#it was so viscerally uncomfortable and I almost decided to not even get it in the first place because i was worried about something like

[rebellum]

concept: me, several months ago, going to get my second monkeypox vaccine, and tbh putting it off for a few months because the experience of getting my first dose was so uncomfortable. I walk up to the first person I have to pass by. when she says "UM you KNOW this vaccine is JUST for gay men, RIGHT?" in a really judgemental way, instead of the real awkward response I gave, I instead say "oh, yeah, my boyfriend calls me a faggot during sex, it's all good."

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Kinktober day 21, Biting - Toby, GN

You might be wondering, Aubrie, didn't you say you'd only post these written out on AO3 so they'd all be together? And, yes, I did say that, but I am making today an exception because I feel this fic is very viscerally my canon yandere Toby and I want it on the blog.

You can still click right here to find it on AO3 and leave any comments or kudos as that would be much appreciated <3

But I also just. I wanted this to be in my yandere tag, as I finally wrote yandere Toby and biting with actual smut.

CWs for this one; dub-con into possible consent, biting, blood, depictions of gore, cannibalism as a very direct metaphor for love, I guess cannibalism as love???, Toby being insane, Reader losing themselves to his insanity, Stockholm syndrome. It really just is Toby basically biting and kind of eating the reader while reader can't decide if they consent or not. (There's also some secret lyrics from a song hidden in there I was listening to while writing <3)

I had a very visceral reaction in one of the ending scenes of this and had to tone it down because it made me so uncomfortable, but I do really REALLY love this as one of my yandere Toby fics. Please enjoy <3

"It wo-wouldn't be so bad if y-you stopped resisting." His tone did little to calm your anxious squirming, his hips holding your own down, hands restraining yours above your head. The blood that coated his lips wasn't his own, and the soreness in your shoulder pressed the tears blooming in your eyes to trail free. You knew from past experience that regardless of how hard you struggled or resisted, even if you'd fully submit to him, the pain would still sting with the same intensity, and he'd provoke you however he could to get a reaction out of you. You opened your mouth to respond, and his eyes narrowed in warning for you not to speak.

"Just let me h-have some f-fun." A twisted smile blooming on his cheeks had you trembling once more as he pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and pressed it jarringly softly into your abdomen, slicing cleanly through your clothing but leaving your skin free of blood. No, Toby wouldn't cut you with it, he'd much rather draw the blood out of your skin himself. He licked his lips, your blood smearing across them, as he watched your clothes peel off your skin, and he switched both of your wrists into one of his larger hands so he could remove your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him as his eyes devoured you.

It was one of the few times he still looked soft and loving, when his hooded eyes roamed your figure, his hand softly tracing and caressing with a gentleness you were rarely given. It was moments like this where you could almost believe he still loved you, that he was still your sweet, caring Toby that you'd fallen in love with, but the blood shining on his teeth as he smiled at you was quick to squash that thought. Hand trailing back up your body to rest at your throat, squeezing firmly as he looked over your face, your eyes widening in fear, tears staining your cheeks, the giggle leaving his throat far too happy.

"S-so cute!" He cooed at you, leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, his tongue slipping out to lick up the remaining drops of tears on your skin, leaving a watery red trail as it went. His licks turned to kisses once more as he pressed them fervently to your lips, giving you a taste of the iron of your blood, before pausing with an irritated sigh as he backed up from you. "Don't m-move them." He glared at you as he painfully squeezed your wrists, and you nodded quickly, wanting the pain to cease. He finally released you, but you obeyed, out of fear more than anything else, and with his extra hand he was quick to begin working his pants off, his mouth once more on yours, impatient moans leaving him as his body twitched above you. You had little time to react as his hands touched you once more, hoisting your legs up and revealing the vulnerable area between your thighs, his grip intentionally squeezing into the areas he'd bruised violently earlier that evening. He separated from your lips once more to appraise the area, a smile far too wide appearing on his face as he began to pump his cock, lining himself up at your entrance without any preparation.

"Toby, wait, please, you haven't-" Your words were halted by a cry tearing from your throat as he pushed inside of you anyway, a deep groan leaving his throat as the warmth of your body enveloped him. He narrowed his eyes at you once more, his hand grabbing yours, bringing it to his lips as he pressed delicate kisses to your wrists. Your heart was thudding in your chest, a whine already leaving your throat as you could feel what was coming. "W-what makes y-you think you d-deserve preparation?" It was chilling, how cold and cruel his voice could be, but before you could respond tears were leaking from your eyes once more as he teasingly nipped at your wrist, before plunging his teeth into the soft skin of it.

Your head tipped back with a scream and it caused him to moan in response, his cock throbbing inside of you as he began to move in and out of you in slow thrusts, his teeth pressing firmer and firmer into your wrist until he could taste your blood on his tongue once more. It was the same process, every single time he wanted to fuck you, every time he wanted to pleasure himself without a care in the world for if you wanted this or not. His tongue lapped eagerly at your bleeding wrist as he fucked into you, moans slipping out of him as easily as tears and cries were slipping out of you. You wanted to hurt him, to make him experience the same pain he'd make you experience every day, but the fear of what would happen if you tried, keeping your right arm held above your head as he continued to hold your left, the throbbing in your broken ankles a reminder not to cross him.

You tried your best to focus on the pleasure, to focus on his cock moving in and out of you instead of on his teeth trailing further up your arm, a trail of red smearing across your skin in a way he always described as divinely bewitching. Your cries alternating between moans from the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls to sobs from a particularly painful bite had Toby losing himself above you, his hips stuttering as he'd lose focus of his thrusting and slip above you. By the time he'd made it back to your throat your arm was beginning to go numb from the pain lacing through it, his mouth once again smeared with blood as he hovered above you, panting heavily as he rutted into you as if his life depended on it. His eyes roamed over your body, looking for purchase, looking for the next place he wanted to destroy with his teeth, and as they always did, his eyes landed on his favorite area of your body. He descended to press passionate kisses to your jaw, trailing them down your neck and licking and sucking, lavishing you with attention as your moans increased in volume. Despite his rough treatment, you could feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your end as he hammered into the spot that would always make your vision go white. You finally broke the rule of not moving your hands to wrap them around his back, gripping onto him for stability in a way that made him think you were enjoying this far more than you were.

"T-that's i-it! Keep enjoying y-yourself!" The excitement in his voice had chills running down your spine, but you couldn't argue back, preferring to surrender yourself to the pleasure fogging up your mind and making you forget who you were and where you were, making you forget who the monster doing this to you was. Your mind buzzed, your vision blurring from the mix of euphoria and blood loss, spacing out and dissociating as you surrendered your body to the man who lived solely to defile it. It was so beautiful, your spacey expression, the blood mixing across your skin, his head was reeling, doing his best to show you just how much he loved you. Causing all of this blood to spill out of you, licking it up and drowning in it, it made him feel so high, so positively intoxicated, presenting his love to you in the deep red color coating your skin. He was so giddy, so filled with absolute joy at the thought that maybe you were finally starting to love him again, that you'd no longer found him so unusual, that you were accepting that this was your life now, embracing it and treasuring it just as he did. Oh, it made him so happy! He felt as if he could explode from euphoria as his pace increased, animalistic grunts and groans roaring out of him as he did his best to try and make you feel as good as he did.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, maybe not since the first time he'd done this to you. That fateful day all those years ago when he'd lured you here on the false promise of it being an adventurous date, only to lock you up in here forever, right where you belonged. To pin you down and bloody your body, to force himself on you in a way he'd been longing to for far too long, it had been the most exciting day of his life, defiling your body and showing you how much he loved you, the way he loved you. You were the only person whose blood he'd tasted, and it goes to show how much he loved you, that tasing your blood was in fact how he loved you. Drawing blood, your life force, out of you and indulging in it as if it were the finest meal in the entire world, what better way was there to express his unending devotion to you? He recentered himself from memory lane by licking your blood off of his teeth, his eyes rolling back into his head as he trembled above you. There was no better feeling than doing this, and knowing you were finally enjoying it as much as he did was driving him unquestionably insane.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you zoned out, floating above your body in the space between pleasure and unconsciousness, but you'd soon find yourself pulled back down to earth. As your orgasm slammed into you, you'd felt yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not from pleasure, but from Toby sinking his teeth all the way into the side of your neck, squishing your flesh and causing blood to soak the bed beneath you as his impulses took over him, giddy laughter and moans vibrating from deep inside of him as he gorged himself on your blood and skin. You clawed and screamed and begged, but he wouldn't let go of you, not when he met his own climax right alongside you, not when he coughed and choked on the blood filling up his mouth, not when he slipped his tongue inside of your neck, slid it through the gaping holes his top and bottom teeth had left inside of you and had you crying out from pain and discomfort. It was revolting, it was disgusting, it was violating, it was quite possibly the worst thing he's ever made you feel, and yet it had been the very thing to trigger your orgasm and have you falling apart underneath him. Your cries shifted from pain to revulsion at your body for enjoying such a thing, and an incredibly dark thought focused in your mind, the realization that over the last few years, he'd been conditioning you, conditioning your body to accept this, to associate it with pleasure. His cock throbbed inside of you, throbbed like your arm, throbbed like your neck, and it felt good. You felt euphoric in a way you'd never felt before, and as he curled up beside you, as he pressed his lips to yours, as your blood coated the inside of your mouth as his tongue caressed yours, a horribly intrusive and repulsive thought you'd been promising yourself you'd never have filled your mind as you lost yourself to the darkness of blood loss. Were you falling in love with him again, in love with this monster, this horribly sick man? And, even worse…

Were you finally starting to enjoy it?

[bunnybubae]

(M)🚦Red Light: The Fear | Ch1 [JJK]

👉🏻[Series Masterpost]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (GymOwner!JK/MotoRacer!JK/Biker!JK-TattoArtist!OC)

Genre: S2L - Smut - Fluff - Angst

Summary: Jeon Jungkook never lets any distraction take him away from his motorcycle or his gym for more than one night. He just wants to speed around the track and feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the sex he gets thanks to his charm, is just a side dish to his life. A tough past brought him on that Ducati that he learned to love, a past  you'll uncover, as you slowly seep in under his skin. It's a hell of a ride, in all senses, as you try to escape your own hell in the meanwhile.  Where will this ride bring you? Will it be worth it in the end?

Chapter Warnings: This chapter describes an episode of harassment (it involves an unwanted kiss), please be aware of this if this theme makes you uncomfortable, description of past emotional abuse (manipulation, toxic jealousy), Angst, mention of alcohol consumption, Oc's ex is a stalker, cops are grossly negligent in this au, Tae and Hani to the rescue, Jk is hot af but this is nothing new.

Wc: 7.4k

A/N: Hello there! I've been planning this whole series for over a year and I'm finally able to make it come to life, slowly but surely! As always, I'm sorry if there are some grammatical mistakes, english isn't my first language and I don't have a beta, so pls bear with me! 🫶🏻

Let me know what you think about the series, my box is always open! - Joy 🐰

September 12th, Tuesday

The sun has already set, leaving the place to the colors of dusk.

You feel that your heart might explode in your chest at any moment. Is it the september evening breeze that's causing the chills covering your skin, or if it's all due to this visceral fear that's blocking your muscles right now? You can't quite tell.

After some extra hours at work, you thought you could finally close the tattoo shop in peace and go home to enjoy some leftover pizza in front of your laptop, but no- Ray evidently had other plans for you, deciding to unexpectedly visit you in the most unpleasant way possible. 

You wish Hani had stayed a little longer today to close the shop with you, because this sickening feeling it's becoming unbearable. You feel like a mouse in front of a ravenous cat and you want to scream, but you just don't find the courage to do it. 

He caught you off guard from behind, while you were looking for the keys in your bag, then he effortlessly spun you around on the spot and you found yourself blocked by your shoulders leaning against the entrance door of the shop. 

Your throat tightens as you struggle to breathe regularly. 

You're helpless and right now the only thing you can do is curse the day you replied to his message on Instagram, curse the invitation to participate at that damn workshop you and Hani organized for an exchange of advertising between tattoo artists. You can only curse that day and the following ones you spent with him. Of course you couldn't imagine that your perfect relationship would turn into such a nightmare, your ex used to be so kind and loving with you at the beginning, not even close to the obsessive, pleading mess that's keeping you trapped in utter fear right now. Jealousy can sometimes turn into such an obsession evidently, it can change people and you never expected something like this to happen in your life. Everything only got worse when after almost a year in your toxic relationship, you found the courage to finally break up with him. 

Weeks had passed since the last time Ray had disgusted you with his threatening messages and unexpected visits during work, you were almost convinced he had found another hobby but as a matter of fact, you were wrong. 

He understood that you can ignore his messages or even block his number for good, that you won't listen to him when Hani or your clients are around, but you certainly won't be able to ignore his forced presence, especially now that you're totally alone. He knows he has your undivided attention in this way.

He slurs something but you can't even pay attention. His inked arms are situated on each side of your head, while he looks down at you with desperate eyes. You don't even recognize him anymore. He used to take extra care of his appearance and health back when you two used to date, but now it seems like he is facing a grave problem with drinking. His body is close to yours, way too close for your liking and his warm breath mixed with whatever alcohol he drank, almost makes you gag. 

The smell of his cologne is the only thing that's still the same and that you recognize, it hits your nostrils and it brings back memories that now only hurt.

“Y/N, baby- why do you keep ignoring me like this?” his voice is strained and his face is contorted in anger- or nostalgia, you can't even tell. "You're killing me and I always treated you well" He is trying to stop the thoughts that are clouding his mind, slurring out the words breathlessly.

"I fucking miss you! I don't know what else to do to make you mine again!" 

These words are filled with desperation and you hate it, his need for possession is crystal clear in his statements. He threatened you multiple times saying that if you didn't get back together he would harm himself, claiming that the pain was too strong for him to bear, but he never said he wanted you back because he loved you, not even once. The only thing that he misses is controlling you, the only thing that he loves is taking away everything from you, putting himself at the center of your world.

He only wants to call you his, like a mere emotionless object. You hate it, you hate him.

He probably never wanted to take care of your heart as you believed and the realization that you were in love with him once, that his twisted feelings were strong for you but not in a healthy way, it makes you sick to your stomach. You should have known better, but you were blinded by your feelings.

There was a moment when you thought that you deserved this treatment, you told yourself that you allowed all of this because you were too naive to notice that those toxic feelings were poisoning your persona, till it was too late and they suffocated you, caging you. 

"G-get away from me" you manage to say in a small voice as your heart thunders in your ears. Your stomach twists in a knot when you sense his moving hands. The fear turns into pure horror when his hands find their way to rest on your cheeks a little too harshly and you instinctively hold your breath.

His drunken lips crash into yours with urgency, and you feel like you might throw up at all the disgusting sensations you are experiencing right now. Your body reacts of its own accord, rejecting this desperate, unwanted kiss before he could deepen it or do something worse. 

“I said get away from me!” you scream in a broken voice as you try to push him away with all the strength you possess. 

Ray is looking at you, almost surprised that you had the courage to reject him. Despite your effort he doesn't budge much, it's like his feet are planted to the ground. 

You're not able to meet his bloodshot eyes as you desperately try to free yourself. He's mumbling something that you can't quite comprehend and then his heavy hands are pushing your shoulders against the cold glass of the shop entrance, once again.

You didn't know you were crying until your vision started to blur with tears. This feeling of helplessness is the same one that kept you stuck in Ray's twisted love for months. 

Red flags were scattered all around, he started by making you doubt your abilities as an artist to then insistently ask you to pass all your male clients to Hani, co-owner of the shop as well as your best friend ever since you were children. She was the one who covered up your lies with Ray, as you tried to keep your clients aways from his madness.

He bulldozed everything around you, but Hani always stayed by your side, refusing to believe Ray's lies. She was your sturdy pillar when everything around you was falling apart. 

It was when Ray began to spread heavy lies about her, to lead you to break the agreements and contract with her, that you finally understood the gravity of the situation, that he was capable of totally ruining your life if you allowed him to manipulate you further. 

The threatening texts and stalking episodes that followed are nothing compared to what keeping a relationship with him could have entailed.

You're not sure when Ray started behaving in a toxic manner, cause you still remember the rosy beginning of your relationship and everything was just fine. Hani says she started noticing changes when he decided to surprise you one day at the shop and found the both of you engaged in a simple conversation with some male regulars. This evidently made him very jealous, because from that moment, the ordeal began. 

Your thoughts and sobbing are interrupted when Ray goes from mumbling pleas to insulting you with hatred, while his hands squeeze your shoulders as if to make sure to imprint on your skin all that he is feeling for you. 

You're not sure how you managed to free yourself from his grip, next thing you know you're running with all the strength you have left in your body, abandoning the alley of the shop to find a safer place. You hear him calling your name a couple of times as you put more and more distance between you. You fear that he might follow you and block you once again and the mere thought of finding yourself defenseless in the arms that once wrapped you with apparent affection, is enough to make new tears flow down your cheeks. 

The streets are almost empty and after reaching one that is well illuminated by shop signs, you look around to make sure he is not after you. When you make sure he is nowhere to be found, you grab your phone with shaky hands to call your best friend. You keep walking down the sidewalk as you try to calm your crying. 

“Y/N?” 

After a few rings, Hani answers the phone and hearing her voice ruins your desperate attempt to stay calm. You let out a liberating cry as you tell her that Ray really went too far this time. 

You knew that Hani had a date with her boyfriend, Taehyung, who she met several months ago at the shop. Tae got a tattoo from her and from that moment they became inseparable. You knew they were going out to dinner and you feel bad ruining their date like this, but they are the only people you can trust who know everything about your struggles with your ex.

Hani speaks quickly but gently on the phone, she clearly tries to keep calm while she tells you to go to the bar that you often visit after work, located just a few minutes away from the shop. She reassures you, telling you that they would be there as soon as possible. 

