overcritical of the Venus person, leading the Venus person to leave in frustration or stay but become depressed, if other placements do not balance this out. This aspect can also indicate 'right person, wrong time' relationships, or one-sided, unrequited love between friends. Delays of one kind ot another are common with this aspect.

☆●☆○☆●☆

Mars Opposite Neptune

Difficult aspect to balance. Mars wants to do everything now. If it's an argument, they want to finish it then and there. If it's a task, they want to get it out of the way. If it's a fun activity, they want to jump in and immerse themselves in it. Neptune is easily fatigued, easily overwhelmed and finds it difficult to keep up with Mars-and probably does not even want to. Mars is also blunt which Neptune can only handle in tiny doses, if at all, leading them to need space often, which hurts Mars' ego and leads them to push even harder, which in turn leads Neptune to resort to white lies to get the recovery time they need to remain in the connection. This is a difficult aspect that is only sustainable if Mars learns to be quiet and slow down and Neptune learns to speak up and pick up the pace. They can meet in the middle, but both have to be willing.

↤ go back to the masterlist

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Suppressants

Alpha! Joel Miller X Omega!AFAB!Reader

Part One, Part Two

(( it won’t let me post the URL for part one, so please visit the link below to my Master List where you can find Part One!))

The complete Collection: Apollyon’s Master List.

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: 18+ content, post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), he falls first, angst(?), gore and violence. SMUT: Fingering, PIV, no use of protection (wrap it up y’all!), slight breeding kink if you squint, knotting, marking, heavy praise kink. ((Please let me know if I missed anything))

The day creeps on into the late evening, and as stars begin to speckle the sky you finally draw yourself away from the window, unable to see anything but your own reflection. Joel sits by the fire, trying to make it seem as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time your back had been turned. He shuffles his legs, picking at the ruminants of the rabbit on his plate.

“He’ll be here.” Joel glances up as you pace over, biting at your thumb nail as you stare into the orange and blue embers.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” But there’s a catch in your voice, your smile wavering slightly when you catch his eye.

He holds your stare for a moment, and you’re unable to hide the pinch of worry between your brow, your smile falling further. “Come on, sit.” Joel nods at your sleeping bag, sliding the rest of the rabbit towards you. “Gotta eat, kid. It ain’t gonna do you any good to make yourself sick while we wait.”

He has a point. You slide your bag closer to him and the fire, crossing your legs as you sit, pulling the plate into your lap. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the pop of the logs in the brick fireplace. You dare a glance towards Joel, finding him leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out and staring into the fire. Both of you lost in your own heads, wondering what could have happened to make Mark so late.

“Let me ask you something.” You’re caught staring, your cheeks flushing as Joel turns to look at you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you been on this medication?”

“Oh um… Eight? Nine years, maybe.” You shrug your shoulder, popping a piece of meat into your mouth.

Joel stares at you, stunned. “That long?” His thoughts turn instantly to how the medication could have affected you, how your body works, down to your biology. He can’t stop the spark of horror showing in his eyes before you notice.

You blanch slightly, stammering over your words. “Well… well yeah. I mean I couldn’t let anyone know, obviously. It’s… mom explained it like it was pretty much birth control. Never have a heat, never have to worry.” You try to shrug it off but Joel shakes his head, turning his body towards you.

“Yeah, but even then birth control isn’t supposed to be used your entire life… Are all of your instincts suppressed?”

The look on his face, how his eyes have grown wider, it makes you fidget. “Um… I guess so. I don’t really know what though.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, finally resting his gaze on the fire. “How come you never decided to find an Alpha to settle with? Someone you trusted?”

Your cheeks grow warm, the plate long forgotten in your lap, staring at Joel as the firelight dances across his features. “Well, I…” You don’t advert your gaze when he looks back at you, your heart steadily beating faster. “I thought about it… but I’m… I’m scared. I’m scared that the moment an Alpha finds out that he’ll use me, strip me of everything I am until I am nothing more than my biology…”

Your words are heavy in the air, the two of you staring at each other as the logs shift and crack in the hearth. Joel sits up a little straighter, resting his arms on his knees and glancing you over, breaking eye contact first.

“You told me.” His voice is gruff, underlying emotions caught at the back of his throat and your eyes widen.

“Of… of course I did-You’re…”

“Different?” He offers, eyebrows lifting, gesturing with a hand. You nod, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, how his eyes burn into your own, how he’s a larger than life presence in the room and that…

It doesn’t scare you, nothing about Joel has ever scared you. Unlike most of the Alphas you had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

It’s a startling realization, stealing your breath as you turn away.

Joel is different. He’s always been different.

“Y/n?”

You set the plate down clumsily beside him, the clunk loud on the wood floor, before you stand with your bag.

“I’m tired… do you mind taking first watch?”

Before he can answer you’re walking away, setting your bag down near the wall farthest from his. You crawl in and turn over, the pounding of your heart keeping you up for most of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day one of staying in the safe house slowly rolls into day two. Then those hours bleed over into day three and the anxiety that was pumping through your veins has morphed and transcended into pure terror.

There is still no sign of Mark as you and Joel pick at breakfast.

There is still no sign of Mark as you pace back and forth across the house when Joel tries to convince you to sit and eat lunch.

Now the sun is beginning to set, and the limitations of your calm have reached a breaking point. The empty pill bottle lays by your bag, an orange beacon of what is to come should Mark never show. The heaviness of the situation is slowly suffocating the air from the room, and there is nothing either of you can do as you wait, and wait, and wait.

Joel watches you from his spot by the window, lines of stress carve your face, your body jerky with how tightly strung your muscles are as you fold another blanket from the pile you had found in one of the back rooms. He isn’t sure what more he can do, though his instincts beg to comfort you, to take you in his arms and soothe your fears. But he knows it would be a lie, that as soon as the medication begins to work out of your system you’ll go into heat at any given moment, if not immediately.

He glances out the window for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the short blond man to materialize on the empty street.

Your breath is staggered in your lungs, panic slowly tightening its grip around your neck by the minute, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. You toss another blanket onto Joel’s sleeping bag before bending to pick up the next, shaking it free of the dust that had gathered over the years. You try to focus on the feeling of the soft material beneath your fingers, or the way the particles float through the air, catching the sunlight. You count the blankets in each pile, trying to even them out.

“One, two, three-“

“Honey.”

You jump at Joel’s deep voice, turning to find him staring at you, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows pinched once more. “Y-Yes?” Your eyes flickering to the door expectantly, a spark of hope wishing to fan to life.

Joel rolls his lips together, adverting his gaze. “Ya might wanna take all those blankets into that back room… Make somewhere comfortable for yourself later.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach, the feeling flooding from your hands as the blanket falls to the floor. “W-What? Why?”

“I don’t think Marks going to make it.” Joel watches the color drain from your face in an alarming amount of time, his back stiffening as he pushes off the wall, suddenly afraid you’re going to faint as you sway on your feet.

“N-no… No.” Denial takes a head, your eyes becoming watery. “He said he would be here, he-he has to be here!” Despair makes you raise your voice, and the look of pity in Joel’s eyes only makes the feeling worse. “Why isn’t he here?”

Shaking his head, Joel runs his hands through his hair. “Darling I wish I knew. There’s a number of things that could have happened. From him deciding what I was trading wasn’t good enough to he could have possibly been attacked.” Joel’s words hold reason, and you want to accept them, you want them to make you feel better, to understand that this journey was a risk with no guaranteed reward.

“I can’t go through this Joel. I can’t.” Your voice breaks as he becomes blurry, tears burning your eyes that refuse to fall just yet. “I can’t go home, I can never go back to the QZ.”

“Baby… Yes you will.”

“No I can’t! The moment I get remotely close to those walls an Alpha is going to hunting me like I am some kind of-“

Joel is suddenly before you, gripping your shoulders, and his solemn features are extremely clear as the first tear falls. “Ain’t no one, and I mean no one gonna lay a finger on you. I wont let that happen.”

“I’m an unmated Omega, Joel…” You whisper, trembling under his grip. “I’m prey.”

The words are heavy, laden with the truth. Where as the few mated Omegas there are, are relatively safe in the presence of their Alpha or pack, an unmated Omega is injured prey in a room full of predators.

Joel cusses, his grip tightening ever so slightly, fingertips digging into your sweater. He ducks slightly, bringing himself to your level, and this close you can see the slightest specks of colors hidden amongst the brown in his eyes. Golds and greens swirling together. You get so lost in the depths of them for a moment that you start slight when he speaks.

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about this and I just… You need to hear me out, alright? You know I’d never do nothing to hurt you, but this is the only option I see.”

Hesitation bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach, your nod small as you suddenly realize how close you both are, how strong his smell is growing.

Joel swallows thickly, searching your eyes. “Let me mark you.”