“Don't hang up until you get there, okay?” Hani adds, she can probably sense how shaken you are by what just happened and leaving you alone, even if it's over the phone, is out of question.

“I'm almost there,” you reply weakly through your sobs as you keep walking. You dry your face and try to normalize your breathing when you reach the small street where the bar is located. It's a quiet little place that holds countless memories for you and Hani, it was there that you and her celebrated the purchase of your tattoo shop a few years ago and it's where you return whenever you feel the need to unplug for a moment, while remaining in an familiar environment that makes you feel at ease. 

You walk through the entrance still holding your phone to your ear. The warmth hits your limbs pleasantly while lounge music and the smell of beer begin to envelop you like a blanket. 

On the other end of the phone you hear a loud windy noise and you deduce that Hani has already gotten on the motorcycle with Tae and that they are therefore about to arrive.

You feel a little calmer.

You end the call, knowing that Hani can't hear you and instead you opt for a text, informing her you'll wait for them at your usual spot. 

When you scan the place, you're glad it's only a tuesday as there are only a few people. You reach the slightly more secluded area of the place and you sit at your favorite table. The place is filled with fairy lights hanging above your head, their light hitting the brickstone of the walls and the wooden furniture just right, giving a cozy vibe that you always liked.

You then take off your jacket and your bag before sitting down, glad to have some dividers shielding you as you feel the aftermath of the adrenaline rush coming to you, all your strength drains away. Your shoulders ache from the tension and because of Ray's grip on them, your feet throb from the wild run and your heart continues to beat like a concert is taking place inside your ribs. You lean on the table with your elbows as you bring your hands to your head to massage your temples.

How could you ever imagine to find yourself in a similar situation?

You naively refused to believe that Ray was capable of hurting you in any way. He was too sweet and helpful with you at the beginning to think he was evil, your shared passion for arts was the core of your relationship and you also learned something new about the art of tattooing thanks to him. You were grateful for all the help he gave you in the shop. Ray is also objectively hot and the physical attraction and sexual chemistry were very strong between you.

Everything was pretty perfect.

Too much indeed, to the point that thinking about it now you wonder how you didn't notice how much the whole thing was stinking a mile away. You couldn't imagine that behind his perfect appearance and behavior, there was such an obsessed manipulator. You truly believed that he loved you like you loved him.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands. Whatever he has done now, you're sick to ask help from the cops, they did nothing useful when you needed them in the past.

"We can't handcuff a guy without clear evidence that he's acting in bad faith, he's a heartbroken young man trying to win his girlfriend back!" 

These were the words they said only two months ago, when you tried to report his constant messages and stalking episodes. Nobody did anything. They dwelt mostly on the threats he sent, on the fact that he said he was going to hurt himself if you didn't answer or consider getting back together with him and they also didn't think his repeated visits were something to worry about, since he used to do that when you were still together, in their opinion.

They even had the courage to tell you that you guys are young, that people are made to make mistakes and learn from them and all that bullshit people say when they need  to give air to their mouths. 

They made him seem like the victim here and you are so sick to deal with this bullshit, you'd rather lock yourself home and never get out than asking their useless help once again. 

You don't feel safe anyway, neither without nor with them.

You've resigned to the idea that you can't count on them and that you must do something yourself, but what can you do against a much taller and stronger guy?

You shiver at the thought but then your attention is drawn by a soft voice.

“Hey,” when you lift your head, your gaze softens as it meets your best friend's face. She promptly sits next to you without even taking off her motorcycle jacket and gloves and she pulls you into her arms.

"I swear if I see him around I'll gouge out his eyes and make earrings out of them." 

Hani states as she continues to soothe you in her embrace. A little smile creeps on your face, mostly because you know that she would be perfectly capable of doing what she just said. 

She is scary sometimes, but you love her nonetheless. 

You feel an extra hand caressing your shoulder "That's a creepy way to do some recycling but I approve" Taehyung adds in a lighter tone, when you move to look at him you notice he is looking down at you with a sad smile on his face.

Since Tae started dating Hani, he has become a dear friend to you, you love the natural way he takes care of her, and you appreciate the several times he came to your rescue, having a fight with Ray to defend you. He is a good friend. You smile at him but the smile doesn't reach your puffy reddened eyes. 

It's nice to know that your friends are always there for you, you feel so helpless though, so fragile right now. 

Tae orders the usual for the three of you and some snacks from a passing waiter, and then he joins you and Hani at the table, both of them ready to listen to you.

“Thank you guys for coming- I'm sorry I ruined your date.” you feel guilty and your voice is still trembling a little bit. 

“Don't even joke about it, Y/N.” Tae's tone is almost scolding as he fixes their motorcycle jackets next to him. 

“You know that Tae and I see each other almost every day," Hani says "You don't have to worry about that.” 

“It's just that I- I never felt so weak before” you admit as your eyes begin to shine again, unshed tears gathering on the rim of your lower eyelid, threatening to fall at any moment. 

“I tried to push him away when he kissed me.” the memory of his lips on yours makes you shudder, so much so that you can't believe that there was a time instead when you craved those lips all over your body. 

"I was barely able to push him off of me." Hani and Tae keep listening, anger readable on their faces as you recount what happened. You manage to speak on the verge of crying, your eyes glimmer but this time you find the strength to keep your tears at bay. You feel anger taking over your fear right now, that's probably why you refuse to cry over your disgusting ex and his demeanor yet again.

Hani interjects, stating that she'll do all the closing at the shop with you from now on, adding that she's starting to consider buying you some pepper spray, so you can empty it on his face if he shows up again.

The waiter returns with your orders and some water, telling you to call him back if you need anything else. He seems to have noticed your mood and doesn't want to interfere too much while remaining at your service anyway. You thank him with a warm smile before he goes back to doing his job elsewhere.

“Pepper spray is a good idea and you should buy it if it makes you feel a little safer," Tae begins "but I have another idea.” he adds before sipping his drink.

“I have a friend who races with me who also owns a gym, he even teaches kids how to throw good punches and stuff.”

You had almost completely forgotten that Tae participates in a regional motorcycle racing championship every year, Hani did nothing but talk about it at the beginning of their relationship. 

Hani nods vigorously after taking a sip of her own drink, agreeing with her boyfriend. 

"It wouldn't be a bad idea actually!" she says “Punching the shit out of that dick head would be even more satisfying!”

Tae fishes his wallet out of his jacket pocket and then rummages through its folds. When he finds what he was looking for, he places a business card on the table and pushes it towards you. 

"Jungkook took care of the gym full time before also dedicating himself to racing" he explains "Now there is a guy who helps him with the management, but he prefers to take care of the main courses himself"

You collect the business card while pondering what to do. Taking some boxing lessons might help you boost your confidence, your strength and it might be a good distraction as well.

"It's not that far from the shop" you recognize the name of the gym having passed in front of it a few times while you wanted to buy breakfast in a nearby coffee shop before your shift at work. You could use the opportunity to learn something new that you could also use to your advantage if needed.

You listen while Tae tries to explain what he knows about the gym, telling you that his friend Jungkook mainly handles the children's class in the early afternoon and the adult's class that starts at 7pm. That wouldn't be bad for you, since your closing time is around 6 pm, cleaning up and preparing the shop for the next day won't take much time.

“If you decide to try, tell him I sent you,” Tae continues “I can already tell you tho- Jungkook loves to joke, sometimes a little too much, but he's a good guy and knows how to be serious when necessary” 

You slightly nod, looking back at the piece of paper in your hands. 

You can try, and if you don't like it you can always leave. 

You can grab an uber or whatever to reach the place and to go back home. It should be fine if you book it a little earlier, so you don't have to wait alone outside.

"Okay," you suddenly say "I think I'll give it a try." 

Hani and Tae both smile, visibly content with your choice.

"Do you want me to walk you there?" Hani asks "It'll be a 30ish minute walk" You accept Hani's proposal without thinking too much.

"How about thursday?" you add "We can go together and then I'll get organized with uber and stuff"

Hani agrees, then she drifts her attention to Tae, who starts to discuss with her the time and place he will be coming to pick her up after she drops you at the gym.

The evening continues normally, you regain your tranquility bit by bit, even tho there is always a pinch of sadness and anger bothering you in the back of your mind. Sharing some quiet moments with your friends managed to cheer you up enough to genuinely laugh at the silly bickering between the two lovebirds. 

You can't help but wonder if you'll be able to get over this mess anytime soon.

When it's time to go home, Hani decides that she will be spending the night with you at the apartment you once shared for more than a year, before she started to crash often at Tae's.

Ray could always decide to make the situation worse by showing up at your door, you think. If he decides to do so, Hani could create those famous eyeballs-earrings much sooner, she said. The joke makes you all chuckle, you are happy to have them by your side, gosh- you truly are grateful.

Spending time with them definitely improved your mood and you feel like you can overcome this bad period of your life, with time and patience. 

You thank Tae who waited for your uber to arrive before putting on his helmet and get on his motorcycle.

You feel incredibly tired but hopeful, this new experience could really help you on multiple fronts.

September 14th, Thursday

When you wake up, you feel like you've slept for barely 2 hours, but it's been like this since the whole stalking shit started, so. You lack your usual enthusiasm, that unbridled desire to create works of art on other people's skin, it's slowly vanishing away and that worries you. 

You do your best to react though. The day goes by better than yesterday, your appointments at the shop flow smoothly one after the other and some potential customers have come to ask for some info on the costs of piercings, something Hani mainly manages. 

You keep your mood up to meet your customers' requests, to smile and make them feel comfortable.

You are finishing the last touches on the skin of your last client of the day when, looking up at the clock hanging on the wall, you realize that soon it will be time to close, you shudder a little even if you know that Hani will close the shop with you this time, it's been only two days after all, the events are still too fresh. You let the buzzing sound of the pen distract you as you fill the last bit of skin with ink.

In no time, the shop is empty and silent again, except for Hani who has the pleasant habit of humming as she tidies up her side of the shop. You finish cleaning your station while your mind wanders. You think that it was so natural and easier to enjoy the peace of this place before. 

This has always been a safe place for you, your very home. Of course, the concept of home is usually a place where you don't do your job, where you sleep, eat and rest. You pay the rent for the apartment, but this is still where you spend most of your time, this is that place that you know you will never leave, that you feel it's yours, that when you walk through the door makes you feel in your element.

It shouldn't be that difficult now, it's still the same shop, but the need to hide your appointments to avoid arguments with your ex in the past and the fear you began to feel as time passed, have tarnished what this place means to you. Your face drops in sadness at the thought. You want to go back to loving this place like you've always done at all costs and find some serenity again. Tattooing has always been your passion, something that sadly distanced you from your parents, who always wished you would pursue a different career. You won't let Ray ruin what you accomplished with sacrifices.

The shop shines when you're done, you pick up the bag previously prepared for the gym and you and Hani close the shop together. 

You hope these lessons can help you release some stress.

Hani walks by your side, talking about everything and nothing, sharing a little laugh when you tell her that you can't wait to punch a sandbag imagining Ray's face. 

The evening is pleasantly chilly and you're almost at the gym when you ask Hani if she wants you to wait with her for Tae to arrive.

“Don't worry I'll meet him at the corner,” she reply "besides, the class has already started, you should head inside."

You look at your phone, realizing it's way past 7:30pm already and you begin to feel a little anxious. Hani then tells you to call her or Tae if you need anything, even if they're going to spend the evening at the movies, she makes sure that you know you can always rely on them.

You nod, smiling "Thanks for being there Hani, I don't know how I'd have reacted to all of this alone" You truly don't know. Hani waves her hand "Don't even joke abaut it" she replies, mirroring your smile. 

"You even talk like Tae now!"

She rolls her eyes but she knows you are just teasing her.

“I want to know everything about your first lesson tomorrow!” she emphatically throws a few empty and totally random punches. You giggle at the scene shaking your head “Sure sure- I’ll show you what I learn.” 

“As long as you don't punch me, I'm fine with it.” You push her playfully and then you say goodbye as she walks away and you enter the gym.

It seems like a recently renovated place. You expected the usual smell of sweat and plastic typical of the gyms, but you are actually surprised to catch a fresh hint of flowers in the air. You notice a small reception near the entrance door, a well decorated counter with all sorts of flyers on top and red and blue led lights that illuminate the gym logo in the front, but there is no one behind the counter to welcome you. 

You take a few steps through an arch that leads to what is apparently the main area of the gym. 

The floor is mostly covered with a rubber tatami and you see some hanging plants and flower pots by the walls, which explains the very subtle smell in the air. Different tools and dumbbells are scattered around while several people are engaged in exercises of various kinds in front of some floor to ceiling mirrors.

You scan the place, pleased by the vibe it radiates. It surely is strange to find so many flowers and plants in a place like this, but it gives an original touch to it. Your gaze lands on a bunch of guys wearing boxing gloves while observing the explanation of an exercise. The one that's explaining, according to Tae's description, should be his friend Jungkook, who is standing in front of them while performing the exercise in question as an example.

Wow. Those are some wide shoulders right there. 

You watch him intently as the dark haired guy moves. Something about his movements is attractive and you guess it's just him when he turns around and you notice the lip ring that Tae had told you about and the right arm completely full of colorful tattoos that you are already dying to curiously inspect. Yup, he's hot.

You watch him from the entrance as he performs the exercise with ease, his muscles flex and you can glimpse at them while his clothes deliciously wrap around his body. Tae could have warned you, it's gonna be hard to concentrate with this guy.

Jungkook almost seems to sense your gaze on him when, once his explanation is over, he turns towards the entrance you are standing at and your eyes meet for a moment. You tense up cursing at yourself, gawking at a complete stranger at the gym is creepy, But then you notice he's smiling while he approaches you and the group of guys he left is now performing the exercise.

"Can I help you?" 

Of course, even his voice had to be hot. Fuck. You shift on your spot, clutching the bag you're carrying on your shoulder as you hope the warmth you're feeling on your face doesn't color your cheeks.

"You must be Jungkook," you reply, feeling a little awkward. Why even the sound of your own voice sounds stupid to you right now, damn.

"In the flesh." he responds confidently, pushing his hair back with his fingers.

Ok, now it's fucking clear as day that this guy knows very well that he is good looking and that he has an effect, which makes you think that he must be used to the women eating him up with their eyes.

"And you are?" he asks with curiosity laced in his voice. 

"Uh sorry, I'm Y/N" you compose your thoughts trying to ignore the increasing awkwardness you feel explaining that "Taehyung told me about your class and I would like to give it a try." 

"Kim Taehyung? Are you two friends?" He seems surprised as his eyebrows raise.

“Yeah, his girlfriend is my best friend.” 

Jungkook chuckles by himself, amused by something you ignore. 

"You're the tattoo artist, aren't you?" he asks, smiling as if he figured a puzzle or something like that.

“Did he say I was coming?”

“Not exactly,” Jungkook replies “but I met your best friend at Tae's a few times and I heard her say your name while speaking to Tae.” He seems pleased by the coincidence. 

The fact that he remembers this small thing doesn't surprise you that much, but you start to feel anxious wondering if he happened to hear something related to your situation with Ray, you'd rather avoid talking about it. It's already difficult to deal with it with your friends, but most of all, you don't need compassion.

Jungkook observes you momentarily, and almost as if he sensed the drift of your thoughts, he beckons you to follow him towards a freer area of the gym. You follow him till you reach a set of gloves neatly arranged in one corner. 

“Can I see your hands?” he asks casually.

"Sure." You leave the bag you're carrying on your shoulder on the ground, moving it to the side so it's not in the way, then you bring your hands forward with your palms facing up to let him observe them. Jungkook gently gathers your hands, and his touch is so delicate you barely feel it. He observes carefully, humming while he tries to figure out which pair of boxing gloves would fit you well.

It's not even a proper touch, it almost feels like the slight tickle that a feather would give and it's... pleasant. You're not completely indifferent as his fingers continue to brush the back of your hands, the sensation making you feel a little shy even though he is just looking at your hands and nothing more.

"Try these" His fingers leave you to take and offer you a particular pair of boxing gloves that he thinks might fit you. You inspect them briefly, wincing a little at the sweaty feel that envelops your hands as you put them on. 

You feel your hands swimming inside, indicating that they are too big for you. You look at Jungkook asking “Do you have a slightly smaller pair?” Jungkook seems to have already considered the possibility that these were too big. He is giggling as he hands you another pair of seemingly smaller and more colorful boxing gloves and you see him try to bite back the smile that's on his pink lips. You can't help but think that the way he scrunches up his nose is actually cute.

You switch up the gloves with the colorful one, immediately understanding why he was chuckling like that. “I know, it's a big problem for me,” you admit, chuckling at your own hands, “I can't find latex gloves that fit perfectly 'cause of this” He laughs with you, amused by the smile that formed on your face when you noticed that the gloves he gave you are for children, specifically a blue and red spiderman themed pair. 

"Using the words 'big problem" just made the whole thing funnier!"

"Well, I'll throw spider punches today." you joke.

Jungkook let's out a small laugh as he is looking at you with something in his eyes, you're probably the first grown up who needs kid's gloves and you catch him subtly checking you out.

This sense of lightness, simple yet helpful for your tired mind, is doing some good to you, you can feel it as you notice that you're exchanging genuine smiles and gazes since you started talking.

You follow him, avoiding to step on the tatami with your shoes as you approach the corner with different punch bags. He stands next to you in front of one of the standing punch bags available.

“Alright- so, there's no need to throw hard punches, for now just show me how you throw them.”

"But I don't know how!" you admit.

"Exactly, I want to see your natural movements, to understand what we'll have to work on'' Jungkook replies as he crosses his arms on his chest. The motion captures your eyes for a moment too long. That sleeve tattoo looks perfectly done and you barely refrained to take a closer look, the delicious way his tatted muscles are popping out of his white t-shirt is too distracting.

"Now show me how those little hands would hit the bag" his tone has slightly changed and he is smirking at you. He's teasing purposely and you think you saw him winking at you, or maybe you just imagined it. You roll your eyes as an attempt to save yourself from the embarrassment of being caught gawking at him like that. 

You ignore the persistent warmth on your cheeks and try to remember the movements you saw earlier, as he explained to those guys. They seemed to get into position before they did anything else, so you try to imitate the movements you remember as best as you can.

You bring your left arm across your chest as your right arm punches the punch bag in front of you with ease. Jungkook's face is fully concentrated, he hums as he nods a couple of times, his gaze lost as he ponders on the movements he just saw. 

“Okay, first of all- your left arm.” Jungkook moves, putting himself between you and the punch bag. 

"Get back in position again, the one before you throw the punch" 

You promptly do what he asked, repeating the previous movements once again. You stop when your arms are folded like before and you're ready to throw the punch. Jungkook's hands move as he says "Relax your shoulders." and then they gently rest on you.

This time his touch is not a simple featherlike brush, you feel the weight of his hands resting delicately on your skin and you stiffen at the contact. He said you should relax, but his hands on you caused the opposite reaction.

Ray and his hands come to your mind, the feeling of him holding you against the glass door is fogging your thoughts again, even though Jungkook's touch is soft and gentle on you.

You wince a little, taking a step back instinctively. Jungkook immediately withdraws his hands, sensing your discomfort. 

"S-sorry, I was trying to correct your posture, I didn't mean to-"

“No- it's fine" you interrupt him, suppressing the negative emotions that started to poison your guts.

You really want to focus and learn and until now, you had no idea your ex's behavior has affected you up to this point. 

Jungkook watches you dubiously, you can't decipher the expression adorning his beautiful face right now, he seems worried, thoughtful, maybe he's wondering what kind of an idiot would want to learn how to throw punches and then reacts like this at the slightest physical contact. 

The idea of having to give up because of this sensation, pisses you off. You gulp the lump on your throat while you close your eyes briefly, then you resume the position, being careful to relax your shoulders this time.

"Better?" you ask in a calm voice. Jungkook nods with a faint smile on his face. Even if he probably noticed there's something wrong, you're glad he's not asking questions. 

"What else wasn't right?" 

Jungkook notices your determination to continue and returns to your side again, opting for a demonstrative explanation this time.

He moves his body naturally and you observe him carefully. His movements are so precise and satisfying to watch and the desire to learn, to achieve more or less this naturalness, gives you the right push to continue. Most of all, now that you know that Ray left this horrible sensation on your skin, you're determined to get rid of it. 

Jungkook explains the importance of taking a correct position, to be able to hurt and not get hurt. A faint smile returns to your face at his way of explaining this kind of thing with passion and care. 

You imitate his movements by moving your left foot forward, your left arm at your chest like before but slightly higher, until your glove touches the side of your chin. When you feel that you have planted your foot well on the ground, with a slight movement of your shoulders, you accompany your right fist towards the bag, also rotating your pelvis slightly.

And just like that, you land a perfect punch on the punch bag.

Jungkook cheers softly so as not to disturb the others but his satisfaction is evident. You smile to see him so taken for so little, but you have to admit that you feel pumped, and yes- it was only one perfectly landed punch.

“That's a great start!” he adds enthusiastically. 

"So even small hands can throw some good punches huh!" You laugh softly and Jungkook joins you, genuinely amused.

"I'm sure those little punches will be able to do a lot of harm soon!" he declares "If you wanna join the gym, of course." 

This is what you needed to hear, it gives you courage, you can't wait to feel totally comfortable with your abilities, you're ready to commit to this and Jungkook saw it, when you eagerly said "Of course I want!"

That -little episode- long forgotten when you two started to talk comfortably that evening. Jungkook took some time to explain how and when he gives his lessons and to show you around the gym as well as the female's locker room, making sure you knew you could use everything you wanted once you felt comfortable enough to train alone.

From that day, you started going to the gym almost regularly. To be honest, as time passed, you couldn't wait to get back on that tatami to train after work, it soon became a healthy habit.

And, on the other side, you could see Jungkook.

You like having him around, you and him started bantering all the time almost instantly. You got used to his presence and his ways of teasing pretty fast and he's been a breath of fresh air for you. You've been attracted to him since day one, you're not gonna lie, but he soon became some kind of a friend. 

Yeah, that kind of friend you'd gladly rip their clothes off, but whatever.

The lethal mix of wide shoulders, buff body, lip ring, tatted arm and that sweet face of his when he smiles and scrunch up his cute nose… 

Yup, you're kinda crushing on him and training with him almost everyday it's quite challenging.

You two share a nice friendship, but it's clear that something else is hidden underneath. The constant glances and flirty jokes at the gym are proof of that and from time to time you also catch him pretending not to be looking at your butt. 

You are more at ease now and that's also thanks to him and his lessons.

Everything seems to be falling back to place, if not an even better one. 

Ray has been silent since that night outside the shop. No messages, no calls, no unexpected visits, no nothing. The fear to meet him again is still persistent and sometimes the horrible things he did to you still haunt your mind, but you're now able to manage to get rid of it in no time. You're more confident, you sleep better and you're learning a bunch of new stuff that keeps your mind busy.

You feel like you're able to breathe again, like you got your life back in your hands. 

Hani walked with you to the gym a few more times after the first time, but you soon started to book an uber to go and get back. It wasn't difficult to get into a rhythm: you book it through your phone a little earlier, so you don't have to wait outside and that's it, like this you're able to close the shop and get into the car immediately and when you have to go back home, you take a shower at the gym, say your goodbyes and head outside, where your uber is already waiting for you. Simple and effective.

Just to be extra sure, you leave your lessons a little earlier, like at 9pm instead of 10pm. Better safe than sorry.

Jungkook never asked the reason why you always leave early, not explicitly at least. Sometimes he's teased you by asking if you quit training early to fight crime with your cute hands, a recurring joke you always involuntarily smile at. Tae had warned you after all, Jungkook jokes a lot and in all this time spent at the gym, training with him, you had the opportunity to see for yourself.

There's something though that seems to creep behind his eyes every now and then and you can't quite put your finger on what. Sometimes he seems extremely thoughtful or even sad, even a few moments after he just cracked a joke. 

You never had the courage to ask, just like he never asked why you reacted like that the first time he touched you. You don't want to ask him what's bothering him and apparently he doesn't want to ask you either. Jungkook began to invade your thoughts just like that, with ease, and this hidden mystery behind his beautiful brown eyes keeps drawing you to him more and more.

| [Next Chapter] ▶

[conditioned-to-obey]

Do you have advice when it comes to dating and finding your ideal partner (that including sex life as well)?

The older I get the harder it feels like to find someone that gets you on all levels AND also aligns with your sexual desires.. or is that also a compromise thing: you doing stuff to please your partner and vice versa, even if that particular thing isn’t much of a turn on for you usually?

For all intents and purposes, when I found most of my pets I wasn't looking for anyone. I would have previously said that a partner who understands me on all levels and aligns with my sexual desires completely wouldnt have been realistic. However I've been proven wrong of that quite a few times by my pets.

It is completely possible to find someone who understands you wholly and also aligns with you sexually. Some perhaps more than others. There is some compromise, but that just depends on how much you value having both or one or the other. However, I would suggest not settling. Sexual chemistry and sex (for those who have it and want it) is a very important part of a relationship. Do not decide to neglect it just because someone is exemplary in other aspects. They can be a friend for life, instead of a short fling. Not everyone is going to align perfectly, even if we find we care about them very much.

I would say there's nothing wrong with doing something to please a partner even if you don't particularly enjoy something. However I have found that doing so can take a toll and feel incredibly disheartening and ingeniune. People want to enjoy things with their partners. Engaging in activity just to find after it was a one sided expirence can be jarring and create a rift. A sense of distrust or unease. You want a partner to be open and honest with you about their feelings and that doesn't feel in line with that. Don't settle, there are plenty of other people who are just as into that one thing as you are. It can also be felt viscerally when a partner is doing something they don't particularly enjoy but are doing anyway. Ever complained about a sore spot and asked for a massage only to receive a massage very lackluster effort to your polite request? It feels just like that. Mechanical and empty and the other person seemingly always gets restless or tired rather quicker than it can even start.

Logically, those who understand you completely and make an effort to understand you better are most likely going to be the people who you'll find you're most compatible with. Just something to think about.

In my case I found several people whom I am extremely compatible with by just being open and honest about needs, if they are able to and willing to meet those needs. And vice versa. Those who want to show up will. Notice if their actions match with their words. Learn to recognize love bombing and shelving.

Have low risk, but uncomfortable conversations, that'll weed some out almost instantly.

[queerfandomtrifecta]

OFMD 2 and the opposite Blackbonnet parallels in ocean emotional symbolism.

Okay so I know I’m firmly on the OFMD critical side because of s2 but here’s a little bit of meta that isn’t just straight narrative criticism. I missed being able to find the depth in the show and (say what you will bout Ed and Stede’s (non-existent) arcs this season (and believe me I’ve got a LOT to say there)) Be that as it may, this is a Stede and Ed/Blackbonnet meta post.

Also lovelies, please don’t derail the reblogs/comments into what you think is wrong about my first paragraph above here or just generally being rude. It’s not about that, and either way please just make your own post about your disagreements, plz and thanks ♥️

But recently I saw another piece of meta discussing Stede’s line as he’s making Low walk the plank.

Low: “You’re gonna toss me into the sea?”

Stede: “Works for spiders. Works for men.”

And it really got me thinking.

I thought that line was a little bit… oddly specific with the spider thing? Until it clicked that in s2e4, Ed is talking to Stede Bunnet/Wolf in the forest about how he has a tattoo of a spider on his hand because he had a phobia of spiders.

So yeah, it’s sweet that Stede seems to have been implied that Stede is throwing the scary spiders overboard for Ed (or at least has firmly instructed the crew to do so always). Clearly Ned Low (aside from just being horrible all around to the crew) has really been extra terrible on a deeply personal level to Ed. So Stede decides he’s is gonna throw him off the ship. That seems sweet (I guess, but with the massive caveat of I SWEAR I thought they would go a different direction with Stede’s first kill that Ed begged him not to do, but apparently that was supposed to be read as a positive improvement on Stede’s character?? Like yeah Ned Low was shitty af but like I thought they were going somewhere very different with the resolution but… anyway. I digress… that’s a separate post.)

Anyway, getting back to the point. At this point, it seems like the things Ed doesn’t like/scare him/make him viscerally uncomfortable have to get off the ship. Immediately. Spiders. Ned Low. The guy on the fancy ship in s1 who he instructs fang to lash to something heavy and throw him overboard (after skinning him).

But like, when Ed was having the first Kraken breakdown, the first thing that he let go in the breeze to be blown away and inevitably he lose to the ocean was his red silken pocket square. Immediately after that was Lucius, the first man he’d encountered since he’d clearly been hurt by Izzy and decided to become the Kraken. Lucius is calling him Ed and chatting chipperly and casually after Ed’s had his breakdown from first Stede leaving then again from what Izzy said, and Lucius has a history of putting Ed in his place, so between that and wrong place/wrong time, to the ocean Lucius went. The next was all of Stede’s things personal things. Books, (presumably) clothes, who knows what else. After that, almost Stede’s entire crew were taken off the ship and marooned in the middle of the ocean (save Jim and Frenchie).

S2 Kraken era starts, and the crew are told to throw their hard earned treasure into the sea. Throw it overboard, too much plunder, we have to lighten the load to make it to the next target. Izzy conveys to Ed the answer is no, the rest of that scene happens, and then Ed says “throw this shit overboard and get suited up.” Presumably they do before/while cleaning up Izzy’s blood. Next episode we see Ed playing with the Stede/Ed wedding toppers that night, breaking down into tears, and then finally going to the broken window and throwing the toppers one by one into the sea. After Izzy’s leg is amputated and he’s discovered alive, presumably Izzy’s leg is given a burial at sea (it’s unclear but I’m assuming it can’t stay aboard the ship and either way Ed clearly can’t even bear to look at it when he tells him “take the fuckin’ leg.”)

After Ed presumes Izzy killed himself, Ed goes on deck and talks to Frenchie, who is clearly terrified and just offers to throw himself overboard into the sea to make things easier. Ed says no, go live, brother. All the meanwhile he’s fully suicidal and planning to sink the very last thing of Stede’s, The Revenge, it’s crew (some of which began as Stede’s) and himself (notably finally wearing Stede’s cravat once again for the first point all season) into the ocean, to be lost to the depths forever with everything else Ed can’t handle for one reason or another.

The morning after Calypso’s birthday, Ed throws his leathers into the ocean. He’s done with that life, wants no more pirating, wants to be a regular guy, so into the ocean his Blackbeard “costume” goes.

Ed is spending so much time letting or trying to let the ocean swallow up everything that’s too hard for him. To let it all sink to the depths or at least be off the boat and presumably dead ASAP.

But like, you know what Stede spent all that time throwing into the ocean? Beautifully written love letters in bottles to the man he loves. Bottles that floated away, not sank, and he hopped, impossibly, the ocean might just carry them to Ed in some romantic adventure hero, love-story-for-the-ages type way.

Ed seems to feel doomed to a life of piracy he wants out of from the moment we meet in in s1, so it only makes sense that the ocean would feel like the inevitable destruction of everything for him.

Stede chooses the ocean and says how much he misses it multiple times. Of course it would seem like hope to him.

The fact that those two were reunited while I was drowning underwater and Stede was a sea creature, a mermaid, coming down to meet him where he was in his struggle in that scene and they stay there, met in the middle in the depths of the ocean which clearly means SO much to both of them in different ways as the scene ends. Idk. Something about that.

Anyway. This felt like maybe something but idk at this point. I have my feelings about s2 but I legitimately miss being able to analyze stuff and write meta! So. Here. Have this Blackbonnet ocean parallels/possible metaphors/symbology train of though.

[chaifootsteps]

Hard agree on The Nun. In general, religious horror usually doesn’t do anything for me as my upbringing was not a religious one, so I don’t find it as scary as other subgenres of horror, but The Nun is just plain boring to me. It’s the most formulaic and cheap horror series I’ve ever had the displeasure to be exposed to. I would have given it a pass as just being another forgettable horror movie if they had never made more than one, but because it apparently has to be a franchise now, I heavily dislike seeing it.

Oh, and if I remember correctly, you were once recommended The Bay (2012) as a good found-footage horror film that’s also free on YouTube. I also decided to take that anon’s advice and watch it. And let me just say, that is the most viscerally uncomfortable I have ever been while watching a film. I recommend taking more time to watch it than the actual runtime in case you need to get up and do something else for a while. I watched it twice, and it got even worse the second time around because at that point I already knew what was about to happen to everyone. 10/10, highly recommend it, you’ll have to tell us what you think if you do watch it.

Yeah, that's the kicker, that The Nun is an entire franchise now (and Crooked Man isn't but that's a me thing). Also, that they unashamedly ripped off the ending of Demon Knight, one of my all time favorite horror movies.

The Bay's definitely one that'll make your skin itch. I'd recommend what you suggested, watching it with breaks, and also looking up videos/pics of Cymothoa exigua before jumping in. It's a a gross, freaky little creature and if you can't stomach it in a fish, probably don't watch The Bay.

(Speaking of found-footage films, I think I've mentioned that I've been swooning over Willow Creek lately. Almost perfect, 9/10 spooky movie about things innawoods.)

[moxxnie]

✧ 🫀☂️ Niwakuni one-shot

Word count : 1906

Rating : E(veryone)

Tags & content warnings : trans!Kabukimono / Scaramouche 🏳️‍⚧️ ; fluff ; can be read as platonic. [Niwakuni | Niwa/Kabukimono ]

Thinking about Kabukimono, and the first time he went to a hot spring...

It was Katsuragi who proposed the idea to the rest of the workers that evening. It was a pleasure they seldom indulged in, due to lack of time, money - for various reasons, really - but finishing those orders had been more laborious than most of their typical workdays, so the team decided they deserved it.

Kabukimono was not in the habit of participating and often sided with the reluctant ones for the obvious reason that it was impossible to hide his puppet joints from the world in a public bath. He would be exposed, vulnerable - probably detached from his anchors and friends in this village, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. He found his footing, certainly, but he still saw furtive eyes ogling his expensive silk, perplexed murmurs when he instinctively held a tool upside down, and although no one had been hostile towards him... he struggled.

"Do you want to go?" his voice awakened the young man, who turned calmly towards him, hands folded against his body. "You can, you know. You work as hard as we do," he reassured him, taking off his sweat-drenched bandana with a grimace before approaching him.

When Niwa lifted his head from his anvil, he saw Kabukimono hesitate to follow the group. He watched them leave, without blinking, static like a wax statue, and the shadow of a smile came to rest on his face.

"They would see my articulated body and ask questions. I can't go with so many people around," Kabukimono smiled weakly at him before tightening the straps holding his sleeves and getting back to organizing his workbench for the next day. Niwa then had an idea.

However, he didn't have time to ask him a question, as Niwa had already gone to find Katsuragi - leaving him alone, waiting. Waiting for what? Should he stay in his place? Resume his task? Would Niwa return before nightfall? Kabukimono, in doubt, remained still, not without drawing the curious eyes of the few blacksmiths who were busy organizing their own space.

"Wait a minute." The youth stopped abruptly in his movement, effortlessly standing up with two full crates in his hands, and tilted his head to the side like a lost little animal.

"Are you sure no one else will come, Niwa?" Kabukimono still had that ancient way of speaking, a highly formal dialect he couldn't seem to lose even when interacting with workers whose language was much less obscure than his. He found it adorable - that the person he taught to read in his spare time could teach him words in the language he had always spoken.

"Don't worry, Katsuragi is taking care of it." Niwa had rushed over to Katsuragi to ask him to send everyone away at once and join them when it was done, so that they would be the only three people in the water.