You gasp, pulling away and Joel lets you, raising his hands in the air as you stare in growing disbelief. “What?”

Joel rushes to explain, sensing the rising fight that is about to ensue. “After. After you get through your heat, when it’s time for us to leave let me lay a mark on you. It wont be a mating mark, just a claim. Any Alpha that dares to come near you will scent me immediately.”

A trembling hand flutters to your throat, the most traditional place for a mark of any kind. “That’s… That’s a really big commitment Joel…” You breath, looking up at the older man. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask that of you.” The thought of bearing Joel’s mark though makes the blood in your veins feel thick, something deep in your stomach clenching as you imagined what it would feel like, how his mark would appear on your skin.

“You aren’t ask anything of me, Y/n. I am offering you a solution.” Joel insists.

A solution.

Is that all it is?

Though claims are not as strong as Mating marks, Joel’s scent would be imbedded into your very being; and as he said, not a single person would dare mess with you. Him being one of the most powerful people in the QZ… But there is something whispering at the back of your mind, a fleeting feeling of disappointment that startles you.

Is this just a man doing whatever it takes to uphold his bargain?

“I mean… I understand. It-It’s just… what if there is someone you find later on, they aren’t going to be happy that you have already marked another person.” You feel stupid just saying that, but apart of you wants to know, some part that is is suddenly feeling small and insecure as you stare at Joel.

Joel’s smile is bemused, the corners of his lips hardly lifting as he cocks his head. “I ain’t been worried about such things for a long time, darling.” There’s a gleam in those brown eyes as he looks at you, “Is that a problem for you?”

Your skin flushes, the color filling the apples of your cheeks, and you can no longer hold his stare. Joel takes a testing step forward, and when you don’t retreat, he closes the distance. He curls a thick finger under your chin, tilting your head up with no where else to look but at him. Your pupils are blown out, covering the beautiful color of your irises, and he feels the slight bit of weight as you seemingly, unknowingly press your chin into the warmth of his hand. “Hmm?” He prompts, easing a little closer, the toes of his boots brushing yours, and you squirm in place. His presence is overpowering, making you feel small in a way that has your breath hitching. “Got someone you’re sweet on?”

The low rumble of humor in his voice makes you blink, stuttering your answer. “What? No-No of course not…” You think back to the conversation just a few nights ago, how you realized that you found more than comfort in Joel presence and you suddenly feel as though you’ve been doused with cold water.

His smile grows with your silence, a dimple peaking through the scruff of his beard, those crows feet reappearing by his eyes as he slips his hand along your jaw. “No one? Not a single soul?” He teases, his voice soft like the stroke of his fingers over the back of your jaw. You push his hand away, turning your back to him as you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’ll consider it.” You mumble over your shoulder, a shudder ripping through you.

“That’s all I am asking for.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the sun dips past the rising building, needs you’ve never felt before begin to surface with the creep of night. Sitting on the floor of the back room, you readjust blanket after blanket to your liking. Every one that Joel lays out you have to pull and tug into the right place, wadding up some and discarding others.

Joel watches you, patient as he follows your instructions on how to help as you make your bed. You worry your lips between your teeth, sitting back on your heels as you stare at the mess before you. “It’s alright, your instincts to nest are starting to come out. It use to be that when Omegas lived with their Alpha’s they would have specific rooms designed just for their nests.” His voice is calm, trying to quell your anxiety.

“Really? That must have been nice…”

“It was. The space was sacred to an Omega, it was completely filled with things that they desired and found comfortable as well.” An intrusive thought fills Joel’s mind, an image of you, curled up amongst soft blankets and pillows. Your face no longer pinched with fear, instead soft with contempt.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, a sheepish look crossing his features as you shake your head. “Something is missing… It doesn’t smell right… I need…” You whisper dies off as you look over, catching Joel’s stare. Your eyes move lower slowly, zeroing in on the dark green flannel he has thrown on over his t-shirt. Joel follows your gaze in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.

“Whatcha’ need, sweetheart?”

You swallow, his scent had been filling the room over the last few hours, calling to you, blanketing your nerves. He smells of pine woods, and whiskey, and the way a campfire clings to your clothes the next day. It’s intoxicating, a mouth watering scent you could easily become addicted to.

“Could… Could I have your flannel?” You can barely get the words out, embarrassed by the need for his scent to feel comfortable in your nest.

Joel stares at you in surprise, his eyes widening. “My shirt?”

You smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket you’re sitting on, unable to look him in the eyes as you stammer. “You… You smell good and it-it’s been comforting this entire trip…” Whatever you could possibly say to justify your request dies in your throat, sizzling with shame.

The room is quiet for a long moment before Joel moves out of the corner of your eye. He rolls his shoulders back, working the garment off his arms and handing it over. “There ya go.”

Your hand trembles minutely as you take it, his eyes locked with yours as you draw it to your chest, your heart pounding in your ears.

Joel’s next breath is cut short, a sweet smell beginning to permeate the air and he realizes your medication is leaving your system. Your natural scent is sweet, like peaches and chocolate, and something fresh like the first rain of spring.

It makes Joel’s stomach tighten, fire starting to kindle low in his groin, and he realizes he needs to put distance between the both of you while he can.

“I’m going to get you some food.” he stands from the crate and your gaze follows, traveling up the expanse of his body. Past his long legs clad in dark denim, past his tapered waist; further up his wide chest and corded arms until your focus is finally of his face.

You’re noticing things you hadn’t before, like how his salt and pepper beard has a heart shaped patched just under his jaw. The wild way his hair curlers, framing his face, and once more you’re drawn to the set of his lips. They look soft, warm, like they would move perfectly against your own.

“Honey?”

Joel’s thick accent washes over you, and a blazing heat licks up your spine making you whimper. Pain rips through your abdomen, your body suddenly feeling wound tight full of sudden need that leaves your panties slick.

His eyes widen, hit by the full volume of your scent as it perfumes and envelopes the room.

“Fuck, I’m-“

“You’re in heat.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you had to take a bet on who would be the first to break, you would have bet on yourself.

And you would have lost.

48 hours of hell.

48 hours of crying and silently begging for anything to end the pain.

Your fingers have hardly dented your heat, whatever relief you can bring yourself is too short lived, the agonizing pain eating you up until the point you’re certain you will die in this cramped little room. Joel’s flannel is damp with tears as you burry your face into the wad of material, the scent bringing you as much comfort as it brings you pain. The need for him is becoming too much.

You want to scream for him, beg for him to fix it the only way an Alpha can, but you force yourself to bite your lip.

The floorboard creaks suddenly on the other side of the door, and you know it’s Joel, checking on you once again, unnecessarily taunting you with what you can’t have. You whine, frustration eating at you as your hand cramps once more between your slick thighs, forcing you to stop rubbing cruel circles around your clit. You stare up at the ceiling, tears spilling along your temples and catching in your damp hair as you count the cracks in the drywall. Anything to focus on that isn’t the pain and need between your legs, or the way your skin sticks together with sweat.

The moment is to short lived and your body is moving, trying to find a comfortable position as you roll onto your knees, pressing your chest to the mound of blankets. You groan softly, letting your weight rest on your chest as your knees slide apart, your hand once again finding your pulsing clit. Burying your face into Joel’s flannel you huff a sigh, working yourself towards a quick high when the sound of the brass doorknob turning catches you off guard.

You shoot up, wrapping one of the loose blankets around your naked form just as Joel steps into the room.

Embarrassment and shock keep your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth as you stare at each other. The dying sunlight in the room casts him in shadows, his tan skin appearing darker, but his eyes shine as they rake over you.

He is quick to note the change in your smell, how the stress and pain have caused your scent to become overly sweet like turned fruit. The next thing he notices is his crumpled shirt, and the bright flush of your cheeks as you tighten the blanket around you, sweeping the garment underneath. Joel steps closer and you lean back, your breath hitching at the hunger in his eyes.

“Joel…” You try to warn, but he cooes softly and your cunt clenches at the noise.

“baby doll…” Tears fill your eyes at the softness of his tone, and he hurts to ease your pain. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, ragged like he hadn’t spoke in days.

“No-No… I’m okay, I’ve got in under control.” You lie even as your body begs for the help.

Joel gets to his knees before you, hands clenching over his thighs. Your cheeks are bright red, your hair in a tangled mess on top of your head from where you had tried to tie it up. He has to keep himself from follow the beads of sweat that roll down your jaw before disappearing down the curve of your neck.

“I can’t sit out there a moment longer, listening to you crying and whimpering. It’s just me, you know you’ve always been safe with me.” You don’t reply, your eyes squeezing shut as a sharp shudder rips through you and it tugs at his heart. “Can I come closer?” You freeze, realizing that he’s asking to come into your nest. A delicious feeling of comfort rolls over your muscles at the idea, and you nod slowly.

Joel’s knees pop and creak as he climbs onto the pallet behind you, where he grips your shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles.

A small sob rips from your chest, leaning heavily into his grip. “I’ll do whatever you need, just say the word. If I need to leave I will, if I need to just sit here a while and talk you through this I can. But I can’t sit on the other side of that door and listen to you cry.”

His words simmer through your mind, stinging your already aching heart, and another sob is forced from your throat. Joel hushes you softly, his rough palms slipping up your neck then back down, as he pulls you back letting you rest against his chest.

Joel’s warmth bleeds into your own but it feels different, soothing. His scent is the strongest it’s ever been, filling your lungs with each shakey breath, and you feel something shift. Hushed words muddle together in your ears, your head leaning back against his chest as a breathy moan leaves your throat.

Without thought your hips begin to grind slowly, need pulsing so hot and heavy between your thighs that your hand travels down thoughtlessly. Your breath hitches as your fingers swirl around your swollen clit, slipping through your lips and pressing into your opening.

“Little Peach.” Joel’s voice is gruff, and another sob spills from your lips.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t ask for this Joel, I didn’t ask to be born like this.” Before you can snatch your hand away, horror flooding through your body, Joel is there. His hand finds an opening in the blanket so loosely wrapped around your body, gripping your wrist stopping you.

“I know… I know you didn’t but there ain’t no reason to fight it now baby. It’s said and done.” His clauses are rough against your skin, and you hold your breath as he covers your hand with his own. “Use me. Take what you need, whatever it is.”

Your eyes are droopy with lust when you turn your head to look up at him, the softest whimper leaving your lips when Joel shifts behind you , pressing the hard ridge in his pants against your back.

“I…” You swallow, thighs trembling as you feel your laced fingers brush the thatch of curling hair covering your pussy. “I don’t want to make you do anything…”

When he chuckles the sound reverberates through your back, “Darlin’,” He drawls the word out close to your ear, “You didn’t make me stay, you didn’t make me come in this room. And you certainly aren’t making me do this.”

He emphasizes his point by tracing the drenched slit of your cunt, earning a high pitched squeak. “Fuck, peach… So wet, she’s just fucking dying for some attention isn’t she?”

Your head, feeling heavy, falls back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as bliss fills your body. Joel tugs testingly at your blanket and when it slips from your fingers, Joel pulls it away revealing your body to him.

Joel sucks in a breath, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of you laid out between his legs. Your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the sheen of sweat gleaming on your body in the dim golden light of the room. “Look at you…” A hunger permeates his words, his breath growing more ragged as he draws a delicate circle around your clit, eliciting a gasp. “You are beautiful, so very, very beautiful.”

Your hips circle, seeking more of anything he is willing to give you. “Please, I need you… I need you, Joel.” You turn your face into his neck, your breath fanning over his skin.

“Ain’t gotta beg, pretty girl. I’ve got ya.” His fingers draw lazy patterns around your clit and you moan, slow and drawn out, hips bucking as he keeps a steady pace. Joel works you up easily with a few expert swipes, your back bowing as your orgasm crashes through you. Your cries of ecstasy are muffled against his throat, thighs squeezing his hand.

He shushes you as you float back to reality, gasping for breath as you relax against him; your muscles loose, bones feeling like jello. “Atta girl, easy Peach.”

You try to catch your breath, reviling in the small reprieve he’s given you. “peach… why peach?” You whisper, making Joel chuckle softly.

“It’s all I can smell ever since your medication wore off. Peaches and chocolate .”

You hum, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you sure the chocolate bar didn’t melt in my bag?”

Joel smiles, lazily dragging his fingers across your stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. Bakers chocolate doesn’t smell this sweet.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters, a calm washing over your mind at the same time a spark flairs to life in your stomach.

You lean back, eyes hazy, lids heavy matching the look of his own. The few seconds you spend staring at each other feel like an eternity before you close the gap.

It’s hesitant, as most first kisses are, a little puff of surprise between your lips before they seal together. Finding the rhythm that works so well as one moans softly and the other swallows the noice. Your hand slips up his chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart before it travels up his neck to rest against his jaw.

Joel helps you as you turn, never letting the kiss break as you shakily straddle his lap, pressing your body tight against his own. The spark catches quickly, setting fire to your body as you grind against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands grip the dent of your waist, encouraging your movements with soft squeezes, while you tug fitfully at his shirt.

“More.” You mumble against his lips, letting your heat take the lead, turning off all thoughts of shame as his shirt slips up and you lay your hands on his bare skin for the first time. He pulls the shirt off completely and you lean back, admiring him with lust blown eyes. Joel sighs softly, his head dropping back as your fingers run through the dense curling hair across his chest. His body is strong, sculpted by years of manual labor and survival, yet his stomach is a little soft with age. You scratch your nails down his stomach lightly, following the trail of hair down to the buckle of his jeans and Joel closes his eyes.

“I want you.” You lick your lips, salivating at the thought of what lies just below the thick blue denim. Joel moans again, his chest rising with the need for air as he nods.

“Gonna need to work you open for me, honey.” He breaths, his eyes falling to where your hands fumble over the button of his jeans.

“Just… I just need you, it’s okay.” There’s a frantic note to your voice, all logic thrown out the window at this point, need and instinct pushing you forward.

Joel sees this, and slips his hand around your throat, squeezing softly and forcing you to sit back, ignoring your desperate whine. “Ima give you what you want, but you’re gonna listen to me little girl. Am I clear?” There’s a touch of command in his voice, forcing your gaze to his and waiting until you finally nod your understanding.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, sneaking his other hand between your bodies, stroking your pussy. You groan, eyes fluttering closed as your grind yourself against his hand, supporting yourself by gripping his arm. “That’s it… go ahead baby…” Joel’s voice is hoarse, his pupils dilated as he sinks two fingers into your heat. You gasp at the sudden stretch, the burn of his thick digits spreading you open. Your jaw falls slack, eyes rolling up as bliss radiates through your body. “Fuuuck, baby girl…” Joel pulls his fingers out before sinking them back in, the calluses he’s built from years of working with his hands rub along your sensitive walls, reaching places you never thought possible. “Y’er so tight… squeezing my fingers like that.” Joel’s Texan twang seeps into his words as his arousal heightens, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he works his fingers in and out, faster and harder, mesmerized by the way your hips buck and twitch; climbing towards your next orgasm. “Come on baby… cum fer me darlin’.”

Your body sings for him, the force of your orgasm shaking you as your back bows and light explodes across your vision. Your thighs quake, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you sob, rutting against his hand as your cunt squeezes his fingers with each radiating wave of pleasure.

The soft, comforting sounds of his approval reaches your ears, his grip slackening around your throat as you slump against him. “So beautiful, cumming all over my fingers like that. I need to see you cum on my cock baby.” His words have you preening, his voice husky as you lean back, your grin lopsided and your eyes glossed over. Joel strokes a thumb over your cheek, and you turn your head, kissing his palm. “Lay back for me. Let me take care of you.”

With much effort you manage to lay back in your nest, your legs spread, hips circling invitingly as Joel climbs to his feet, finally stripping off his jeans. All that remains in the way of what. You need the most, are his thin pare of threadbare boxers. Your mouth salivates at the bulge in his underwear, giving you a good peak at the size of his member hiding just underneath. “How do you want me?”

Your voice is so soft, yet wrecked with lust, ready to please Joel. He smiles, his cock twitching. “why don’t you roll over for me huh? That’s right, goood girl.” You follow his instructions, knees slipping on the blanket, head resting on your arms as you try to catch your breath through the thickness of your anticipation.

Dropping his boxers he groans as his cock springs free, bobbing between corded thighs as he takes his place behind you, hands steadying himself on the small of your back. He sighs deeply, cock twitching and knot swelling slightly at the sight of your drenched cunt, inviting him to sink into your heat.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, turning your head and catching sight of him leaning over you, the predatory hunger in his gaze. “I know… I know you need this little one.” His voice drops to a husky vibration in his wide chest and all you can do is nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” Gripping his cock, Joel glides his fingers over the long length of his shaft, teasing the throbbing vein running up his cock before slipping the flushed tip through your folds.

“Please… Please Alpha.” You beg through thick tears, gripping the faded purple blanket below you as Joel notches his cock against your entrance. He presses his hips forward, both of you moaning loudly as he sinks into your warmth. “Joel…” You simper, rocking your hips back, attempting to take more of him. You thought his fingers had been a stretch, now you understand why he was so adamant about opening you up. His cock is long and thick, spearing you open and stretching your walls in ways that feel like you might be ripped in two at any moment.

“Fuck… fuck y’re so tight.” Joel breathes raggedly, his focus torn between not busting right here and now and not thrusting into you savagely. “Easy baby, gotta stretch you out nice and slow.” You mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him slipping deeper and deeper with small thrusts. every ridge and bump rubbing across your sensitive walls, working you higher and higher.