"I'm here! Finally, I've been waiting for half an hour to get in there," with a loud noise, the sliding door was closed and he began to remove his yukata, "the owner won't let anyone in on this side while we're here, no worries!" he added, turning to Kabukimono with a thumbs up.

The youth didn't hesitate and flattened himself against the floor in reverence, bowing so low that he almost hit his head on the tatami mats. Katsuragi near jumped, half-naked, and bowed in return, one hand holding his clothing, the other palm outstretched to his friend, and they lost themselves for a few seconds in an exchange that made Niwa laugh against the back of his hand, consisting only of "Thank you so much!" and "Hey, get up! It's nothing!"

When the Kabukimono finally started to remove his yukata, Niwa and Katsuragi were already lounging against two rocks, discussing something that the Kabukimono couldn't discern, too preoccupied with his own worries. Was this what they called "anxiety"? He didn't like the visceral fear that wrapped around his neck and hesitated to call Niwa - he didn't do it, ashamed to ask for help when they had already made so much effort for him.

Once naked, the youth grabbed a white towel and headed towards the bath as well, half of his body draped in cotton to hide the marks of his artifice. If he had been human, his steps would have been trembling, he was sure of it. But once again, if he had been human, he wouldn't be reduced to this. As they heard him approaching, Katsuragi and Niwa turned to him and beckoned him to come closer with a smile.

Finally, he realized that he had nothing to fear, that they were, after all, the man who had found him gathering dust in an abandoned estate, and the one who had immediately taken him under his wing and kept his secret. Returning their smiles, he finally removed the towel and joined them, close to Niwa without encroaching on his space.

He completely missed their pair of wide-eyed gazes and the crimson veil that spread from the top of their cheekbones to their collarbones at the sight of his naked body. Nothing obscene - they would never forgive themselves.

Firstly, because by all the Archons, if they had not known that Kabukimono had been crafted by the very hand of a God, they could have guessed it. As he emerged from the mist, it was clear to see that he was no ordinary mortal. His long amethyst-hued hair flowed like moonbeams, cascading down to his waist in a shimmering almost cloud-like crown. His crystalline skin dotted with freckles and beauty marks of all kinds mirrored the prettiest starlight, a soft glow emanating from within. His hands were delicate and graceful, with slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails despite the hard work he had been engaging in for weeks. Every inch of him seemed to have been sculpted from the very fabric of the universe, a flawless creation of otherworldly beauty. He was an ethereal being, a vision of perfection that could only exist in dreams and fables – it felt as if his presence alone could reignite the flame any fallen artist longed for.

Secondly, because at the sight of his feminine silhouette, they were mortified at the thought of completely mistaking Kabukimono's gender when addressing him. Had they forced him to live as a man against his will? Had he been too shy to tell them ?

Kabukimono also noticed, as he sat in the water up to his waist, that his anatomy differed from that of his two friends. Where their chest areas were relatively flat, his was curvier and two, very discreet, but undeniable breasts shaped his outline. He thought nothing of it; Kabukimono simply believed they were intrigued by the pattern where his sternum should be, and he placed a hand on this spot, his brows furrowed.

"This is where my heart should have been placed." He remembered, as a spontaneous reminiscence. "It's a cavity. Don't be surprised, it's not painful." He traced his nails along the markings that ran up his alabaster shoulders, and squeezed his skin between his fingers until his knuckles trembled.

"That's a sick design..." Katsuragi blurted out, discerning the arabesques that probably ran up to his spine, imagining what portrait could be drawn on his neck. Kabukimono looked up, surprised. "Ha! I wasn't eyeing you, I promise! But, really, you don't have to be ashamed of it. It looks like the traditional stuff they do at Watatsumi..." he searched for his word for a few seconds before Niwa cleared his throat.

"It's true, they look like tattoos. They're...very beautiful, Kabuki." He affirmed more confidently. To that, the youth smiled and withdrew his hand, sinking deeper into the hot spring.

They realized then that they hadn't forced him into anything - Kabukimono was exactly who he wanted to be, or at least acted with the purpose of becoming so. Now that they thought about it, Kabukimono had shown great confusion at first when Nagamasa inquired about his gender to fill in his paperwork. The youth had turned to Katsuragi, asking what he was, and when Katsuragi replied, confused, that he was a man, Kabukimono looked at Nagamasa and simply answered “then so am I”. Applying human notions of gender to him was pointless.

"I'm glad you like them." He hid half of his face in the water, as if he wanted to hide his blushing face even though he couldn't blush, and resumed his initial position, a little closer to Niwa. "This body is mine, but it doesn't belong to me. Thank you for helping me accept it."

It was Katsuragi who broke the silence after a few minutes.

"Hey, Kabu-" it seemed to him that his nickname shortened with every new sentence, "would you be willing to - umm." He seemed to hesitate, so Kabukimono leaned closer to him, his head supported by his knees and hands, all ears "...serve as a model for a blade? I mean! I like to add personal touches to the weapons I make. You can think about it, huh! But... I think it would look good..." Niwa had never seen Katsuragi so flustered in his life. Well, except when he courted his wife. Which made him chuckle stupidly to himself as he spotted a little lizard on the rock next to him.

Kabukimono eyed him with his large bright eyes that could be mistaken for glass eyes because of how much they shone. A hesitation passed through his gaze at the thought of what he had always pushed away being etched forever into something as respected as a blade - nothing that belonged to him deserved any special treatment, let alone to be a part of an almost divine practice. After all, he had been abandoned for not being able to withstand divinity. How was this any different?

"I will give it serious thought." he solemnly swore, bowing his head down to the water level, soaking his bangs and long lashes without hesitation. Katsuragi startled again, repeating for him to sit up, and thanked him for his consideration.

"Do you want me to tie your hair?" Niwa suddenly offered, gripping the edge of the bath more firmly, letting the lizard go. He hadn't thought before speaking - was it really serious for an island deputy, huh…

"Mine?" Kabukimono splashed him accidentally as he stood up, and pointed at himself, intrigued.

“Yes, yours. Come on, you must be having a hard time.” he signaled him to come closer, and Kabukimono stood up fully, moving towards Niwa to finally sit back against him, on his knees. Niwa let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Thank you, Niwa. I'll help you too, if you want," he smiled at him over his shoulder, his painted eyes widening at the sight of the other's crimson face. "Are you okay?" he asked, turning to him. He heard Katsuragi snicker, then immediately stop when Niwa gave him a dark look.

“Everything’s fine. Turn around.” he smiled, and started gathering his hair in his hand.

Kabukimono still had much to learn about humans and their interactions, but what he could affirm was that he deeply loved this moment, and if he could forever rest in Niwa’s hands and the warmth of the hot spring, at the foot of the coruscating flower beds of Tatarasuna, then perhaps he could find meaning in his immortality.

[raggaraddy]

Opportune

My Cruel Kidnapper: Chapter Seven

Yandere! Jungkook

Summary: You see the chance to escape. Freedom is right there. But should you take it?

Trigger warnings: Imprisonment, restraints, threats, violence, kidnapping, swearing, abuse. 18+ readers only.

A/n: If you are new to this story, please go to the cover page for the chapter list and the story disclaimer. 18+ readers only.

Enjoy.  💜💜💜

Previous Chapter

Your mind is at war. 

He shouldn't have been able to do that to you. You shouldn't have felt that kind of way- not with him. 

Laying in a whimpering, tear-soaked mess, you're in pain, filled with self-pity, and racked by guilt that you can not entirely understand. Feeling as if you are being consumed by a numb void until Jungkook comes out of the bathroom and once again, all your attention goes to him.

"Are you just going to lay in bed crying all day?" He scoffs accusedly.  Seeming frustrated, almost repulsed by your crying. 

I can't move, you ass! is what you scream at him- but only in your mind. You didn't go through all of that to derail your plans now. You need to do what you can to grit your teeth and bear it. Don't fight him. Be appeasing. Wait until an opportune moment, or until you are saved.

In place of any kind of truthful remark, you stay silent. Sighing in defeat as you sink your head deeper into the pillow. Your gaze fixated on the blank ceiling.

Coming into your eye line Jungkook jumps onto the bed, throwing his leg over your waist. While you restrain yourself enough at first, as his hand reaches up to your cheeks you can not keep yourself from bucking away. 

"You know, it's cute how you always flinch." He laughs, roughly grabbing the sides of your face to insist that you comply. 

The smug look he has fills your chest with a fit of white, hot anger. Eating you from the inside out. Does he think this is entertaining?! Is he having fun?! What if he were the one being treated like this? If he were the one who couldn't fight back? He would flinch. He would cry too! And then to mock you on top of that? He is irredeemable. You hate him so much.

His lingering touch slowly raises up, caressing along your arms, making too much-unwanted contact as he uncuffs you. When finally he climbs off your lap, you spring upright, quickly adjusting your shirt. Pulling it down as low as you can take it. Trying to ignore the cold, wet, sticky feeling that is pooled between your legs.

Sat there, consumed with a mix of visceral emotions as you rub your bruised wrists, the one you can feel the most is anxiety. You're obsessed with every move he's making, anticipating anything he might do. Every single thing he has done so far has been nightmare-ish. And you can't shake the fear that it is only going to keep getting worse.

Flinching again, you yelp softly in reaction to him throwing something at you. Harmlessly landing on the bed, though, is a pair of boy-cut shorts. 

"You want to wear them?" He points to the underwear.

It takes a second for your mind to race through what he said, what the possible negative ramifications might be, and what to say back. You're so traumatised that even a simple gesture has you second-guessing everything. You decide on nothing as a response and waste no time getting off his bed and putting on the additional clothing. They're too big, they sit like bicycle shorts on you. But for the first time in days, you feel somewhat protected. 

It feels strangely wonderful. You never would have expected how consequential underwear or pants were until you were in this very specific, very vulnerable situation.

He's standing in front of you dressed in grey sweat pants and a loose white tee. His hair is still wet from his shower, and it's even darker because of it. It's spiked up at strange angles from his hand running through it. He's watching you again with that zoned-out stare that he has. Making you shift uncomfortably. Looking in any other direction to avoid making eye contact.

"I just realized I haven't fed you yet." He gasps. "You must be starving." You can see his thoughts trail off and a smirk creeps it's way onto his face. "Well, I haven't fed you food anyway," he blurts out under his breath, his smirk turning to a full smile, verging on a laugh. 

What a pig. 

Holding his hand out he turns to the door, but steps further towards you, motioning for you to take his offer. "Com'on, I'll make you something to eat." 

Now that he has finally mentioned food you're realizing that you haven't eaten in 2 and a half days. You are starving, but with everything else that has been going on, food has been the last thing on your mind. Even now, you feel more queasy than hungry.

Reluctantly you accept his hand, gnawing the inside of your cheek to try to curtail your disgusted expression. Despite your subtle attempts to wriggle out of his grip, he doesn't let go until he sits you down at the kitchen bench.  

Observing him cook, smelling the onions, ham, and mushrooms sizzling in the pan you're nearly salivating. Never would you have thought a simple omelette could look so appetizing.  

The moment he sets the plate in front of you, however, something distant catches your eye. On the other side of the kitchen, just out of your reach is an unattended chef's knife. Jungkook has sat down at the far end of the bench to your right. There is nothing between it and you at this moment. 

Your mind starts working a hundred miles a minute. With where he is sitting he could never reach you before you were able to get to it.

This is too golden of a chance to pass it up. But you can't simply lunge for it. If you miss or knock it onto the floor he'll surely realize what you're trying, and you'll be without the knife to protect yourself.

Fear of missing such a perfect shot makes your heart start to beat in your ears. You can't screw this up!

Planning your moves you accidentally get food on your hand. You lick it clean, but fake and mime as if there is an excess amount of stickiness left. Standing up without a word, you walk as paced as possible to the other side of the benchtop, hoping he thinks you are just going to the sink. Hoping that your sub-par acting stops Jungkook from being suspicious.

And he isn't. He doesn't bat an eye. He doesn't even seem to be paying any attention.

This is your chance!

Snatching the knife, you hold it at arm's length in Jungkook's direction. Tightly clenching it between your two palms. Standing strong and braced. But he doesn't react. He's hardly moved. Only his elbow is lifted up resting on the bench. Looking at you with lacklustre disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. His expression looking to ask you wouldn't be that stupid, would you?

Disregarding you, he returns to his breakfast. Completely unphased. 

Uncertainty hits you like an oncoming truck.

You're already shaking with terror, but his lack of reaction is causing an emotion in you that is so intense and raw that you have to stifle the urge to be sick. 

"Hey!" You shriek, "Don't look away from me! You- unless you want to be stabbed you should- you need to put your hands down. On the table. Put them flat." Mentally you berate yourself for sounding so unfocused and weak. This isn't the tone you wanted to take. 

Unbothered, Jungkook looks up again. A small, closed mouth smile telling you how unintimidating he finds you. It's infuriating because it means that he's not taking you seriously. As if he doesn't see the weapon in your hands. As if he thinks you're not capable of hurting him.

Straightening up you take a half-step forward. Small cracks click from your stiff back as you try to appear taller and more confident. 

"Now!" You howl, using volume to further assert your authority. Hoping to god that he can't see the shake in your hands.

Restaining a laugh, he raises his hands in a playful surrender, laying them as you instructed, palms flat on the bench. Not taking his eyes off you as he does. Not even blinking. 

It's completely disorientating. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. You don't know that if it comes down to you versus him that you can beat him. Even with a weapon. You panicked when you saw it just sitting there. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. He doesn't seem worried at all. How are you supposed to beat crazy?

"Now what?" he snickers.

You just- you just have to figure out how to get out of here. You have to follow through. He must have a key to the front door. 

"Give me the keys," You demand, keeping the knife firmly in between the two of you as a source of protection. Trying to ignore his wide-eyed, unblinking stare. 

"What keys?" He teases, his voice raising. 

Oh god! Why isn't this working? Why isn't he doing what you say? 

You're starting to wheeze. This is insane. What is he going to do to you if this doesn't work? What happens if you don't get out of here? This was such a bad fucking idea! 

"Stop!" Your voice cracks. Your heavy breaths fill your words. "You know what keys I'm talking about. The ones for the front door. Give' em. Now!" 

You need to get out of here this instant. You're beyond petrified. You have to rid the doubt from your mind. You have the power. You have the knife. You're fine. I'm going to get out of here. Stay focused. You'll be safe and won't have to think about Jungkook ever again once you're free. 

He doesn't respond. Inch by inch you move around the bench until you come the end and only open space is standing between you and Jungkook. You know to stay back. You can't give him any chance to grab you. 

"Jungkook. Now!" All strength disappears and all that is left is a plead. 

"No." His casual reply makes your head spin. The ground falling out from under you. 

"What are you talking about?" You squeal. On the brink of tears. Barely able to hold yourself together let alone keep up a facade of dominance. "Give me the keys. Now! Or I'll stab you!"

You have a knife. You're finally the one in control. He's supposed to say yes not no. He's supposed to be scared.

"Go on then; stab me." He shrugs. His aloof, cold demeanour pushes you past panic and helps you focus your rage and momentarily shore your voice, giving it much needed steadiness and power.

"Listen here, you fucking lunatic. You have put me through hell, and I swear to God if you don't give me the key right now, I am going to-" he talks over you. Loudly and firmly cutting you off. 

"No, you listen you stupid bitch. Because I'm going to give you one chance, just one chance to put down your little toy and then get on your knees like a good girl." His smile becomes wide and toothy. He is revelling in this. In his threat. In your fear. "Or you can keep this up and see how all those scary things I said I could do become reality."

You're wringing the handle but for a second you almost lose your grip on the knife. You're trembling. Your knees are weak. It feels as if you could collapse with just a tap. A replaying of every horrid, terrifying thing he has threatened begins to flit through your head. And for a split instant, you have the thought to do what he says. To throw down the knife, drop to your knees, and beg his forgiveness. Beg him not to hurt you. To not kill you.

But you can't. You see the cruelty in his eye. The sparkle of enjoyment. You don't trust that he won't hurt you. And you know that should he keep his word and not retaliate, this psycho doesn't think some of what he has done is harming you. Even in the best-case scenario where he gives you full amnesty, he is still going to force himself on you again. He's still going to tie you down again. To touch you again. And given time he is still going to hit you again. And surely he will end up killing you.

And once this opportunity is gone, he will certainly be even more careful going forward.

No. It's now or never. You have to get out. You just have to! 

"Jungkook," Your voice is uncontrollably coming out as a hushed, timid whisper. "Please just give me the keys." you plead again.

His eyes are boring their malicious nature into yours. Reading you. Giving you the chance to rethink your answer and cave to his demands. But you don't accept.  

"Fine." He states. His icy calm sends a shiver down your neck. Slowly he slips his hand into his pants pocket keeping his palm open and in view the whole time, showing you exactly what he is doing. He pulls out a bundle of keys that are all looped together, holding them in his forefinger and thumb. Crassly he sets them on the bench and slides them over to you.

This is it!

A ripple of excitement and fear attacks you as you snatch them up. Seizing the keys to your freedom.

In a thoughtless reaction, you stumble back, preparing to bolt to the front door, but catch yourself. You need to make sure Jungkook can't follow you. You have to be smart.

"Stand!" You bark. To your disdain, that goddamned smirk has returned to his face. But thankfully he does as you say. "Move," You point to the far door in the kitchen. The one that leads down the hallway into the dungeon-like room.

He follows your instruction slowly. Too slowly. You're planted firmly and buzzing with impatience but you don't follow after him until he reaches the first door, keeping a sufficient distance between you two. He opens the door and takes a step down the dark hallway, turning over his shoulder to look back at you.

"Go." You demand, deathly strangling the handle.

After what feels like an eternity filled with time that could allow for everything to go wrong, he, at last, opens the door at the end of the hallway giving you a final cold glance. 

You're so close to crumbling. You haven't breathed the whole time. This needs to be over. 