A hand travels up your bowed spine, gripping your neck and pressing your face into the blankets. “This sweet pussy must have been made for me, huh? the way she squeezes me so tight.” Joel curves over you, his weight settling against your hips as he drives forward, burying himself to the hilt. You squeal at the sudden force, your legs shaking and weak profanities spilling from your lips.

Joel chuckles quietly, bracing his weight on his hands, trapping you below him. “You can take it can’t you baby? You’re doing so well.” He rocks back, sliding out a few inches before burying himself back into you, a gruff moan falling from his lips. He continues his shallow thrusts, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving your drooling cunt for to long.

“Y-yes, yes Alpha.” You stutter, the euphoria coursing through your body threatening to break your mind, as the engorged head of his cock presses against a sensitive spot along your gummy walls. “Please… Please I’m gonna-!” Your muscles lock, mouth agape, as your orgasm suddenly begins to crest.

With a growl, Joel presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Cum for me.” He grunts, already feeling his heavy balls drawing tight as your cunt starts fluttering. “Cum for me and I’ll give you my knot.”

A shrill scream bubbles out of your throat, your body jerking below his as you fall into that black pit of pleasure. Joel’s hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry of pleasure as his head shoots up, eyes locking on the window for the briefest of moments. “There you go baby, let go for me.” He breathes into your ear, pulling you tight to his chest as he plows himself into your pliant cunt. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, your desperate whines and whimpers caught in his meaty palm as his thrusts become harder, deeper, faster.

“This little pussy, she’s just begging for my cum.” The rhythmic sound of his hips snapping against your ass fills the room, just below it is the sloppy sound of his cock spearing into you. You nod weakly, working your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust and he grins. The look almost triumphant. “Yeah she does… Gonna let me breed her, huh? Gonna let me fuck her full of me?”

Joel drops his hand, circling your throat holding your head against his shoulder. “Yes! Yes oh god, cum in me, cum in me please!” Your cry is all he needs, his control snapping as he bully’s his cock against your cervix.

Joel grunts, his eyes closing and head tilting back as the first jet of cum paints your walls. You squeal, a noise so high and piercing that Joel jerks slightly. His knot swells stretching your cunt beyond what you think you can take, locking you to Joel.

“Fuck baby… you can take it, let go and relax.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder as he grinds his hips against your ass, his spend filling you to the point it has no where else to go, your stomach bulging ever so slightly before it leaks past his knot.

You whimper softly, your thoughts dissipating completely as Joel pants above you. He slowly rolls you both on to your side, cradling you close as he pulls a blanket across your shivering body. Smoothing the sweaty hair from your face he rains kisses down on your shoulders and neck, hushing your whimpers with praises, even as his cock still twitches in your depths.

“I’ve got you, rest baby, I’ve got you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hng- Joel… oh god…” Your head lulls back, Joel’s hand keeping you from hitting the floor as he cradles your neck. Fingers twitching around locks of grey hair, you moan Joel’s name as he drags his cock from your sodden pussy, only to press back in a second later.

Fingertip shaped bruises and dark red love bites littler your body, mirroring Joel’s. A new one popping up every few minutes, consequences of how you’ve spent the last four days.

Even now, Joel circling a pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue, laving the delicate skin before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. Your jaw drops, back arching in a silent plea for more, which Joel is happy to accommodate. His teeth scrape over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply before twirling his tongue around your nipple.

You bask in the feeling, your senses having finally starting to become your own as your heat subsides. You tug on Joel’s hair, pulling him from your breast with a wet pop, his brown eyes meeting your own. They’re heavy with lust, soft pants falling from his lips as he grinds against your core. Snuggly wrapped in your wet warmth, his hips barely move as he languidly fills you with every inch he has. The course hairs at the bottom of his shaft, made sticky with the mix of your releases, rubs against your swollen clit; giving it the right amount of friction to keep you on the edge of bliss.

You drag Joel’s lips to your own, moaning as he sweeps his tongue into your mouth, tasting you in the same manner as which he ravishes your body. Pulling back Joel stutters for breath, taking in the rose color of your kiss bitten lips, the seemingly permanent stain of color on your cheeks, how your eyes shine with need as they never leave his.

You lean up, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck tasting the salt on his skin. Joel’s hand moves from its place in the bend of your knee, to the plush of your hip, holding you as close as he can. He can hear you breathing in his scent with soft little whimpers, your hands gripping at him as if he is likely to disappear at any given moment.

Joel knows the feeling too well, it threatens to cave his chest in, to pull him into an inky void of loneliness if you decide, by the end of this, that it was all a big mistake. His long fingers tangle into your hair, pulling you from the crook of his neck with ease to stare into your laden eyes.

“You look so pretty like this.” Joel’s voice is thick, sticking in his throat. You make a soft noise of appreciation, rolling your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.

Joel’s pace slowly increases, his cock sliding further and further out before finding home again. Your lashes flutter, gasping quietly as he presses his forehead to yours.

“J-Joel…”

“I want to mark your pretty little neck, I don’t ever want to let you go.” A whine falls from your lips at a particularly hard thrust, your pussy becoming more sensitive, your bud grinding against his pelvic. “Want to keep you all to myself, keep you covered in my scent and filled with my cum.”

Joel moans as your cunt flutters, your legs starting to shake, nails digging into his shoulders.

You nod your head, bliss building under your skin. “Joel… Joel!” He leans closer, practically bending you in half as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.

“Say it baby, tell me I can mark you. Tell me your my Omega.“

“I’m yours! M-Mark me Joel, please!”

With a harsh thrust Joel sends you spiraling, dropping you over the edge into oblivion as his teeth sink into the thin skin of your neck. Your eyes widen, your grip tightening around Joel as the new sensation washes through your body.

For the briefest of moments you can feel everything Joel does, though his emotions pelt you so rapidly you can’t catch on to any of them before he draws away. There’s blood on his lips, a needy manic look in his eyes as his hips falter, moans falling off his tongue as he fucks into you. Joel grips the backs of your thighs, bending you in half, letting gravity work with him as he bears his teeth and molds your pussy to the shape of his cock.

“Mine, my sweet Omega. All mine.” Little whimpers and babbled prayers leave your lips, too limp and compliant below him to do much else. You watch his face twist, his nose scrunching, lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes closing as the first twitch of his cock sends a jet of seed deep into your cunt.

Knot catching, plugging your dripping hole, Joel collapses, hardly catching himself from crushing you under the heft of his weight. Your thighs burn from the stretch, your limbs loose and yet tight all at once as he nips and peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Your head falls to his chest, a wave of exhaustion crashing into you as Joel rolls you both over, welcoming your weight on top of him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“We’ve used up most of our food, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hunt down a few rabbits to hold us over until we get back.”

Joel squats by the packs, sorting through them, transferring all of the lighter things to your bag. You watch from the center of your makeshift nest, now fully dressed in your travel clothes, your eyes trained on each item he rearranges as your fingers pick at the blanket below you.

A large part of you doesn’t want to leave this room, it wants to stay buried in your nest with Joel beside you. Never to emerge again, growing oblivious to the world outside. But you know that isn’t how it works, that you have to take the next steps and navigate this new life ahead of you.

Joel doesn’t need to look at you to see your discomfort, your scent gives you away. The sweet smell now is too strong, bordering on sour. He looks over his shoulder, catching your eye. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You look like your verging on tears, your lip starting to tremble. Joel sets the bag down, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns fully. “I’ve never… I’ve never lived as an Omega, Joel. I-I mean, yeah I have been an Omega this whole time but I’ve lived as a Beta, I didn’t have to worry about going out of my apartment, I never had to fear an Aloha taking interest in me. I-I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions and-and feelings burning in my chest.” Tears spill over your cheeks and Joel quickly moves to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. You suck in a harsh breath, a sob threatening to swallow your words. “I don’t want to leave my nest.”

“Baby…” Joel pulls you into his lap, cradling you as he smooths a hands down your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, your sobs wracking your body as you cling to his jacket. “You aren’t alone, I’m here and like I’ve said, I ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you. You’ll still live your life just as you did before. We just need make a few changes is all.”

You sniffle with a nod, closing your eyes as you inhale his scent. “I’m sorry.” You mutter timidly.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry. Just need ya to trust me, okay?”

“O-okay…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is so bright after being locked inside the house for so long, you squint at your surroundings as Joel ushers you outside and down the steps. You look around at the sunny world, the bright lights and hues of approaching fall. It all feels so conflicting with the turmoil of emotions you feel inside.

You start down the walk way, Joel’s presence at your back, he’s talking about the trip home, how often you both will need to stop, the things that need to be restocked. Vaguely you are listening, your focus drawn to everything around you, something wrong scratching at your bones as you turn onto the street.

You draw to a halt, your breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh before you stumble back, knocking into Joel.

“Oh my god.” You gasp. Joel goes ridged, seeing the body splattered across the road at the same time you do. His gun is drawn in seconds, coming around you, instantly scooping the surrounding areas and you are following suit. Your gun trembles between your palms, your heart pounding in your ears as Joel takes steady steps towards the corpse. “Joel…” Your voice is hardly a whisper, your eyes darting away to the darkened openings of the building on every side of you.

“Fuck…” Joel’s voice is louder than you expect, your skin prickling under your clothes.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mark.” Widened eyes shoot to his, your mouth dropping open in shock. Joel glances at you briefly before crouching down, grabbing Mark’s bag and dragging it to his side. Quickly looking away you swallow the growing vile rising in your throat at the glimpse of his desecrated body. Despite the hefty distance you can smell the copper tang of Mark’s blood, can see the pool of it dried against the black asphalt and the flies that buzz about his body.

“Your pills are here.” Joel’s knees pop as he stands, heaving the bag over his shoulder as his gaze snags on you. Your body trembles like an unsteady fawn, eyes riveted to the ground before you as you gulp in lungfuls of air. He sighs, glancing down to step around the dealer as he speaks. “Hey, it’s al-“

His next words are lost in a flurry of motion, a yell erupting from his throat as he’s slammed to the pavement, sliding across the rough ground as a weight lands on his body.

The rotting stench wafts into his face, just before graying chipped teeth gnash mere inches from his throat. A scream rips from you at the same time the creature shrieks, struggling against the handle of the shot gun pressing into its throat as Joel struggles to fight against its weight.

Without thinking you raise the gun, the crash corse you learned running through your brain all at once. You aim and fire, the first bullet whizzing past its head feet to the left. The thing claws at Joels thick jacket, looking for a hold to retch itself closer as Joel kicks out his legs, tangled in the bag he had dropped.

The next shot burst into the ground, a foot above Joel’s head and you cry in frustration, anger filling your bones, burning your nerves as you scream. “FUCK!”

You step forward, one arm lifting as you aim, twisting your wrist as you squeeze the trigger.

Everything goes still, your heart, Joel’s breathing, as the zombie drops. the ruminants of its head splattered across the ground and Joel hefts its body to the side, rolling out from under it. A nervous laugh builds in your throat, your hand trembling worse than ever but you can’t bring yourself to lower your gun. Joel looks up at you from the ground, his chest heaving and eyes wide as he takes in your stance.

“D-Does he l-o-o-ook like a BITCH?!” Your voice rings off of the surrounds walls, hysteria making you stutter as you recall the only line you could think of. Joel springs to his feet, despite his bodies protest, and quickly makes his way to your side. Slowly he pries the gun from your hand, turning you away from the body of the cordio before he scoops up the fallen bag and drags you from the bloodied mess.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The fire crackles lowly, just barely lighting the area around it as night descends over the forest. You sit on the moss covered floor, knees tucked into your chest as you stare at the glowing embers, watching as they flicker in and out. Joel is across from you, his knife chipping away at a branch, whittling the wood down into a small figure, hidden in the width of his palm. The boarders of the QZ sit just a mile away, waiting for your return, but what is it you are returning to? The trip back had been far quieter than before, you had retreated into yourself, haunted by the question.

The bottles of pills are a reminder every time they jostle and make noise in your bag. Would you go back to taking them, only to risk reliving this trip all over again? What is your life now if you don’t take them? Do you live with Joel now or on your own? The mark on your neck burns at the thought of being separated from your mate, a concept your hormone free brain is having a hard time understanding.

“I can hear you thinking.” His gruff voice makes you jump, your eyes darting to his, blinking away the bursting dots of light that cloud your vision from staring at the fire for so long.

“What?”

Sighing he tilts his head to the side, pinning you with the inky depths of his stare. “I can practically hear your mind working itself into a tizzy. Plus you’re flooding me with your emotions, darling.” You blanch, mumbling an apology as you shift in your spot. Joel watches you, like he had the entire way home. The dark circles under your eyes, the dullness of your skin, the soft scared whimpers you’ve made in your sleep these last several nights.

He knows worrying like this will only make you sick, physically and mentally, being an Omega only makes it worse. “Come here.” He opens his arm, signaling for you to curl into his side and its like your body is wired to follow his commands. You move without a second thought, tucking yourself against his side, a weak sigh slipping past your lips. Being this close your muscles relax, your thudding heart slowing to a steady beat to match Joel’s own. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you shuffle impossibly closer.

After a long moment of silence, basking in the way his hand runs up and down your back, you finally relent. “I am so scared.” You breath, your gaze traveling to the luming walls in the near distance. “I-I know you will do anything to keep me safe but… but there is only so much you can do.” Your words sting, the hushed way you whisper them against his flannel nearly unbearable. Joel tightens his grip on your shoulders, about to deny your claim but you press forward. “Should I take the pills? Save us the trouble? But then we will have to do all… all of this all over again and I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Tears fill your vision, turning your face into his chest as you sob quietly.

“Y/n… baby girl.” He drops his knife to the ground, carding his fingers through your hair, pulling you in tighter. Almost as if he could press you into his very being, keep you there so that you never have to fret or worry again. Joel lets you cry, lets your tears soak through his shirt until there is nothing left but a few soft hiccups in your breath and your sagging against him for support.

“Look at me, peach.” His fingers sweep under your chin, lifting your face to his. Your eyes are swollen and red, your face blotchy but he cooes softly. His heart hammering against his own ribs but he can’t let you see that. Not yet. Not when there is still so much you have to face and need his strength for. “If you want to take the pills that is entirely up to you, I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“But you’re my-.”

“No. No matter what I am to you, I don’t have a right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But,” He holds your stare for a moment, searching your tear stricken face. “But if you decide not to take them, you need to trust me. My scent is already marred into your skin, anyone can tell you are mine with or without being able to tell you are an Omega under neath. I’ve got you, you just need to trust in that.” Joel holds so much certainty in his words,so much need for you to trust and understand what he means, what he’s hoping to convey in the silent moments that follow.

You swallow, your throat working and Joel can’t help but to look, to see the mark that rings the side of your delicate neck. Whipping the remnants of your tears with the sleeve of your jacket you give a shallow nod, Joel had always protected you, had always made sure you were never without. Deep in your heart you knew he would hold true to his words, he would do everything in his power to keep you from falling prey to anyone else.

You just needed to trust him.

“Okay…” You breath, nodding your head as Joel does.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sucking in a deep breath. the fire crackles and pops in the silence that follows, both of you lost in the comforting presence of the other. When Joel leans back there’s a smile playing on his lips. “You’re wrong by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Jules never shoots his gun like that. You’re thinking of Menace To Society.” Your mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Yes he does! When he has that guy kneeling on the floor!”

Joel laugh with a shake of his head. “Nu-uh sweetheart. You’re wrong.”

You glare up at him, and his smile broadens, “We will just have to see about that.”

Your challenge only earns you a deep chuckle, before he pulls you in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “What do I get when I prove you wrong?” The suggestion in his words reflect in his eyes, the deep dark brown swimming with excitement. a flush works up your neck, your hand tightening on the front of his shirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad we will never find out.” Joel lets out a little growl, squeezing your waist playfully making you squirm.

“Just you wait, little one. You’re in for it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @halfburntout @scorpionsaintt

[skzdarlings]

content info: the much requested follow-up. the dynamic is the same as earlier. they've been sleeping together for a week so assume safe sex is handled if not mentioned. making love, light dirty talk, nervous but excited reader. explicit sexual content. word count: 2000 words.

enjoy <3

-

Minho crosses the finish line seconds before you. 

He emerges from his vehicle without much pomp.  His expression is stoic as ever, only the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.  He draws a leather jacket over his shoulders as his little entourage congratulates him, jumping up and down like the over-hyper groupies they are.

You sit in your car, tightly gripping your steering wheel.  You are still hot from the thunder of the race, heart still pounding with adrenaline, and a new sensation throbbing under your skin.  

The crowd believes this is about money and status.  In the week since your quasi-truce, that is all you have bet out loud.  Between you, the stakes are very different.

If you win, we fuck, Minho said that night.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?

You told him there was no difference, then he put you on your knees and made you admit otherwise. 

You tied that first race and he conceded to your whim.  You have won every race since and not because he let you.  After all, he freely admitted you were the better racer.  This isn’t about that anymore.

You look out your window.  He is surrounded by people but looking at you, that smirk strengthening when he meets your gaze.  You feel a punch of heat that has nothing to do with car engines, a skip of the heart that has nothing to do with racing. 

You get out of your car.  Minho says nothing, simply holds out his hand for the cash winnings.  You put the money in his hands.

You refuse to look at him.  You are not scared you will accidentally reveal the truth to the crowd.  You’re not even scared you will reveal the true depth of your feelings to him. 