Belatedly the door closes and you sprint down the hall after him, twisting the lock shut. A heavy clunk sealing him in. 

You did it!

He's trapped. You're free!

With all of your pent up energy you turn and bolt down the hallway into the light. Into the kitchen. Skidding the corner, your run past the bench tossing the knife into the sink making your hands free to properly handle the keys. 

Through the living room into the entrance hall, you don't stop running and instead come to a halt as you make contact with the door. Slowing just enough to not hurt yourself. 

Thumbing through the bundle, you're trying to find the most logical choice for which key could fit the lock. They all are mostly the same. Plain, silver, metal keys. But you choose the first that has a slight defining notch in it and place it to the lock. However, your hand is shaking so much that you are unable to insert it.

Scolding yourself, you chant a mantra to calm down. Breath. Calm. You're about to be free. Just breath.  

Steadying your grip you attempt again. You place the key and it fits, but it doesn't turn. 

That's okay, there are half-a-dozen here. One of them will work.

You take the next key and try it in both directions. It doesn't work. Then you try the next key and that one doesn't turn either. One by one you go through 5 more and not one of them opens. All of them are useless!

Every minuscule piece of restraint that you gathered together goes up in flames. Hysteria sends your chest into a wild rattling and you nearly collapse to the floor. Your body surges with an ache, every time your heart beats.

They don't work? How could they not work?!

Think calmly. Rationally. Please Y/n keep it together.

It's fine. They have to open something. They have to. There has to be a back door or a window. These keys will open something. And the worst-case scenario, if the keys don't work on any lock, you have Jungkook trapped. He isn't going anywhere. You have time to break a window or find a phone. 

Your phone! 

You can't believe it's taken you this long to think of it.  You had your phone in your backpack and you know your backpack came here with you because you were wearing it when he pulled you into the car. 

If you can find your backpack, you can find your phone and you can call the police. 

You have no idea where it is, but you have time to look. 

From the entrance hall, there are 6 possible directions. The front door, the small bedroom, the downstairs bathroom, the stairs, and the hall to the living room. The 6th door is one you have never seen past.  

Opening it, it leads you into the laundry. You nearly scream in elation as you find a heavy wooden door with a small window at head height. It's a door outside! 

You turn the knob and predictably find no easy escape. Cycling through the keys again your heart sinks just that little further as none of them work to your advantage. Frustration fills you to the brim and you scream in anger, slamming your fists over and over, beating anything you can make contact with. 

Why can't you just get out of here?!

Using that frustration you run in search throughout the remainder of the house, looking for any signs of your phone. Your sights first set on his room. You tear through his belongings. Ripping the room to shreds hoping to find your bag, or more keys, or anything. But after several minutes of scouring, left hot and sweating and panting, you have nothing to show for it but a sea of mess surrounding you. Y/n think. He isn't going to leave it anywhere you could find it. He's not that stupid. You're getting caught up and not thinking straight. Trying to find your phone is not the way to go. You need to focus on getting out of here first. There has to be a window behind that heavy curtain in the living room and a heavy chair should be able to do enough damage to get you free. 

Calm down and think logically.

You take a step towards the door and your body crashes into the carpet. Your knees are too unstable to hold you. Your mind is swallowed by fear. You just can't believe that you're not out yet. It's been nearly 10 minutes. You were supposed to be free by now! No stuck wandering your prison!

What if Jungkook breaks the door down? What if he catches you? Oh, God! What would he do to you?

You're driving yourself crazy with these thoughts. Get free Y/n. Find a window and get free. 

Burling down the stairs, your legs can hardly keep up with your momentum. In your head, you're picturing the broken open window you are about to create. You just need to throw the heavy black material to the side. Hell, one of these keys may even work on that back door. 

You're going to get out.

No sooner than your foot touches the bottom step you see something incomprehensible. 

Your body slams to a halt like you've hit a brick wall.

Jungkook. 

No! How?! Your head is rampant with so many intrusive thoughts that you can't make a steady idea.  

He's leaning against the hall entrance, his thick arms folded. Eyeing you with a haunting malevolence that you thought you'd never have to see again.  

"How?" Is all you can manage. Your restraint breaking, a flood of tears letting loose down your cheeks. 

Uncrossing his arms in a showy display, he lets you see a small black key in his palm. A boisterous laugh accompanying your wide-eyed despair. 

Your vision is blurry, your ears are ringing. Oh God, please, someone save me. 

There isn't any other choice but to run. You're so beyond fucked, the only hope you have is to hide and pray his anger subsides. 

Quickly scanning around the room, you make the fast decision to retreat up the stairs. His bedroom was unsuccessful last time, but if you can drag the chest of draws in front of the door, that might barricade the room well enough. Or you can try the second upstairs bedroom. You know the window is too high from up there, but maybe you will be able to attract attention from anyone nearby if you scream loud enough. That room has a chair you can use to block the door. You just have to move fast. 

Your darting look gives away your intentions. Seeing Jungkook notice your mental plan, you don't waste any time reacting. Stretching your legs as far as they will go, forcing as much power into them as possible, you bolt.

As you move so does Jungkook. But you're closer to the stairs than him. You're certain that you'll make it. 

Just when your foot connects with the bottom step a painful large chunk of your loose hair is caught. Instantly yanking you back, pulling you off the stairs onto the floor.

Drawn up through your hair, Jungkook hoists you onto your feet. Gasping in pain, you're unable to vocalize anything more. Hanging limply as he lifts you to the point of extension that your tiptoes just touch the floor. 

You want to thrash and kick and fight. But you can't. You've no control over your body anymore.  A fear-induced disconnect is separating your limbs from your mind. All you can manage is to limply push against his chest, trying to shove him away.

His dark, horrid chuckle fills your ringing ears and with his free hand he holds up the black key and demonstratively puts it in his pocket. Slowly, he lowers his face to yours, breaking past your barricading hands at his chest. His mouth resting just above your ear.

"You're going to wish you did what I told you."

[julemmaes]

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj

[spacexcowgirl]

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl​ who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option. 

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief. 

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone. 

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?” 

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

-

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party. 

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle. 

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face. 

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further. 

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely. 

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.” 

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point. 

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her. 

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair 

[exquisiteagony]

prompts:

1. "please kiss me" niko/joel blooddrunk 💔🥺

2. "can i watch?" olli/joonas/allu 🔥🍌

the blooddrunk one got long whoops. and it’s set after the one your niko/hannes fic inspired

1:

Ever since Niko had returned to the nest, things had been a little awkward between him and Joel.

Things had been downright bad before he’d left. Joel had been sulking and moody, snapping at Niko over the tiniest of things. He’d begun to outright avoid Niko, refusing to give affection when they had no choice but to be around each other.

The worst part had been the way Joel ignored him in the final week, like Niko didn’t even exist.

Niko had stubbornly refused to show how much that hurt. If Joel was going to punish him - for what? because Niko still didn’t know what had gone wrong - Niko would punish him back by pretending he didn’t care. Why should he be the one to try to stop the bridge from burning when he hadn’t done anything wrong? Why should he have to plead for Joel to tell him what was wrong; why the bond between them, the tug in Niko’s chest, was cold and empty.

Niko began to retreat up to the little loft, sleeping away his misery, only feeding when Joonas made him, gardening when Joel was inside and hiding himself away when Joel was outside. Aleksi joined him when he could, wrapping his arms around him and licking up his tears whilst Joonas and Joel argued bitterly, the sound of their raised voices horribly loud even through the wards.

It felt so viscerally wrong to accept comfort from Aleksi, because he wasn’t Joel, but it eased the ache in his chest a little bit.

Then he’d decided that enough was enough and he had to get out of the nest for a week or two.

When he’d returned, longing for the nest rooted deep in his heart, sure that he’d be turned out again, it was Joonas who saw him. He fell upon Niko, dragging him inside whilst trapping him in a tight hug, his face buried in Niko’s hair.

Aleksi had been the next to see him, coming out of the bedroom. He was yawning, hair mussed with sleep, but he’d blinked at Niko, surprise on his face like he thought he might be dreaming before rushing over to join the hug. “You’re back,” he’d said, voice cracking as he buried his face in Niko’s neck.

Niko’s eyes had welled up at that, the full reality of being back slamming into him. The weeks away had felt like eternity, and even seeing Hannes hadn’t helped much.

When Joel came out of the bedroom and saw Niko, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

They hadn’t spoken for a week, though Joel still licked him clean of blood and tears, the bond between them fluctuating between relief and awkwardness. Niko had taken it over their fighting and aloofness, and then one night Joel had confessed to him that he’d thought he’d lost him completely, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Niko started crying again at that. He’d felt the same, and the knowledge that it had all been mutual and down to some unspoken fear of Joel’s both hurt and soothed him.

“I never want to leave again,” he said. “I only left because I thought you didn’t want me any more.”

It took a good minute for Joel to reply. When he did, his voice was tiny, and raw from his own tears. “Everyone has left me apart from Joonas and Aleksi and Olli and Tommi. So many fledglings have lived in this nest. Aleksi is the only one who’s ever stayed.”

And then it all fell into place. Joel’s rejection matched up with-

“When I was blind, I didn’t have a hope in hell of being able to leave,” he said quietly.

Next to him, Joel shifted uncomfortably.

He’d been unthinkably selfish. He might have never stepped in to stop Niko regaining his eyesight, but he’d felt threatened by it.

And when threatened, Joel lashed out and shut himself away.

It took almost a month for things to ease up until they were back to normal. They were snuggling again, Niko seeking shelter in the scent of Joel’s neck, absently licking at the skin he found like he could eat Joel’s scent until Joel shifted about, arousal hot between his thighs and heavy sighs leaving his lips. Then Joonas would take his place and Aleksi would demand his attention as their sires saw to each other.

This time, Niko didn’t want that. Joel’s sighing and squirming had ignited heat in his gut, and he wanted more than Aleksi’s handjobs.

“Kiss me, Joel,” he breathed into the shell of Joel’s ear, watching his sire shudder at the sensation. “Please kiss me.”

2:

Joonas had forgotten that he was sharing with Aleksi until the sound of an awkward cough grabbed his attention.

Like they’d been burnt, he and Olli fell apart.

“Sorry, Alex,” he said, a harsh blush rising to his cheeks as he sucked in breath.

God, Olli was a good kisser.

He didn’t mind the audience, but Aleksi looked so embarrassed, face painted bright red, blue eyes darting about, unable to meet his gaze, that he had to apologise. Aleksi was barely able to keep still, like he was torn between darting to the door and pulling the sheets over his head to hide his face, almost mortified.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t want you two to get any further without realising I was still here,” Aleksi said quickly, looking down at the ground.

“Do you want my room key?” Olli asked softly. Looking back at him, Joonas could see no trace of embarrassment in him, instead merely interest.

“Only if you want me to leave,” Aleksi said quietly. Joonas swung his head back round, shifting on the mattress as his arms began to ache from how he was propped up.

Aleksi’s blush had deepened, if that was possible, and he was chewing on his lip.

A thought came to Joonas’s mind, and he smiled, trying not to let it curdle to a smirk. “You can say what you want, Allu,” he said smoothly.

The nickname made Aleksi’s blush spread down his neck, but he mumbled quietly, “can I watch?”

“Only if you promise not to touch yourself,” Joonas said back, delivering the words with a sweet smile as Aleksi squirmed.

When he looked back at Olli to kiss him again, Olli was almost smirking.

[neon-junkie]

Hey everyone,

This will be my final post addressing the fandom conflict that has quite frankly gotten out of hand. Although it’s very likely this post will be picked apart, no matter how well intended it is, I will no longer be addressing, interacting, or responding to any further accusations made against me. Of course, if people have questions from a genuine place of interest, I will be happy to clarify anything for you, either via DM’s or non-anon asks. I will not be answering anonymous asks on this, as I do not want anything else posted on this topic. 

As a side note: For anyone tempted to wade into the debate, I sincerely ask you not to get involved. Do not make yourself a target, do not feel you need to ‘pick a side’, and please do not think you have an obligation to reason with either side. It seems to be well past the point of that, so please find people you get along with in this fandom and curate a space for yourself away from all this conflict.

Warning: This post will contain uncensored slurs, mentions of racism, paedophilia, transphobia, LGBTQ+ phobia, death threats, threats of violence, targeted harassment, and abusive language.

To start off, I want to apologise to everyone who has somehow gotten drawn into this mess by either defending me, following me, or interacting with my content. This whole situation with me began well over a year ago when I wrote a crack-smut fic featuring Javier/Micah, posted back in August 2019. A crack fic is defined as “a work of fan fiction that is absurd, surprising or ridiculous, often intentionally.” It was inspired by a camp interaction between Micah and Javier, and like many other fanfiction writers, I decided to write smut about it. The fic was titled ‘Dirty Fucking Greaser’, and if that shocks you, I’m sure you can imagine how shocked I was to be informed afterwards that ‘Greaser’ was in fact a very serious 19th century slur for a Mexican individual. My first encounter with this word as insult was via RDR2, where it was used like a very casual insult. My only prior knowledge of this term was in regards to the greasers youth subculture, so the severity was lost on me. This obviously does not excuse my ignorance, and I should have researched the term better, but this is just again to apologize for that oversight, the insensitivity, and to highlight that my use of this term was not meant maliciously. Following this being pointed out, I proceeded to make 3 separate apology posts [Unfortunately I can only find the third one: HERE], renamed the fic, and added slur warnings in both the tags and the fic description. When I continued to receive complaints and increasingly aggressive abuse (which included being told my apologies weren’t good enough and I should delete my account and even kill myself), I attempted to delete the fic and mistakenly abandoned it instead. I contacted AO3 to see if it could be removed, but they said there was nothing they could do. I contacted their DMCA takedown team, who also said they couldn't remove it. Please note that all this happened 7-8 months ago, and has been dragged on for almost a year. 

So, from this one unfortunate incident, I’ve been branded a racist, and someone who attacks POC, when all I have done is tried to defend myself and correct my past mistakes. I could have done this more gracefully in the past, but frankly when you’re suddenly the target of unrelenting callout posts and nasty anons, it’s very hard to be open to criticism of this sort, but this is what I’m trying to move past.

Over the course of the year, this one mistake has spiralled, and the crusade against me has somehow coincided with moral conflicts over certain characters and ships. This has devolved into dehumanizing abuse, witch hunts, death threats, doxxing, anon hate, and much more unpleasant behaviour.

I have been in fandom for a very long time, and at the heart of all fandom circles is the fear of censorship and subsequent purges, so the ‘ship and let ship’ mentality was more or less the pinnacle of fandom philosophy. And yes, this can be problematic in some contexts. People have their right to be uncomfortable with content, have a right to be offended by content, but that is not content meant for you. This argument has devolved into ‘what material is morally right to engage with’ and that is a mentality in which fandom will not survive, because for every person who is telling me I’m an awful person for writing about Micah, there are three other people telling me how much they appreciate me making that content. For every fic in which I characterize Javier and Flaco a certain way, some people are made uncomfortable by it and others tell me they enjoy it. And this isn’t just white people, but POC too, which makes it very difficult to know whether I am genuinely in the right or the wrong, especially when it comes to the concept of ‘fetishization’ which I have been made aware I need to educate myself on. I intend to do so, but I disagree with the common accusation that finding non-white men romantically and sexually attractive is inherently fetishistic and makes me racist. It’s pushing a catch-22; don’t find POC sexually attractive? Racist. Find POC sexually attractive? Racist.

I am always willing to be (politely) approached about anything my readers may be concerned about, but if it’s something I’ve specifically tagged for (such as themes, scenarios, etc.) I’m afraid you consented to reading it and with that I cannot help you. You are just as responsible for curating your space and what you see/read just as much as I am responsible for tagging it appropriately.  

On the topic of racism, I want to bring up my prior use of ‘white racism’ which has obviously been a point of contention among both white and people of colour. The (literal) black vs white concept of racism is incredibly American-centric, and as someone from Europe, which has a history of oppression against white cultures and those of people of colour, it feels inaccurate. However, this has recently been discussed with me and I came to the realization that while growing up, especially in the UK, ‘xenophobia’ and ‘racism’ were marketed as one and the same. So, with this little revelation in mind, I will no longer be using ‘white racism’ (Or ‘reverse racism’) to identify the abuse I have been receiving, but will instead call it by what it really is; dehumanizing, debasing, xenophobic, puritanical.   

Very briefly, I will also touch on the NewAustin situation, which has also been dredged into this. I did not ‘chase a POC from tumblr’. NA was a minor who for some reason was on my 18+ blog and took issue with me, likely from the ongoing discourse regarding my fic and initial mistake, as well as my interest in Micah. They were subsequently harassed into deleting their account by anonymous hate following various conflicts with other users for their support of me or their ships in general. I have never encouraged my followers to target anyone, and have always asked to be blocked and blacklisted by those who do not like me or my content. When NewAustin messaged me following the deletion of their blog, I was admittedly indifferent to the point of being unkind, and accused them of sending the hate themselves. This was based on the anon hate being racially-driven without there being any prior knowledge or publication that NA was a person of colour. This aside, I should have at the time, whether I believed it was my followers or not, condemned this behaviour. Regardless of the issues I’ve had with these people, it is never ever ok to send hate to anyone, no matter the motivation behind it, and that should have been stated at the time.

All I can do at this point is acknowledged and apologize for my past mistakes, and try to improve myself going forward.  

It is not my place to dictate the morals of the character/ship-aspect of this argument, and I am not interested in waging a war of opinion. This post is simply to clarify how I am involved in this, and why I am so viscerally targeted. You can draw your own conclusions, but I am no longer interested in this endless back and forth.

To my mutuals/followers, I stand by my request to not interact and to block and move on, as this is what I’ll be doing too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope it makes things from my perspective a little clearer.