You are scared that looking in his eyes will force you to see the truth – that you want this, want him, in this way and so much more. 

“Until the next race,” he says, winking and clicking his tongue. 

Ugh.  You want to claw him to pieces – preferably up and down his backside as he fucks you. 

But that’s just it, isn’t it?  He isn’t going to fuck you tonight.  He isn’t going to bend you over the hood of his car or put you on your knees and yank your hair while fucking your mouth.  He isn’t going to keep his hand between your thighs until you’re sobbing and begging for reprieve and he isn’t going to tear through your clothes and mark your skin with his teeth. 

What are we doing? he asked that first night.  His fingers were on your tongue and his eyes were on you.  He looked at you like you were the only prize that ever meant anything to him.  

Making love, you said. 

The words were unfamiliar, not suited to your fast lifestyle. 

The words somehow came naturally with him. 

When the night draws to a natural close, he approaches where you are leaning against your car.  Your arms are crossed defensively over your chest and his hands are in his pockets.  His canter is nonchalant, his smirk subtle, but his eyes intense. 

“Your place?” you ask.  You are desperate to speak first, as if that might hide your nerves – more importantly, that it might hide your excitement.

“Mmm, no,” he says, crinkling his nose.  He tips his head and that smirk gets even meaner.  “Your place.  You drive.  I’ll follow.”

He walks to his car before you can retort. 

The last two nights, you went back to his apartment, and that already felt like a major concession on your part.  Backseats and the night sky is more your style.  You like liminal, empty spaces, a no-man’s-land, a place that can easily be left behind.  Agreeing to go to his place was daunting.  Even before he laid you out and made you come an easy dozen times, you knew it would feel different, feel more. 

Now you are going to your home.  There will truly be no escaping him. 

It is terrifying how much you don’t want to race away. 

You pull up outside the apartment building.  He follows you inside, hands in his pockets, still so casual.  You stand on opposite sides of the elevator, staring at each other in the silence as the floors tick and tick one by one, higher and higher.

The elevator doors open and he smiles. You are out of smart remarks.  

You walk quickly but he keeps pace behind you.  He is the only one who could ever keep up with you. 

When he brought you back to his place, he wasted no time.  He pressed you against the door and tore through buttons, working you up right there in the hall.  It was fast and dirty, just like always. 

He keeps his hands in his pockets tonight.  You can feel him looking at you, his eyes burning on your backside while you fumble uncharacteristically with your key.   It would be easier if he just shoved his way inside and took what he wanted and left again. 

But that’s the other thing – he doesn’t want fast, does he?  He’s a good man, much to your chagrin, and he has been happy to let you take the lead, to do what makes you more comfortable.  But he wants this, every breath loud between you, every heartbeat counted in the long moments, aching with anticipation.

It feels like forever before you get your door open.  The apartment is small, a bathroom on the immediate left, a little kitchen ahead of that, then the main studio.  You don’t spend much time in here, really just for sleeping, so the walls are landlord special white and the bed is plain and neat.  Everything is functional and necessary.  You are not one for indulgence.  You are always racing onto the next thing.

“Well,” you say, flipping on the light.  “This is me.” 

He turns off the light.  The windows are tall and there is plenty of moonlight but it still startles you. 

He touches your waist and you lose your breath.  How is that even possible?  You have raced and run and dashed headlong through faster fucking and it never winded you.  Now, he holds your waist, pulls you back against him, fits his whole body behind yours, and you can hardly breathe. 

“Easy,” he says.  His other hand comes around you, cups your throat lightly.  It is not mean, not nasty, not hard choking or demanding dominance.  It’s soft, just a quiet request. 

Your body answers, softening against him.  You whisper his name.

He kisses your exposed neck.  It’s a soft press of his lips, over and over, and it leaves you shuddering. 

“Is this it?” you say, aiming for snark but landing shakily.  “Making love is just slower fucking?”

“It can be,” Minho says, his voice unexpectedly gentle and light.  “It can be like this—”  He bites your neck but it feels different than usual, not mean for the sake of it, but like a claiming.  You feel yourself get tight, every muscle clenching, a gasp bursting out of you.   “If that’s what you like,” he finishes, punctuating with an amused little giggle like the menace he is. 

“And if…”  You take a breath.  “If I don’t know what I like?” 

He pauses.  His hands fall away.  You hear the shuffle of leather as his jacket hits the floor.  Then his hands are back on your waist and he turns you around. 

You have seen a range of expressions from this man.  You know his exasperation, his anger, his sarcasm, his laughter.  The look he gives you now is devastatingly tender, even with a sparkle in his eye that is so distinctly Lee Minho. 

He flicks his thumb over his bottom lip and winks. 

“Then we better find out,” he says. 

At first, it’s not so different.  Minho kisses you breathless and strips you slowly.  You stumble to the bed and sprawl across the sheets, on your back, holding his face as he makes his way down your body. 

He is not slow here, no doubt feeling the tension in your thighs as he puts them over his shoulders.  You are keyed up and ready, desperately bucking towards his mouth.  He is thorough, finding a circling rhythm with his tongue that never speeds or slows. 

You are careening over the edge of climax in a matter of moments.  It is almost embarrassingly fast, but he never gloats or teases, at least not about this.  It just makes him moan into the skin of your thighs, his wet mouth moving across your skin.  He climbs up your body and kisses every inch of you on the way. 

Now, now, it’s all different.   Now his eyes are dark and intense, staring down at you while he gets his jeans off.  You touch his bare chest, feeling more exposed when he stares into your eyes than when he looks at your body. 

You close your eyes, instinctively squirming when he pulls your leg around his hips. 

“No, no, no escaping,” he says, pinning you in place, not just with his hands but with a push of his hips.

Hip to hip, his cock nestled inside your pussy, you are aching for him to move or come or do something.  He just looks at you, kisses you a few times, and lets the reality of every inch of him settle inside your mind as much as your body.

“Minho,” you say, in a whimpering voice you hardly recognize as yourself.  “Please.” 

“Tell me,” he says, finally, slowly rolling his hips against yours.  “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good.  Good.” 

“Just good?” he asks, those rolling thrusts a little sharper, his skin against yours, chests touching, mouths close.  “Tell me you love it,” he says.  “Tell me you need it.”

“I need it,” you say.  “I love – I love it.”

You almost say I love you, which is insane and impossible.  You obviously don’t love him.   You definitely don’t hate him anymore, but love is a foreign word.

You start to understand it, just a little, with your legs around his waist and his whole body snug against yours.  He feels deeper than usual somehow, or maybe you just feel it more, as he takes his time, as he drags his cock slowly in and out of your throbbing wet heat. 

“That’s it,” he says, so infuriatingly precise with his hip movements.  

No matter how extreme fucking got, you always kept your wits, perpetually armed even then.  Now, you feel like all your usual weapons have disintegrated.  You are vulnerable and open and you just want more, especially when he sighs so sweetly, especially when he moans into your skin, when he is as uncharacteristically soft and loving as you are. 

Of course he is.  Your depths run as deep as your hearts run fast. 

“You’re going to come,” he says, holding your gaze, his hand between your bodies.  “Baby,” he says, voice breaking with his own need. 

It makes you gasp, squeezing him, your hands pressing into his shoulders as he makes you see stars. 

“Yes, yes, baby,” he says.  “Get so tight for me when you’re so sweet.  Come for me.  You want it.  You love it.  You need it.  Show me.”

You do, clinging to him when you come, calling out his name.  It seems to last longer than usual, one crest rolling into the next, extended by the relentless rocking of his hips.  He chases his own pleasure inside you, looking at you then kissing you.  He comes with his mouth on yours, tongues touching, wet and messy and hot. 

After, he lays on top of you, both of you catching your breath.  You run your fingers through his hair without thinking.  You are about to stop when his whole body seems to get soft, a breath leaving his lips, his head pillowed on your chest. 

“Not bad,” you eventually say. 

He laughs, lifting his head to look down at you.  You can’t help but smile back, though you also force an eye-roll because that’s just how you are. 

Then he kisses you, soft, taking his time, like he has nowhere else to be tonight, like he intends on staying forever. 

You surprise you both by kissing back as softly.

You don’t know about forever, not yet, but you want him to stay right now. 

You roll over together, kissing and tangled up, hearts pounding against each other, and ready for another race to the next adventure. 

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[wild-rise]

Sunshine

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut MDNI 18+

Summary: After a stressful day and years of animosity between you and Daryl the dynamics of your power struggle finally gets resolved. Safe to say you're finally put in your place.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Reader is a brat, Soft!Dom Daryl, Kinda mean Daryl, Teasing, Oral (M!receiving) Face F!cking, Binding (Readers wrists), Dirty Talk, Pervy Daryl, Thigh Riding, Just the t!p, P in V penetration, unprotected (Wrap it before you tap it folks), creampie. I think that's it...

“How ‘bout runnin’ that by me one more time sunshine?” Daryl gruffs out cocking his head to you making sure he wasn’t going crazy because there’s no way in hell you just said what he thinks you did.

“Your hearing going out now Dixon?” Just before you reach the door of his room you turn to face him again, invading his space, craning your head up to make sure the message gets through his thick skull this time.

 “Fuck. You. You redneck piece of shit.” The words cutting like knives as they roll off your tongue. Daryl holds his composure as he looks down at you and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“If you want to so bad all ya have to do is ask nicely.” That same smirk dancing on his lips. He made every nerve in your body boil till you only saw red. Daryl knew how to push every single button to set you off and get under your skin.

Without warning Daryl’s face is hit with your saliva “Fucking pig.” You’re seething at this point and now any hint of playfulness in Daryl’s features is gone. You turn on your heels to leave when suddenly his large hand wraps around your arm pulling you back to his hard chest.

“You’re a goddamn bitch ya know that?” Daryl practically growls the words at you as he wipes the spit off his face with the back of his hand.

“No. You’re just an inconsiderate asshat that’s just looking out for himself like always.” The venom of your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Daryl as he holds you close noticing the heat radiating off your skin and your scent invading his senses.

“I’m the only reason you’re alive right now so if you know what’s good for you, I suggest you drop it, Sunshine.” That stupid nickname he gave you back on the farm had its way of making a shit situation even shittier and Daryl knew, that’s why he made sure to draw out each syllable.

There can never be a civil interaction between the two of you. You’ve been together for so long, but the animosity never faded. Rick even tried locking you both in a cell together at the prison but after three hours of arguing he let both of you out and go separate ways. No one bothered to intervene and after that your relationship simply stayed stagnant.  

Right now, as much as it pained you he was right. The only reason you’re standing here is because he followed you on your hunt which turned sour when your kill was taken by walkers. The loss made you unhinged, being the final straw to break your back after all the tragedy your community suffered after the whispers. You went on dropping body after body till you were starting to get outnumbered, but your stubbornness never let up. Daryl noticing your struggle and intervened before you could get hurt but to his surprise you turned your rage towards him before storming off back to Alexandira.

Bringing you back here telling off Daryl for being… helpful? Honestly the stress of everything you’ve endured and the loss the community has suffered is getting to you and you need a release, and Daryl is the only one who can take it.

Taking a deep breath as you hold eye contact with him you’re finally registering just how close the two of you are. His breath fanning over your face, hand still holding tightly to your arm and that’s when the intrusive ideas locked away in the deepest parts of your mind finally come to light. “And what exactly is best for me Daryl? Hm? Please do tell.” Your voice is barely above a whisper now.

 “Is that you askin nicely?” he says watching the shift in your demeanor and matching your tone.

“Don’t push it Dixon.” The sternness in your voice lacking conviction and Daryl decided then what he was going to do with you.

He brings his other hand up to your face cupping your check and leaning down just about to kiss you when “Ask nicely. Sunshine.” He says right on your lips. How could he be even more frustrating, especially at a time like this. “Tell me what’s best for me. Please.” Sarcasm dripping on your every word. The fire in you is impossible to extinguish and honestly, it’s what Daryl loves about you so much and he’d die before he ever saw it put out but right now it needs to desperately be controlled.

“How bout ya let me show you.” And as quickly as the words fall from his mouth, he’s pressing his lips to yours. His actions are filled with hunger and desire as a mixture of saliva form between you. Your hands come up to find purchase on his broad shoulders as he deepens the kiss exploring every inch of your mouth. “Get on your knees. Now” the words going straight to your cunt but the brat in you can’t help but be defiant. “Ask nicely.” You mock him and the hand cupping your cheek travels to the back of your head grasping your hair tightly and dragging you down to your knees. “You just don’t know when to fuckin quit do ya? That shit stops now you understand?” The tenderness on your scalp stings from his grip but you welcome the sensation as a soft whimper leaves you confirming Daryl’s suspicion.

You wanted someone to put you in your place and take control. You didn’t want to have to think just do what you’re told and feel something other than the suffering you’ve endured.

“That so hard? Now, can you get my belt off or do ya need help with that too?” Realizing your predicament, you reach your hands up to undo his belt and pull down his zipper. Daryl releases his hand from your hair before pulling his belt off through the loops of his pants. “Hands behind your back.” Doing exactly what he says Daryl comes behind you tying your hands behind your back with his belt. Anticipation floods your body as Daryl stands back in front of you pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. The angry red tip directly in your face leaking precum and begging for a release. He was bigger than you imagined and the thought of him ramming your throat made your panties even more wet than before.

“Open up sunshine.” Lolling your tongue out Daryl slowly pushes his cock past your lips a little at a time allowing you to get comfortable with the position. Once you get a steady rhythm of sucking and licking his length Daryl’s hands return to your hair pulling you off him.

“Should’ve known cock would shut you up.” Daryl groans as he slides back into the warmness of your mouth. The sounds he made were almost heavenly enough to distract you from the pain in the back of your throat... almost. Your pace is quickly abandoned as Daryl starts bucking his hips in your face stuffing your throat full of his cock. Tears stream down your cheeks and the pressure from his belt straining on your wrists start to make your head dizzy and you can hardly breathe. “Fucking hell sunshine your takin me so well.” Daryl stops holding your head at the base of his dick till you start squirming from the lack of oxygen and he pulls you off completely. Taking a gasp of air trying to regain composure, you whine when he hoists you back up onto your feet.

“You gonna stop being a bitch or should I just let you finish sucking my dick and leave you here to take care of yourself?” He asks in such a kind way, but his actions moments ago were anything but. “I’ll stop. Promise, please Daryl.” You cry at him just needing something more as the desire grew within you. “Good girl. See I knew you had it in you.” He takes his belt off your wrists and has the rest of your garments following suit. Daryl guides you to lie on his bed and the vulnerable feeling of being completely exposed while he’s still fully dressed has your cheeks burning red. Daryl bends down to pick up your soaked panties, bring them to his face and takes a deep breath before shoving them in his back pocket. “Constellation prize.” He winks at you as you moan desperate for him to do anything to you.

“Are you going to actually touch me or just keep being a perv?” You groan at him as he pulls off his clothes joining you on his bed. “Just takin my time, don’t be so impatient.” You want to cry from the pressure building up at your cunt. Daryl could tell how needy you were from how much you’ve been pressing your thighs together chasing any type of satisfaction. Caging you between his forearms he slots a leg between yours adding pressure to your long awaiting cunt. Your arousal is prominent enough to leave remanence behind on his leg, but he doesn’t move. “Go on, hump my leg like the bitch you are.” His words hushed into your ear make the tears come back to your eyes. He was being so mean, and it was turning you on so much. With a strangled moan you started dragging your hips up and down, rubbing against his leg as he marked up and down your neck and chest leaving a path of hickeys and bruises. Your hips started bucking faster as you felt that familiar sensation of your approaching orgasm but just as you were about to let go Daryl pulls his thigh away from you.

“Daryl please I’m s-so ssorry I’ll be nice I’ll do whatever you want just plea-please make me cum.” You were a sight to behold, so worked up and desperate just for him and oh how he loved it. “Since you asked so nicely.” He leans down to give you a kiss but this time it was different. This time it lacked primal urgency from before, it was tender and attentive.

Now Daryl had your legs on either side of him as he lined his cock up with your dripping, aching pussy. He slowly pushed just the tip and watched your greedy cunt try to suck him in some more and your sobbing persisted. He leaned down peppering kisses along your jaw, shushing you trying to calm you down. “Next time I won’t be so harsh on ya if you use your manners, Sunshine.” Is all he whispers in your ear before sitting back up and ramming his entire length in you bottoming out.

Your cries and moans are so loud he’s pretty sure someone’s going to come down thinking you’re in danger, but he could care less because the sounds you’re making right now are music to his ears. The way he’s pressing your legs apart sends a burn through your thighs and your breasts are bouncing at the rhythm of his thrusts. “Doing so fuckin good for me f-fuck this pussy’s just suckin me in S-Sunshine.” His tough guy act falters as he speeds up his pace. Daryl quickly puts your legs onto his shoulders allowing him to hit that one spot deep in your body that has you seeing stars.

“Oh, fuck Daryl yes, yes right there oh my god please d-don’t stop.”  You cry out begging him for your release. "Wasn't plannin' on it. Fuck it's like this pussy was made for me." Daryl keeps up the same pace and brings a hand down rubbing tight circles on your clit. The added stimulation is enough to send you over the edge moaning Daryl’s name over and over again. The spasming of your cunt has him losing the fight of holding off his orgasm as he finishes deep inside you. “Fucking take it. F-fuck take it all.” He says while he delivers the final thrusts riding out both of your highs.