-RAT <3

EDIT: Just after this post was made, the fic in question was finally removed. I had to go through a DMCA take down, which can take months, since I originally abandoned the fic, thinking that meant delete. I explain this in more detail above. Said fic is gone, and has been gone since this post has been around.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Oh my gosh so I also headcannon Jack as autistic! But im not comfortable with writing it yet because idk how. Im not autistic; my little sister is and i know a few things jack could have trouble with... but hes a grown ass man so i just dont know. Im definitely taking notes on what you write him as but could you give me some pointers?....maybe?

Im mostly referencing to Bitter with this

aaaa yeah it definitely presents differently in adults who've learned to mask, personally I don't plan to put certain things in specifically to talk about how he's autistic, I write with the background knowledge of what traits he displays, and then express them when relevant, it's relevant a lot with Jack simply due to how much it affects his life

now this is going to get long, so bare with me, because this is a whole lot more complicated than you might expect

there's really no one correct way to write Jack, since there's no one way that autism presents itself, the way I write him is based on a mix of myself and some people in my family, so I can give you a basic idea of what angle I personally come from

for one, I change the way I write about facial expressions and how emotions come across to Jack, in Jazz's chapters I'll write about the exact emotion she can see on their face, with Jack's I'll go with an obvious base emotion, but then if the person is expressing something more complicated, I'll describe their face in physical details

eg;

Jazz POV - Danny was upset, but his face was tight with frustration

Jack POV - Danny looked sad, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard line

it's a subtle difference but it's one I try to maintain throughout Bitter, Jack's POV is based on how I have trouble reading non-obvious expressions, although in my case I also have trouble looking people in the face when I talk to them, that's harder to write in an emotion driven POV story, so I made Jack better at that than I am

his interest in machines is quite obvious, since he's an inventor, and he looooves infodumping on people, he gets very excited about his passions very quickly and his mouth runs off with him, something I also have trouble with, it hasn't been a prominent trait for Jack in Bitter, because he's so out of his element he's mostly confused and in a way, almost grieving his own death, so he's been far quieter than he usually is

his special interest is obviously ghosts and machinery, and in Bitter I cover that he's got a degree in engineering, physics and mathematics. He's good at them, I like to look at it as though Jack rolled high in intelligence and low in wisdom, he's book smart, he knows things that are straightforward and have firm rules, he's less comfortable in topics that are more wishy washy and vague, biology is complicated and has too many variables, he finds it difficult to grasp, there's no one standard rule that applies to every body

I also struggle with vague and unclear directions, I need a solid structure and clear instructions, my strength is in sorting, organising, alphabetising and colour coding, I like things to Look Right, I stick to a particular routine with very specific things, and it's viscerally uncomfortable and even distressing for me to have that order disturbed, I nearly had a meltdown at work because someone had done a part of my job incorrectly, and I had to fix it, it made me genuinely upset on a personal level, it was MY system, NOBODY should be touching it, NOBODY should be moving things around, they do anyway, and I spend a portion of my shifts just frustrated and on edge because of it

Jack also has issues socially, he often says or does things that other people find uncomfortable or embarrassing, I reference that in Bitter, where Jack assumes everyone is mad at him because he said or did something stupid, this I have much experience in, while in the middle of a social situation it's easy to just do what comes naturally to you and not realise it's off putting to other people, because people often play polite and you can't tell that they're uncomfortable, even though people around you find it painfully obvious

sometimes it's easy to see in hindsight after you've been told you made something awkward or uncomfortable, but in the moment if nobody says anything about it, you can remain either totally oblivious, or become anxious and second guess every interaction you have

Jack is the oblivious type, he's fortunate to live in a family that is fairly understanding, they might get frustrated with him, or embarrassed by him, but they don't really take it personally, they KNOW he means well, they know he cares, and Jack does care, he cares a lot, he feels things a lot, he's incredibly empathetic

this is a trait that a lot of media likes to ignore in depictions of autism, because I guess it makes people with autism seem 'too normal', when tv shows always want to be like 'hey wow look at this clever asshole! isn't he clever, but also an asshole! but you can't hate him because he's ✨autistic✨ and he can't help it'

that bothers me a lot, I mean some people with autism do have trouble relating and empathising with people, my brother is one of them, but some people with autism really empathise a lot, some of us feel things very strongly, I'm highly empathetic and it's a real struggle to cope with

so yeah, it is a very complicated thing, so you need to go in with an idea of what their character struggles with, how it affects them, and when it's relevant in the story, also autism falls on a very wide spectrum, some people, like myself, are able to mask well, but that creates a big issue with identity, when you start to wonder how much of you is real and how much of you is mask, then you have to decide if you want to lower that mask and accept the social consequences of expressing yourself naturally

I have a friend who presents a little more obviously, he's very rigid in his ways and he talks like he's reading from a script, I have another friend who can socialise just fine, but will go into a total meltdown when a plan gets derailed and she doesn't know what to do next

another friend I have is highly social and incredibly boisterous, she stims with her whole body, dances around a lot, she's chaotic and that can be off-putting to people, she's had to spend a lot of her life holding that back, she's only recently started learning how to be herself shamelessly

my brother was incredibly social when he was younger, and people always really loved him, but most of that is mask, he's socially anxious and just wants to be alone most of the time, and he's a total prick to his immediate family, I don't take that personally any more, since now I understand that he's so blunt and brutally honest because he isn't masking with us, but also he still needs to be called out when he oversteps, autism might be why he has difficulty empathising, but it's not an excuse to be a complete asshole, even people with autism need to be called out on shitty behaviour, it isn't a get out of jail free card, our self expression shouldn't come at the cost of hurting other people, most of us are more than capable of learning to not be an asshole

I know this is like, A LOT, but these are the things that need to be considered when writing about autism, it is an all encompassing thing that permeates your entire life experience, I absolutely welcome people like you to try to write about it! Because I think it shouldn't be a taboo subject, and I appreciate that you asked for advice and that you want to do it respectfully, you've probably seen first hand how difficult living with autism can be, having a family member on the spectrum, so you already have some experience to draw from, I don't know your relationship with your sister or how old she is, or where on the spectrum she falls, but if possible you can ask her about her experiences in particular situations that you're having trouble writing, if that's something you and she are comfortable with

I hope this helps, just remember to keep an open mind and listen to any feedback you might get, it is very VERY easy to misrepresent autism so don't be too hard on yourself if you don't quite get it right, if someone gives you a critique, take it in stride and use it to become better ~ you can even express that in an authors note, that you want to write it accurately and invite anyone with experience to share their opinion, because like I said, it is different for everyone and my experiences are not universal, and you're welcome to run something by me every once in a while if you aren't sure about it ❤️

[dixie12]

secret!sub!jonny, and pat finally finds out!

Jonny is acting weird. Like, really weird. They won the cup less than three weeks ago- Jonny should barely be sober, should be reaping the rewards of captaining the team to a second cup: free drinks, the admiration of the entire city, and the bevy of subs quite literally throwing themselves at his feet whenever he steps out of his front door. And sure, Jonny had seemed to enjoy it all for the first week or so, going out with the guys, letting them douse him in champagne, giving throaty victory speeches at the parade and chugging beers that adoring fans tossed at him. 

But the fun seemed to melt away pretty quickly after that, with Jonny getting tense and twitchy. He’d still go out with the team, probably because he knew Pat would physically drag him out if he tried to bow out this early in the celebrations. But he was distant, constantly checking his phone, eyes taking on a faraway look that was almost familiar to Pat, though he couldn’t figure out why. And despite the gorgeous men and women who approached Jonny every night, Pat didn’t think he’d picked up even once. 

It was one thing to hold off during the playoffs; Jonny was big on focusing and not being distracted, and “not wasting unnecessary energy, Pat.” Sure, planning a scene could take a little work sometimes, which Pat never minded, even during playoffs, but he understood that Jonny had always felt differently about that. But it was the off-season now, and they had weeks until they needed to start thinking about upping their training or even going to the convention. Now was the time to indulge. Pat certainly was; day-drinking, golf and baseball games during the hot summer days, a different sub in his bed most nights. 

Jonny had never really talked about his hook-ups in the locker room, not the way some guys did, visceral play-by-plays of all the paces they put their subs through, but Pat had always assumed he was just a gentleman, didn’t want to kiss and tell. Or, well, spank and tell, or whatever. But he’d never have predicted that Jonny would turn celibate when his popularity in the city had never been higher. Last night, an actual Playboy model, one who Pat recognized immediately, spent close to an hour hitting on Jonny, standing close, looking up at him adoringly through her lashes, stroking his shoulders and snuggling herself under his arm whenever Jonny moved. Instead of taking her up on the incredibly obvious come-on, Jonny looked even more awkward than usual. Pat watched as Jonny shifted himself away from her, putting distance between them, angling his body away from hers, eyes wary and back rigid. The girl gave it her all but finally realized it wasn’t going to happen tonight, walking away from Jonny in her four-inch heels and showing off an ass that nearly made Patrick cry with envy. 

Even from across the bar, Pat could see how tightly Jonny’s jaw was clenched, the tension radiating from his body. Pat watched as Jonny threw back the rest of his drink and turned, walking right past their table and out of the bar. He didn’t even throw a glance in their direction, heading straight into the street. Pat exchanged confused looks with the rest of the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer for Jonny’s behavior. Pat pulled out his phone, looking for a text from Jonny to at least say he was heading out. He had a lot of offers to party, and text threads with most of the team that just amounted to them texting “we won the cup!!!” back and forth every day, but nothing from Jonny. Pat sent him a quick “everything ok, man?” but then let himself be distracted by the boys.

In the morning, well, afternoon, to be honest, when Pat woke up, he still hadn’t heard anything from Jonny, and seriously, that was enough. Whatever was going on with him was getting worse instead of better, and Pat was sick of it. He had nothing on his schedule for the day, and he decided that he was going to drag the truth out of Jonny one way or another. He usually texted Jonny to let him know he was coming over, but at this point, he was worried Jon might actually throw the deadbolt on him. No, the element of surprise was definitely what he needed.

He thought about bringing food as a peace offering, but if Jon was already feeling off for whatever reason, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Providing like that was something that doms did for their subs, and while Pat and Jonny didn’t really let that stop them most of the time, Pat didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. Better to make sure Jonny felt comfortable in his own space before Pat started digging for answers. 

Pat walked the few blocks to Jonny’s apartment, rolling over possibilities in his mind on the way. Jonny definitely wasn’t seeing anyone, so relationship trouble wasn’t on the list. He’d just seen Jonny’s family when they were in town for the parade, and they were all doing great, his parents enjoying their retirement and David back in school studying sports management. They shared the same agent, and Jonny had been on fire during the playoffs, so their contracts shouldn’t be a concern, either. By the time Pat arrived at Jonny’s apartment, he was no closer to an answer than when he started, but starting to worry even more. If it wasn’t something obvious, but it was still stressing Jonny out this badly, maybe it was serious. Could Jonny be sick? A wave of horror washed over Pat as he remembered a few hard hits Jonny had taken over the six weeks of playoff hockey. Maybe the concussion was back? He hurried in the front door of Jonny’s building, unable to wait any longer. 

Jon’s doorman waved at him, asking if Pat wanted him to call up to Jon, but Pat shook his head, grateful when the doorman just nodded and pointed towards the elevator bank. Pat had to stop himself from pacing back and forth in the small space, focused on taking a few deep breaths, fighting his growing sense of panic.

He barely waited for the doors to open before he was off, half-jogging down the hallway to Jonny’s apartment. He grabbed his keyring, flipped to Jonny’s and unlocked the door, giving a quick knock as he walked in.

Jonny was sitting on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between them. He looked… fragile, almost, like he was struggling to hold himself together. Small, in a way that Jonny never was. 

“Hey, man,” Pat started, and Jonny’s head bolted upright, clearly surprised. Jonny’s apparent shock made Pat even more uncomfortable; a dom should never be caught by surprise like that in his own space, should always be acutely aware of his surroundings, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. Admittedly, Jonny’s high-rise, protected as it was by a 24/7 security desk and locked door, wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Jon’s inattention still made Pat’s skin crawl with unease.

“Pat,” Jonny said, looking away quickly, and that, too, was unusual, the lack of eye contact a startling departure for Jonny. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he continued, and his voice was quiet, projected towards the floor rather than Pat.

Pat was at a loss for words, unsure of what to say and unsettled at Jon’s behavior. He waited for Jonny to fill the silence, but Jon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even get up to offer Pat a bro-hug or a drink, just kept hanging his head, fidgeting with his hands so much that Pat longed to go over to him, grasp Jonny’s hands in his own and settle him down. He shook his head once, trying to get a handle on himself. Doms didn’t need “settling down,” not from other doms, at least, and Pat didn’t know where the urge had come from. Jonny just wasn’t acting much like a dom right now, and it was messing with Pat. 

The silence hung in the air for a few more moments, and then Jonny visibly gathered himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Pat. 

“Sorry, man,” he said, voice flat but sounding a little more like himself. He gestured down at his phone and continued “just got a text from Dan. His grandfather died, and he has to go to France for a few weeks, handle the estate.” His voice trailed off at the end, eyes taking on that same familiar look Pat had been noticing recently. Pat waited for more of an explanation, but none came. He knew that Dan was Jonny’s childhood best friend, that they usually hung out when Jonny went back to the Peg over the summer, but he had no idea why his grandfather’s death was hitting Jonny so hard.

“Sucks, man. You guys were close, then?” Pat guessed, unable to come up with another reason why Jonny seemed so upset.

“No. I’d never actually met him, he moved back to France like thirty years ago.”

Pat was even more confused now, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for an explanation. Jon’s shoulders hunched down even further, like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore.

“I just... usually, Dan and I..” Jonny was struggling, words forced out a few at a time, breath coming more quickly, “we.. he.. He helps me out,” Jonny finished, and his voice broke on the last word. He turned to look at Pat, then, and he looked impossibly young, expression crumpled and miserable. His eyes were wide and lost, filling with tears, and Pat saw fear there. Fear that he knew he would never see from a dom, but that his hindbrain recognized right away.

Later, he was so incredibly thankful that he moved on instinct, ignoring six years of etiquette, decorum and careful boundaries. Ignoring all of it in his haste to get his hands on Jonny. At the time, it felt impossible to do anything else. He was at Jonnys’s side in just a few steps, dropping onto the couch next to him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and pulling Jonny down into his chest. Soothe, his mind insisted. Make it better. Make him safe. And Pat did, holding Jonny close, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles on his back.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” Pat whispered. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, for Jonny to fight him, maybe, jerk away and ask what the fuck Pat thought he was doing. Pat felt the strong muscles of Jonny’s back tense under his hand for just a few seconds before his entire body melted, letting Pat take his weight. 

Pat kept them there, pet names and praise falling easily from his lips, as he felt the world snap into place. It almost made sense, now. Jonny rarely picked up, never talked about his hook-ups. He flushed red in the locker room sometimes, and darted his gaze away when reporters complimented him. He was unusually touchy with his family, letting his mother muss his hair and kiss his forehead, letting David push him around. Taken together like that, and stripping away the underlying assumption that Jonny had to be a dom, it painted a pretty clear picture of what Jonny had desperately been trying to hide all of these years.

Fuck.

A sub. Jonny was a sub. A sub who was desperate for a kind touch and a sweet word right now. Pat remembered that strange phone call from last summer, when Jonny sounded so fucked out, calling him ‘Patrick’ before Dan took the phone away, and the last piece slotted into place. Dan must be Jonny’s dom, or at least a dom that Jonny felt comfortable submitting to, probably the only one. It explained why he always disappeared to Winnipeg right after the season, virtually unreachable for a week. And it explained why Jonny was so upset that Dan would be out of the country. Pat figured Jonny had been getting by on sheer determination, willing himself to just make it back to Winnipeg where he could finally let go, finally be himself, and finding out today that that wouldn’t happen must have broken him.

Shit, judging by how easily Jonny was accepting his touch, he probably hadn’t submitted for close to a year now. Pat couldn’t imagine getting up every day, making it through four brutal rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs, playing his heart out and leaving it all on the ice the way that Jonny had done while fighting down the instinct and desire to submit. Never being able to let go the way his body would have been demanding, yearning for. Never being able to let his guard down for an instant, always vigilant against people finding out. Pat was filled with pride at Jonny’s strength, but there was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, and Pat recognized it as the feeling he got when he’d let his sub down. When someone had put their complete trust in him and he was found undeserving of it. Jonny wasn’t his sub, but Pat still felt responsible for him now. He knew Jonny better than anyone, and he’d been blind to this secret that seemed so obvious now.

Jonny stirred against his chest, and Pat stroked a hand under his chin, tilted his head up to look at him. Jon’s pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy, cheeks a rosy, delicious pink. Pat had never seen a sub look more beautiful in his submission. 

He wanted Jonny to get whatever he needed out of this, knew it was what was right for Jon’s physical and mental wellbeing to let him stay in subspace, but the couch was getting uncomfortable. He looked around for a kneeler for Jon before realizing that there weren’t any. Weren’t any accessories, actually- no cushions, no cuffs strewn around, no paddles or crops, and his heart broke again at what Jonny was depriving himself of for hockey. For the team. For Pat.

Pat reached behind him, hands grabbing for a pillow from the back of the couch. He found one, dropping it on the floor, and nudged Jonny gently. Jon’s eyes opened slowly, eyelids fluttering like he was dragging them against a heavy weight, and his breathing was slow and deep. His brow creased as he looked up at Pat.

“Patrick?” he asked, and that one word came out in such a honey-sweet reverent tone that Pat knew immediately he never wanted to hear anyone else say it again.

“Yea, baby, I’m right here. Just want you to be comfortable,” Pat answered, gesturing down at the pillow at his feet.

“Is,” Jonny cleared his throat, “is this ok?”