    Daryl rolls over, bringing you into his chest and caresses your hair while you both try to catch your breath. “What do you say? Hm?”

You look up at him through your lashes and taking in his disheveled appearance you realize this is a sight you could easily get used too.  “Thank you. Daryl.” Your voice is hoarse from the amount of screaming and moaning he pulled from you which sparked pride to flood through his chest.

“You are very welcome, Sunshine.” He feels content finally taming your fire as he traces patterns on your back while you slowly drift off to sleep.

[majinbangus]

Deeply curious about the conversation Soap and Ghost had before introducing Ghost as your guard dog. is this a regular part of their dynamic and they both missed it after soap got with you? Was it a forgone conclusion? Did one of them have to talk the other around to it? Lowkey (highkey) obsessed with this concept

i really love this ask -> more here

So before Soap brought Ghost home to you, Soap and Ghost didn't really have that 'owner/pet' dynamic, but the behavior was still there, kinda, if that makes sense?

Like, Ghost is always watching Soap's back and protecting him from something or someone, or he's standing back as the 'scary one' until Soap hands him the reigns while they're interrogating someone. Ghost is willing to follow Soap's lead, trusting the sergeant's judgments/plans/decisions, and he'll be there to 'save his arse' when he needs saving. That's a tacit understanding between them, and Soap knows that he can always count on Ghost to back him up.

This behavior does eventually leak into their day to day lives once they get more comfortable with each other, but it's not fully realized until much later. The epiphany only hits while he's on a mission. The one right before Soap was planning on telling you he'll compromise on getting a dog. He'd been thinking about how much you wanted one, and thought getting one of the retired military dogs would be a good compromise, albeit he was still extremely on the fence, even though he's worked alongside those dogs and the trainers before.

But while that was in the back of his head during the mission, Ghost told Soap to tell him when he had a clear shot of an enemy because he was in a shit position, and when Soap told Ghost to 'wait' and when to 'drop, 'em', that's when the lightbulb went off and Soap began reminiscing and noting every time Ghost behaved similarly to a dog, protective yet ready to defend- to bite. He listened to Soap's cues and body language, stepping in whenever needed.

Soap couldn't stop thinking about it. Ghost and his sweet lass. He didn't mind sharing, the match would be perfect. Ghost fit all the qualities Soap wanted your guard dog to have, and you would have a dog just like you wanted!

When he brought it up to Ghost, it doesn't take much to convince him to get on board with it. The man's interest was piqued. Soap was asking him to be a dog. Your dog. He already liked you, thought you were a pretty thing, and he was always willing to go along with what Soap wanted. He didn't mind embracing an owner/pet dynamic with you and to another extent, Soap. You wanted a dog and that's what Soap was asking him to be, so that's what he would do.

He'd have to figure things out with his military service, but that could be settled later. Soap told him he still had to tell you about the compromise, but once that was done, he'd be taking Ghost home with him. And once he did, as expected, Ghost took to the role as your guard dog swimmingly.

(Soap knew he made the right decision when Ghost barked for you, the new collar hanging prettily on his neck. He knew this wasn't what you were expecting, but you would learn to love your new dog, and Soap would be there to teach you everything you needed to know how to care for him too.)

[redflowersociety]

HEADLOCK - [Mouthwashing]

Part 1 - Part 2

It is the year 40xx: almost twenty years since what took place on the pony express cargo ship. You currently work in a space station settled right outside the dwarf planet Haphestus. While reviewing recent data of nearby free-floating objects, an abnormally large mass is located: it’s a cargo ship.

A/N: Hi! I had the idea for a… fix-it au for Mouthwashing with the inclusion of self indulgent Jimmy who takes responsibility. Generally, this is hopefully going to explore all the crew members dynamics if they survived. Basically the entire plot of the game is changed around…. So only read if you’re up for that!!

The sound of a printer buzzing and squeaking pulled your attention off the letter in front of you, and subsequently, the soreness in your chest, if only for a moment. Blinking your burning vision back into focus, you grabbed the warm papers and shifted the letter to the side, replacing its spot in front of you with the fresh inked reports. You sorted through each paper by area code, your brain pulsating at sheer amount of numbers. You rubbed at your temple as you copied down the information into a more organized spreadsheet. Once you got that done, you placed the papers into their respective folders on the wall across the room. You stood up with the hand-written spreadsheet, and exited your office, making your way down the metal corridors.

For the past 5 years, you had been the secretary of the space station settled just outside of the dwarf planet Haphestus (named for being a colony full of factories.) Your job brought along many responsibilities: The safety of the planet you guarded, and of course, filing all the data from nearby space junk to send back down to the planet. Whenever people ask what the job is like, you make a point to explain to them just how engaging it is to do the latter, making no effort to hide your sarcasm.

After a shaky knock at the door, your captain gave the okay to enter her office. “ Mx. Harold!” She greeted you with her usual polite, empty cheeriness.

“Miss. Riley, hey. Here’s the space junk data,” you spoke with less enthusiasm than you meant to, which caused an immediate jolt of panic to shoot through your body. Your hands shook as you placed the sheets onto her desk, and you knew in your gut that she noticed.

“You alright, dear?” She leaned forward in her chair, sliding the papers to the side. Her gaze was so sharp, it was as if it was shooting a bullet hole right through your face.

“I-..I’m alright, sorry, I’m just tired, drank coffee.” You swallowed, taking small, hesitant steps towards the door.

“You can tell me if something is wrong, you know.” She started to stand. Smiling.

“I’m alright, thank you.” You nearly choked on those words, having been standing there without breathing in for a considerable number of seconds. You turned-

“Sit down with me.” She stopped hiding her commands underneath the guise of a kind request. You did as you were told. Miss Riley shifted through the spreadsheets as you sat across from her for what felt like hours. Eventually, her fingertip traced down to a particular column. “You really should be more careful.” She flipped the paper to you, pointing out your mistake. You took a closer look now, having simply been copying and sorting without much thought. The object reported from the scans was unusually big, obscenely sized, and was reported to have the mass of iron.

“…Miss Riley, I just copied what I saw on the scanner reports.” you stammered, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

As if upset with you for having brought the information to her, she groaned, leaning back in her chair and turning her gaze to the screen on her left. As if she had seen a ghost, her eyes went large and her mouth hung slightly agape.

“…Miss Riley?”

Exploring old, decrepit cargo ships was never part of your job description. But, considering there being no protocol put in place for such a circumstance, Miss Riley found no issue in making you do it anyways. the sound of metal scraping against itself, and whirring pistons behind you made you jump. The doors were closed. You were on this ship, and had no choice but to look around all alone. You used a test strip to test for breathable air, and once confirmed, took off your oxygen helmet. The damn thing was way too heavy to walk around with.

The bright flashlight in your hand did little to soothe you in the middle of this darkness. The sheer amount of dust getting kicked up with your every step assaulted your nose and made you sneeze more times than you could count. On top of that, it blurred all that was more than five feet in front of you. For a moment, you considered putting the helmet back on.

Stepping through metal corridors with exposed pipes and circuitry, an unusual foam coating the walls in patches; the scenery, the darkness, and the silence aside from your one footsteps, created an ambiance that brought shivers up your spine. you spent a while searching- coming across various rooms.

You had to pry your way in, as the lack of power in the ship meant not a single automatic door, but when you stumbled into the medbay, the first thing that hit you was the smell of iron and rot. blood stained bandages and browned sheets on the stretcher- pill bottles, some empty and some not so much. The labels all read as some outdated pain medication. What really caught your eye was the case left ajar on the crusted stretcher. You recognized the red rim and the outline of a pistol in the foam bottom. This was an empty gun box.

dread beginning to set in, you backed out of the room, sliding back through the half-open door and into the hall. You found yourself in a communal room. It was messy; blood splatters along the table and floor, and a giant broken screen by some dusty couches. “What the fuck happened here,” You wondered aloud.

In no rush, as the fear that gathered in your stomach threatened to paralyze you from the waist down, you headed back into the halls. Eventually, under the crack of a metal door, and through its shattered glass window, was a light blue glow that was jarring compared to the darkness of the rest of the scenery.

“Is this…” you had a feeling about the contents of this room based off that familiar glow. You pried your way inside, slipping yourself through the halfway opened slit you created. In front of you was the jarringly bright shine of 5 active cryopods. The ships power must have allocated to this single room…You were sure of it. You tapped swiftly on your wrist.

“Captain… there are people in here.”

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal 🫡 let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <😭3 ⬇️

Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly

Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested.

don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

why did this line hit me so deep???

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

the way i went—

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven.

u mesh so well with canon events 🩷🙂‍↕️

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

so bf of him

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

why is this so funny LOLL

“You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”“That’s so sweet.”

im literally gonna miss them sm 😭

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.

FEARRRR

“Let’s go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

such a cute ending <3

FINAL THOUGHTS • i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”