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

[lemony-snickers]

I ship one of the pairings you have mentioned but I only do it when they are fully adults and have rarely read anything nsfw for them and I don’t talk about them on my blog. Would that still be okay or am I going to be blocked? I don’t want to lose our friendship ☹️

hey there, anon.

let's dig into this a little bit (i hope you don't mind) because i actually have some very conflicted thoughts on this.

student/sensei ships make me deeply uncomfortable, as i've said. that's a period. full stop. i do not care what age they are; they met when one person was a fully matured adult and the other was a child. that's gonna be a hard pass for me, regardless.

what i will say is, depending on who this is, i might actually already know your identity because i know i interact with a few people who ship at least one of these things on a semi-regular basis. it's almost unavoidable in this fandom, which is probably why i spent a decade just not interacting with a single other soul in the naruto community, lol.

in the end, i do fully agree that people should be allowed to ship what they want. these are make-believe, 2-dimensional characters from a cartoon. i get that. so it's on me to make sure i'm not interacting with content that makes me uncomfortable.

to do that, before i follow anyone (or follow them back), i scroll through their blog for posts related to these ships. if i see even one, i will not follow. (this goes for ao3 accounts, too; if your bookmarks are public, i will look at them and make my decision based on that information.) same for fanart; i won't even rb stuff if i know the person who creates it ships one of these things simply because i want to keep it as far out of my orbit as possible.

because based on my own personal history & experiences, these things can really upturn my entire day. even seeing the ship name sends this visceral reaction through my body (oh, hey my mostly ignored ptsd, nice to see you again!).

as such, i will often block on sight blogs that are recommended to me by tumblr's lame-ass algorithm if they are blogs dedicated to these types of ships and have zero remorse about it. i also recently blocked someone who writes solely for one of these ships because they reblogged some of my content. i felt really badly about it for, like, an entire night. i don't like blocking people. i don't enjoy that these things have such a measurable impact on my well-being.

but we each have to decide where our comforts and discomforts lie and prioritize that. because if we don't, who tf else will?

so what i am going to say is: if you keep that shit off my blog, we can probably be cool for the most part. i'm never gonna follow your, and i hope you will understand and respect that decision.

but as i said in that recent post, if anyone who i know ships one of these things spreads any team 7-specific content i have created, that's a hard no. you want to reblog my smutty kakashi/reader fics? that's fine. (unless someone were to tag it with a ship name in which case, like, why? there is so much content for those ships everywhere, please leave me out of it.)

just, please, understand there are reasons these ships are so upsetting to me. just as i'd never push anyone to accept something i shipped & they didn't, and i would never expect anyone who is uncomfortable with reader-insert smut to interact with my page, i hope others will see where i'm coming from even if we disagree on ships.

i hope that helps. sorry it's so long; this has been eating at me for a while, tbh. i hope you are having a good day. <3

[bastillia]

First Lesson (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: Commander Kylo Ren needs a competent officer to accompany him on an important mission, and he has requested you specifically. When he discovers that you don't know how to pilot a TIE fighter, he takes it upon himself to fix that. Turns out cockpits are good for other things, too. 

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7.4k

Content Warnings: possible dubcon, choking, spanking, inappropriate use of the Force, rough sex, minimal aftercare, cockwarming… yeah. 

A/N: Wow so this is officially my first published work after lurking in the fandom for a good 4 years??? Holy shit. I'm super nervous, but hey, I've got to start somewhere! I've had this silly idea gnawing around in my little rat brain for fucking ever, so it feels good to finally pound it out (heh). I have... literally never written smut before, sooo I welcome any feedback. Thank you for reading this!

"Take a fighter. Follow me to the surface."

The commander strode powerfully over the gangway, dismissing you with a flick of his gloved hand as he approached the yawning cockpit of his TIE silencer. Engineers scrambled aside like rats to sunlight as he moved, conveniently parting a clear path for you to follow the rippling tower of black robes across the platform. You stumbled and jogged slightly to keep up, your gaze shifting nervously along the sinister row of TIE fighters. They sat anchored to the dock, still as a cavalry line at dawn, each black durasteel destrier awaiting its chance to charge into battle. But there was no impending fight here. Why weren't you taking the command ship?

"Commander. Sir, w-wai-" You collided with an unyielding wall of black, having not been looking where you were going. Ren had stopped and was now turned to look at you, posture stiff, eyes burning with impatience. You straightened sharply and jumped back, shying away from your next words as your cheeks burned under the dark beam of his stare.

"I... I don't know how to fly one. S-sir." You managed to say, and your heart plummeted into your stomach with the admission. It seemed childish. Silly. But-- what would he think of you now? You had always admired the commander more than you'd ever admit to your peers, and if you were honest, you found him wildly, dangerously attractive. There was something about the way he barely held back. The fire that shone behind his dark eyes like they were the only living part of a face cast in carbonite, that made you dare to wonder what he would look like if he let go. The power that radiated from him was always so visceral, yet restrained. Except, of course, when he had his outbursts. You only ever saw the aftermath: a shredded, glowing control panel, a dazed and heaving officer slumped against the floor after being Force-choked within an inch of death over a particularly inconvenient mistake. You'd be lying if you said such unbridled evidence of his power didn't stoke a flame of intrigue. And perhaps something else.

You had only recently been promoted to lieutenant general, but you had a feeling Kylo Ren had watched you closely for some time. You saw it in the shift of his eyes whenever you passed him by, the particular burn of his stare when you delivered reports on behalf of your superior general. You'd never known a commander to hold such a piqued interest in the drabble of stormtrooper reconditioning scores. Or why he had to fix his gaze so intently on you that you could swear he was trying to turn your blood molten. 

You knew that you were more than competent in your position, yet you couldn't quell a desire to impress the commander. Whether it was with your sharp aptitude for command, tactical maneuvers, or securing risky strategic alliances, you always tried to establish presence. To command the room, intimidate both your peers and subordinates with your sharp wits, and earn those rare, blood-branding stares of approval from Kylo Ren when your steel confidence washed a hush over the room. What you'd never admit was how that steel later melted down into gushing whimpers under the forge of your sheets, imagining the kinds of things that your commander might do to you. 

You'd had to forcibly smother your elation when you received the order for your aid specifically on this mission, not even knowing until a few minutes ago that it was you, and only you, that Kylo Ren had requested to come along. It sank like a cold blade into your gut now to know that your ineptitude would make him think less of you. The knife twisted with the realization that you would be left behind on the only opportunity you might ever get to spend some time alone with the commander.

He looked at you for a moment, expression unreadable. How had your command training not included basic piloting by default? A brief flash of anger lit his eyes and set his jaw tight as he thought about whoever's incompetence he would have to deal with later when he reviewed the training program. But for now, there was no time. 

Your eyes were fixed to the metal grate of the floor, stomach knotting, as you steeled a calm mask over the disappointment that tightened your throat. You began to speak, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I’m sorry, Commander. I will inform mission control that you are in need of--" Before you could finish, Kylo Ren clamped his arm around your waist, pulling you firmly to his body as he leveraged his hips in one fluid motion to drag you with him into the small cockpit of the TIE silencer.

Your brain reeled, a small yelp escaping your lips as your ass landed firmly into his lap, one of his arms anchoring you there while his other hand reached to flick a control above him. Before you could stammer out the question of what the fuck he was doing, the cockpit was already hissing closed around you both. 

"First lesson." 

Your pulse was a flurry. He began to flip the controls absently, looking easily over your head as you awkwardly adjusted yourself on his thighs. The space was so small, there was absolutely no position you could assume that didn't involve your ass planted into his hips, your back against his broad torso, and your calves draped around either side of his ridiculously long legs. Your head spun. The thrusters hummed to life. Fuck. Everything was moving too fast. His gloved hand began to point individually at each control he had just engaged.

"Auxiliary." 

His voice was dead even as he pointed to the first switch on your left, the movement of his arm making his chest ripple under your shoulder blade. Your brain was a mess of thrill and panic. Was this really happening right now? Heat flowed in a river down your spine and pooled in the roiling cauldron of your belly. Whether it wanted to wash you away, or pull you in like a rip current to his body, you couldn’t decide. His hand moved to a lower control panel where the second switch sat, affording you little time to take in what he was saying. 

"Compressor." 

You tried hard to focus on his words, blinking the spinning confusion out of your eyes as you dumbly studied the path his hand had just taken. You blinked again, hard. Auxiliary. Compressor. Okay. You forced yourself to bid the controls to memory, trying to catch up as he moved along. Four adjacent switches to your right had been next. 

"Ignition," 

His gloved finger drew languidly against the curved switch in a way that suddenly made your skin light up against every solid line of his body pressed flush to yours. Your thighs tensed. Heat climbed your neck as you struggled to hold onto a fragile thread of focus. 

"Thrusters." 

He gestured to the final three buttons. Fucking breathe. Ignition, thrusters. Okay. Simple enough. You sobered yourself sternly and nodded your understanding as you flicked your gaze along the control path that started the engines, internally repeating it several times as your heartbeats became distinguishable again. It was quick. Concise. Fitting, you thought, for a state-of-the-art starfighter prototype that might need to get airborne in a hurry. It was certainly far less brain-scrambling than the orchestrations you'd seen performed upon the control panels of freighters to wrangle them towards liftoff. Why don't they label anything in those damn ships anyways?

"Now," Ren’s hands gripped your hips, instantly shattering your moment of composure. Stars, why did he have this effect on you? And why did a part of you never want it to end? He adjusted your seat, pressing you slightly straighter against him, and you could feel the warm, solid contour of his abdomen flex under your spine. You swallowed hard.

"Steering is intuitive." His palms smothered the backs of your hands as he picked them up, guiding them to grasp the vertical steering grips. Your blood felt uncomfortably hot in your veins. He kept his hands wrapped firmly over top of yours, arms encircling you like a gigantic fucking scaffold, coaxing you to lift the handles very slightly upwards. The craft lurched to life in response, and you were suddenly thankful for his hands holding yours steady as your heart threatened to explode from your ribs. 

It was intuitive, you'd give him that, even if your intuition felt starkly absent from your brain at the moment. The body of the craft lifted smoothly, almost sentiently, with the subtle upward press of the handles. Still, the sudden g-force of liftoff sank you firmly into the commander's lap, amplifying an alarming and far too pleasant stir that agitated the pit of your belly. 

You breathed slowly, trying to stay as still as possible on top of him, your brain still coming to grips with what the fuck was occurring right now. You thought maybe you'd had a dream like this once. Come to think of it, the enigmatic commander had starred in many of your most pleasant dreams -- with or without the mask. Oh, stars. You screwed your eyes tight, inwardly cursing your useless fucking brain. Did you really have to think about that right now? You were definitely blushing. A puff of breath hit the back of your neck. Wait- Did he just chuckle? 

You didn't have time to figure out the answer as his gloved hands flexed over the top of yours and your eyes flew open, finding that the fighter was now hovering a comfortable distance from the hangar floor. He pressed your joined hands forward, and the ship responded gorgeously, accelerating towards the mouth of the docking bay in a smooth departure that made your veins flutter with a thrill of adrenaline. Vacuous darkness swallowed the viewport as the Supremacy was left swiftly in your wake, and you released a lungful of air you didn't know you had been holding. An unexpected calmness suddenly blanketed you as everything fell to the periphery. As your wide eyes adjusted to the void, a spattering of stars slowly blinked into view, decorating the expanse. It was... silent. Still. Breathtaking. 

Ren pulled the grips under your hands back like the reins of an obedient steed, and the craft responded as such. The only indication that the fighter had stilled was the slightly quieter hum of the idling ion thrusters vibrating softly through the air of the cockpit. Your respite was brief. The tranquility of space was magnifying your far-from-tranquil realization that you were now decidedly, irreversibly alone with the commander, and your insides folded in half. 

You hardly dared to breathe, let alone move, your senses suddenly augmented and trained sharply onto Kylo Ren as you sat pressed into his lap. His lap. Maker, have mercy. Your clean-pressed uniform suddenly felt tight and stifling around your neck, and you swallowed thickly. 

"Take over." 

He spoke curtly into the silence, almost making you jump as the baritone rumbled close to your ear. Stars, everything he said was a fucking command. You couldn’t deny how much you’d always enjoyed the rich color of his natural, unmodulated voice, taking secret reverence in the way he could paralyze a room with it. Nor could you ignore the way that every word he spoke was now having the opposite effect, riling up that dismayingly persistent heat between your legs. 

He slid his hands off of yours, leaving you in full command of the sleek starfighter. Nerves needled a patchwork in your gut as you stared disconnectedly at your own bare hands gripping the controls. They might as well have been someone else's entirely. Two palms settled over the tops of your thighs, and the gesture pierced all the way to your brain.

By the void, calm the fuck down. You grounded yourself sternly, tightening your grip around the contoured handles and forcing yourself to feel their texture, the ridges that dug into your skin, the tension that rippled up your arms and into your shoulders as you squeezed them. Breathe. There was a reason you'd been promoted so fast: it was your aptitude toward levelness and situational control under pressure. You could do this. Just... treat it like another test. Taking a steadying breath and fixing your brow in determination, you pressed the grips forward. 

If you thought takeoff was intuitive, now that you somewhat had your frayed wits about you, this was like an extension of your own consciousness. The silencer handled like a dream, and you quickly got the hang of its basic movements, almost forgetting your strange predicament as you took surprising delight in steering the agile craft through the vacuum of space. Kylo Ren hardly moved beneath you. He seemed to be letting you feel the ship out on your own, but his hands occasionally flexed over the curve of your thighs, his fingers splaying into a wide grip that pressed heat into your veins. An alarming reminder, each time, that he was paying attention. Always paying attention.

You cut the silencer back towards the Supremacy after a short while, and were surprised to note that the stifling mega class dreadnought seemed much… smaller, from out here. It felt strange, looking upon the massive vessel that encompassed your entire life, whose halls and chambers you had meticulously memorized, as if it were no more than a distant memory. The perspective settled a quiet feeling inside you that you couldn’t quite formulate.

Also in view, and framing the silhouette of the star destroyer impressively, was your ultimate destination. A large planet, twinkling with tiny rivers of light between clouds, and crowned in a halo of white flame from this system's central star. The planet would be the site of your mission, which, you noted -- the commander still hadn't even briefed you on. You funneled the nervous pang at the thought into determination as you caressed the controls again, considerably braver now about handling the craft.

In a moment of spontaneity, you locked the arches of your feet under Ren's calves and accelerated sharply, whipping the silencer into a tight barrel roll. A breathy, delighted laugh swelled in your chest before you could catch it as you righted the ship to its initial orientation again.

"Good," Ren murmured into your hair, a large hand sliding up to your belly as you reined the ship smoothly to a halt. He pressed you slightly tighter to him with a splayed palm, his strong nose grazing your ear, and the responding thrill between your thighs set your brain back to spinning. You suddenly became aware of a firm knot under your seat that you hadn't noticed before, and your breath stopped. You'd been so distracted maneuvering the ship, you couldn't be sure. You cocked your hips slightly, daring to shift against him, and with the movement it was undeniable: Kylo Ren was hard as a rock. 

You gasped, and the moment you tensed, a gloved hand snaked up to slam into your throat and pull you roughly back against a solid chest, breath hot and immediate in your ear. 

"Don't think I haven't noticed..." His voice was dark and dangerous as his free hand slid to your inner thigh, gripping the sensitive flesh there, your airway closed tight. You trembled, pulse galloping, as a spear of adrenaline ignited each of your most primal instincts at once. 

"...How you can hardly keep those eyes to yourself around me." His lips were warm against the shell of your ear as his nose grazed the baby hairs at your temple, the feeling adding a confusing tingle to the sharp claws of terror that gripped you. Your pulse was deafening, and you struggled to find either breath or coherence under his iron grip. His hand on your throat loosened slightly with a creak of leather, and the sweetness of air crashed into your lungs.

"I could say the same," you breathed without thinking, suddenly wondering if you actually had a deathwish. His hand flexed threateningly on your throat and you flinched, but he simply breathed a dark chuckle into the hollow of your ear. Oh. That made you fucking shiver. 

"Observant." He slowly ground his hips up into you, more or less fucking his prominent erection against your ass. Needles of fear laced confusingly into a wash of desire as a soft noise escaped you, and you bit your lip to catch it in its tracks as he continued. "But I know every thought you've ever had about me, lieutenant." Oh, stars. Fuck. You knew he’d paid attention to you, but not that closely.

"It's pathetic, really… " He continued to grind torturously against you, his broad hand pinning your thigh the same way a predator might hold down a piece of live prey that it wants to toy with for a while before killing. "...The way you try so hard to impress me." His growl bottomed out on the emphasis with a decisive roll of his hips that sent an electric shock careening to your core. You squirmed against him, but his grip on your neck and leg had you on an axis that allowed precious little freedom. His hips continued their disciplined pace as he spread his knees slightly, forcing your own to follow, and his thumb traced electricity into the tender patch of thigh just below your most intimate parts. You clenched at the closeness of it.

"But…” he purred, tone shifting slightly.

“The things that cross your mind at night?" You froze with dread, wishing the ice in your spine would somehow percolate into the space around you, freeze it into stasis so that he wouldn't continue with his next words. But Kylo Ren was a furnace, burning the unlimited fuel of your fear, and he rumbled on. 

"When you touch that wet little cunt, and think about me?" He lifted his palm away briefly - the predator's illusion of mercy - before delivering a hard, stinging smack straight to your inner thigh. Your cunt convulsed. 

"Filthy."

A silent pause filled the cockpit, allowing both the word and the impact to sink into your nerves before he slowly circled his glove across the tingling flesh under his hand. Your bones went gelatinous, and, stars, you whimpered. It was a sound so foreign to even your own ears, that you startled yourself. 

His straining cock pulsed against the curve of your ass, and he swore darkly, sliding his hand on your thigh up to cup your sex through the fabric of your pants. You were already wet and aching, you could feel it, but the slight pressure of his hand over your sensitive heat drove your need to a frenzy. Another whine leaked unbidden from your lips. 

“Tell me, lieutenant, how do you prefer me?” His voice was cruel and dark, drawing out your torment as he began to tease your slit with a pressure so light you thought you might die on the spot. 

“With, or without the mask?” He pressed down, rolling his forefinger over your clit in a firm motion that sent sparks into your brain. Your mouth fell open in an obscene moan that echoed around the cockpit. Kylo Ren stiffened, tightening his grip on your throat and stilling the pressure on your aching bud.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know in your gut that an answer was required. Your stomach quivered. This was his game, and you were going to have to play at it if you wanted any of your deepest, most secret desires to come to fruition now. And stars, you wanted it bad. You found a few breaths, collecting fragments of your voice. 

"Any w-way you'd have me, C-commander." Your voice was hardly intact, but you managed to breathe the words out through your daze of terror and need, finally pushing your own ass back into the motion of his hips. He released a warm huff of breath into your ear, seemingly pleased. Thank the Maker. 

"That's right."

His soft hair dusted your ear as he dipped to latch a hot kiss into your neck, pulling your head slightly aside for better access. His tongue was molten and wet against your skin, and the feeling sank straight to your core. You reeled and whined as he sucked a bruise into your throat, taking his time tasting you, his hand over your pants drawing an embarrassing volume of wetness from your aching cunt already. You dropped your hands beside you and sunk your nails into the fabric over his thighs, need overflowing from your skin and into his body. 

Kylo Ren sucked a breath through his teeth and slipped the hand on your throat upwards, gripping your jaw instead and pushing the leather pad of his forefinger through your lips. You accepted it a little too eagerly, sucking it in delicately and running your tongue across the ridges in the supple material as you relished the expensive taste. He hummed and slid a second thick digit into your mouth as his lips and teeth continued to worry the tender skin of your neck, and you were sure you would bear the dark purple evidence of his possession for at least a week. You didn't care. 

His ministrations had your body pliant and wanting in no time, and your thighs had involuntarily begun to relax, falling wider around each side of his lap even as the sharp edge of a control panel dug into your leg. You felt the rigid hilt of the saber on his hip as well, a sensation that paralyzed you for a moment with a new spike of fear and thrilling desire. He ascended from your neck with a sharp nip. 

"So eager, lieutenant." He clicked his tongue once and landed a sharp spank straight to the mound of your pussy. It made you jump, and clench hard with a small, leather-muffled yelp. He deftly switched hands, removing his fingers from your mouth as his other hand closed around your neck. His moistened digits dipped below the waistband of your pants, and you felt his own breaths quicken underneath your shoulders, exciting you. The smooth, warm leather slid easily down your folds, drawing a gasp from you as he collected and spread your arousal. Now, this, you had definitely dreamed about before. He circled slowly across your clit, slicking it over in a motion that sparked white ecstasy through your nerve endings, and you whined pathetically. 

"What would your superiors think," Kylo Ren's deep, mocking voice dripped through you as he slid one finger down to tease your entrance. Your hips bucked, trying in vain to draw him in. "If they knew what a desperate little whore you are for your commander?" 

Your brain stuttered then. An involuntary smirk pulled at your lips as you conjured the image of your superior general, and how his eyes always seemed to darken when they wandered a little too far down your uniform. You didn't consider the fact that your mind was on full display to Ren before the brat center of your brain produced one clear thought. 

They'd envy my commander.

You bit your tongue hard the second the thought formed, as if you could banish it with the flash of pain, hoping desperately that he hadn't read your mind. But the way that Ren’s whole body went rigid suggested otherwise. Maker damn your smart ass. 

His hand fisted into your hair, wrecking your neat bun, and he wrenched your head to the side, forcing you to look up at him. Your brows knitted together in pain, but you dared not whine about it as you met his stare. His eyes were black saucers, clouded with such a tenebrous fury and lust that it made your walls flutter in time with your stomach.  

"Is that so?" The ice in his voice squeezed your veins. 

Gone was all that confidence that you prided yourself on in your profession, all the poise and tact and sharpness of wit. It slipped as easily as water through your fingers now as you drowned in the inky depths of his stare, fear anchoring your words to your diaphragm with no means of escape. 

Ren studied you, embers flaring in the pits of those live irises, framed by the beautiful stone hearth of his face. He moved your head back and forth a bit by his grip in your hair. You winced, but your muscles might as well have been liquid, unable to resist him in the slightest. He was testing your pliancy, considering. 

"Open your mouth." 

There was no warmth, no tease behind the words, and as if they flowed straight into your neurons directly, you obeyed. Your jaw fell open, your pink tongue pushing slightly against the pillow of your lower lip as it rested over your bottom teeth. He spat into your mouth, holding your stare in the tight space as… Oh. He sank two thick fingers straight into your soaking core, stretching you full, holding them rooted inside you. You might as well have been vibrating. 

"Swallow." 

The command was deadly. You snapped your jaw shut and complied, heart thrumming with fear and a hot, blooming need originating from the delicious ache that now filled your walls but refused to move. You whined, trying weakly to shift your hips for any amount of friction on his hand, but his hold on you tightened, immobilizing you. 

"Impudence will get you nothing." He uttered warningly, never breaking your stare as his fingers began to pump slowly, agonizingly inside of you. You could feel yourself dripping around him now as the ridged leather of his gloves did something delicious to your walls. "Don't you want to come, little whore?" 

You were putty in his lap. "Yes, Commander, sir." You managed to groan out quietly, embracing the pain that screamed through your scalp. His plump, gorgeous lips were parted slightly, a signal of desire to underlie the tempest of his stare. You relaxed more into his grip, hoping your show of submission would drive him just a little more wild, just a little closer to... Yes.

He yanked you closer and stroked his hot tongue into your mouth in a fucking vulgar kiss that spun your brain like a top. You suppressed a sigh as the taste of him filled you, his plush lips divine and remarkably soft against your mouth as you melted into the heat of his possessive kiss. He jerked you away by your hair long before you'd had your fill of his taste, a thin string of spit connecting you as you squeaked a pathetic sound. Your disappointment was fleeting, though, because his fingers were now curling faster against a heavenly spot inside of you that was beginning to coil you tight. 

"Then be good." 

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, bit down, and nodded as well as you could with his fingers rooted into your follicles. He watched the ecstasy blossom across your face as his thumb began to pass in quick circles over your sensitive clit. A cry fell from your lips as your pleasure began to overtake you, his fingers building you towards a crescendo that threatened to split you clear in half with a galaxy between. You didn't even have to try to keep your mind blank now as he consumed your every nerve ending in rippling pleasure, and soon you were barreling towards the event horizon of climax with every stroke of his digits and every slick pass of leather over your delicate pearl of nerves. Sparks flowed like hot plasma to your extremities as your walls began to flutter tight. You whined the warning of it as your brows drew together in restraint, pleading silently for the commander to send you halfway to hyperspace with the orgasm that teetered in your core. 

"That's right, cum for me, little whore." His voice was harsh and cruel and delicious and everything your reeling brain needed to send you barreling over the precipice. Your orgasm split you, blanching your vision as your walls slammed down around his fingers and you sobbed out the waves of your release. He didn't slow, drawing out your climax to an impossible length as each clench sent you spinning and wailing again. Ren groaned and cursed under his breath as he watched you come apart, leaning on the familiar edge of desperate self control as his stiff cock twitched violently under the confines of his trousers.

He slowed and withdrew his hand from your pants, allowing you to come down with shallow breaths. He brought the hand up to taste you slowly from the glistening leather of his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, and the sight made your insides combust. He hummed a low, appreciative sound before shoving the cum-slicked digits roughly into your mouth. The sweet tang of your juices flooded your senses as he sat you back up against him, such that you faced the viewport again. Impossible as it realistically was, it suddenly felt as if the entire Supremacy may as well have just watched you cum like a trained whore around Kylo Ren's fingers. The thought tickled your belly as you laved your tongue over his glove, still warm from your cunt, your body thrumming with the high of post-orgasmic ecstasy as you diligently cleaned the ridges. Your insatiable pussy clenched hard when you felt his length grind against your ass, reminding you of its presence, and you suddenly ached to be filled again. You whimpered into his hand as you rolled your hips.

"You want my cock?" His voice was ragged in your ear, hardly restrained as he fucked his bulge against you. You nodded with an obscene whine, clutching the sides of his thighs and using them as leverage to grind yourself into his throbbing length. He cursed. 

"Filthy girl."

Ren released you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and hair, and you collapsed back against his chest, panting. He shoved at the waistband of your pants, and with a thrill, you lifted your hips as far as you could to allow him to yank them down around your thighs, panties and all. 

He propped you forward slightly, bringing a hand behind you to wrestle with the clasp of his own trousers. He unleashed his cock and sat you back over it, so that it rested thickly between the flesh of your thighs, flush with the swollen line of your wet slit. You looked down and gulped. Stars, he was big. Not that you expected any different -- you'd be the first to admit that this man carried himself like he was packing. Still, you couldn't suppress a twinge of nerves as you looked down at the fat head of him, swollen beautifully at the end of a thick shaft and leaking a bead of pre cum between your thighs. He rocked his hips up, and the thick, velvety length of his cock parted your lips, coating the top of his shaft in your wetness as it slid against your tender folds.

You whined, your walls screaming to be filled, to be stretched, and you strained your pelvis down towards his dick, but the angle was all wrong for you to have any control. His glove snaked into your hair and fisted it roughly, yanking you immobile again as you gasped. 

"Beg." 

Your pussy throbbed, dignity a distant echo in your brain as you keened and clenched around nothing. You'd never been known to beg for anything in your life, but with the way that every nerve ending in your body felt like it was curling towards him, trying to take root, to feel him in every way possible, you were sure you'd do anything to earn his cock now.

"P-please-" it came out in a whisper, your voice absent from your chest, and he jostled you by your scalp sharply. Pain shot through your nerves, somehow only kindling the flames of need that were licking up your spine and you yelped, the roughness punching your voice back into you.

"I can't fucking hear you." He growled through his teeth, breath crackling in his throat as he fought his own restraint. The sound shot a thrill through you. Oh, you were gone. 

"Ple-ase, s-sir, please f-fuck me," you moaned louder, and your voice sounded foreign through the ring in your ears. Your thighs strained against the hobble of your waistband as your body tried to spread and arch back for him like a bitch in heat. Thoroughly carried away, heady pleas continued to pour from your mouth. "I n-eed your cock in me, Com-commander, please." He huffed a pleased sound, pulling you back until his lips grazed your ear. 

"Good girl."

He released your hair and gripped your hips hard, lifting you up just enough for the head of his cock to slide down towards your entrance. You found yourself pressing your palms eagerly into the seat, pushing yourself up to give your commander better access. You tipped your hips until you felt the swollen head of him perfectly align with your soaked entrance, and-- Oh, fuck.

Even thoroughly lubricated with your own cum, it was a tight fit as he began to sink you down. You whimpered as the angle forced you to take the entirety of him, struggling to relax your tight walls through your descent. You were sure you'd never taken a man nearly this big, sure that your body might break open around him, and yet you were determined to withstand his challenge. He hissed slowly through his teeth as he buried into you inch by steady inch, until you finally sat flush with his lap again, keening from the pleasant sting of complete fullness. 

Ren choked on a stifled groan as you reached the hilt of him, his grip bruising your waist as he held you there for a moment. He shifted you both forward, allowing him to brace you up with his arms, and pumped his hips once slowly to test the position. The feeling of his thick cock sliding tight against your walls until it pressed your cervix was as obscene as it was delicious, and as he buried himself again, you couldn't hold back the wanton moan that tore itself from your diaphragm. 

"Fuck," You heard Ren mutter raggedly behind you as he adjusted his grip. He began to rut his hips up into you at a punishing tempo, and your thoughts evaporated as his cock slammed over and over into the epicenter of your core. You cried out, voice hitching from his pace and ferocity, as you wildly clutched at the side of a control panel for stability. Somehow the pain of taking him over and over began to morph into blinding oblivion, and the viewport swam before your eyes as you lost yourself in the furious rhythm of his cock. 

Ren grabbed your neck and arched you back against his chest, slowing his pace enough to allow shards of air to fight back into your starved lungs. The slower thrusts, the slick feeling of every ridge and vein of him, sent a spike of voltage through your limbs that jump started your senses again. 

"Was I wrong to assume you could handle me, lieutenant?" He purred breathily as he slowed to nearly a stop, though clearly not intending to cease his torment altogether. You whined your dissent and tried to roll your hips down into him, hoping to fuck yourself on his cock, to feebly prove that you could take him. "No?" His voice dripped warm with mockery. "We'll see." 

His grip anchored you fast. You gasped, almost panicking for a moment as a foreign pressure began to flit and squeeze around your clit. It wasn't his hand. One was controlling your neck, the other a vice on your hip. You didn't have much time to register the fact that he was using the Force until his hips were moving again, his cock filling you whole at a steady pace as that strange and wonderful pressure swirled faster at your bud. 

Then suddenly his hand was closing like a leather serpent around your neck, slowly, expertly constricting your pulse. A primal burst of adrenaline blinded you for a moment. He could kill you. It rang between your ears, imploring you to resist, but your body was so pliant, so wholly under the spell of submission, that the thrill melted into something warmer. Something perhaps like trust, but with a much sharper edge as it cut a path through your veins. He squeezed your arteries steadily until your hearing began to fog and inky motes crossed your vision. Pressure swelled in your head, the cockpit beginning to drift away around you until all that grounded you to reality was the steady pumping of the cock inside your cunt and the Force at your clit shooting effervescent waves of pleasure into your darkening brain. 

Just as the cusp of total unconsciousness began to seduce you, the pressure vanished. Ren slammed his length into you, and you gulped a massive breath of air as the Force jetted against your clit. Your orgasm crested hard, and shot you over the edge faster than you'd have ever thought possible as he held you steady and pounded into your core. You screamed as your release tore through your body in a perfect harmonic overtone to the oxygen flooding back into your brain, and the combined relief washed such a powerful bliss through your nerves that in that moment, you felt as if the very fabric of space could part for you.

"That's it, fuck, good fucking girl." Ren’s snarls were filthy and delicious in your ear as he continued to fuck you hard, the pace of his cock refusing to let your body come down from the orgasm. You keened and moaned in an incoherent stupor as he slammed up against a spot inside you that was somehow, impossibly, pushing you towards the edge again already. Another orgasm ripped through you, this one singeing your nerve endings as you felt his thrusts become unsteady. Ren bellowed through gritted teeth as he came, cock pulsing inside you while your quaking walls milked him through his release. He pumped you slowly through your aftershocks, tensing with each clench of your cunt around his oversensitive dick, until your bodies stilled in a tranquil beat of silence and shared breathing.

You didn't know at what point he had wrapped both of his arms around you, but you snapped to the realization that Kylo Ren was now holding you tight, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he came down through shuddering breaths. You blinked, slowly bringing the geometric planes of the viewport back into blurred focus, and then beyond it, the distant Supremacy. 

It hung suspended like a leviathan in the void, a staunch and silent voyeur to the star-shattering sequence of undoing and accretion that you had just experienced here at the hands and cock of your inscrutable commander. You couldn't be totally sure this hadn't all been another dream, but the feeling of him now was so real, so warm, so human in the depth of his breathing and the slight dampness of his skin against yours, that you were sure no version of Kylo Ren you'd ever conjured in your dreams could feel like this. 

You didn't move, didn't dare, but simply felt him encase you, afraid to break whatever spell was holding you in this moment. In a place where maybe, maybe, you could pretend that you weren't just a rank. Or a strategist, or a minuscule pawn in the grander scheme of First Order rule. Here you were a body, yes, but a body that intertwined with something beyond material. Something that laced gently with the threads of humanity behind the frozen carbonite mask of Kylo Ren, which now seemed to thaw for the smallest moment as he held you wrapped in an embrace that could almost be mistaken for tenderness. 

Almost. 

Your high descended on clipped wings as he finally stirred, settling colder in your stomach as he loosened his arms and you waited for whatever would happen now. He was still inside of you, and half-hard at that, but even so, you felt filled to the brim with his cum and stretched tight around him. Your body bemoaned the idea of vacancy, but if time was up, then it was up. You weren't about to push it. You started to move, shifting to lift off of him.

"No. Stay." He murmured against your neck, and you almost questioned whether your brain had shorted out and you'd misheard him. He coaxed you back against his chest with a press of his palm, and you hesitantly allowed the gentleness of it to malleate your rigid spine. Your brain misfired again as you felt the soft brush of his thumb running slowly up and down the contour of your ribs. Your pulse skipped into your throat. You didn't dare allow your body to think that this was anything akin to intimacy. You had been starved of it for so long that if you let it believe so, you might fully lose sight of the fine line you were now walking. And if you fell, it would be straight onto a saber's edge. The vibration of your body fighting against its own tension ricocheted to the walls of your pussy, and as you squeezed him slightly, you felt his cock already beginning to harden again inside you. Your breath hitched. 

Kylo Ren made no acknowledgment of the exchange as he peeled his face from your neck, straightening slightly. He reached his long arms around you to grip the controls of the silencer, but didn't move the craft. He sat still. Contemplative, perhaps. 

You were leaned back against his shoulder, forehead resting just by his jaw, and you dared to let your face tuck gently towards him. You waited for a reaction -- to be pushed away, for some signal that you'd overstepped. But he was still. You cautiously nestled the bridge of your nose against his neck, feeling the steady thrum of pulse there, the soft currents of breath that drifted from his nose down to trickle across your skin. You tried to memorize the warm, masculine scent of him that drifted up from his collar, magnified by body heat, stirred by the gentle tide of his breathing. Oh, how long it had been since you'd had this… 

The oxytocin-riddled valleys of your mind echoed with a sudden and deadly urge to tilt up and press a soft kiss under his jaw, but a harness of fear held you still as you remembered your place, and the fragility of whatever this was. Instead, you squeezed his cock with your warmth again, a flame of lust already flickering against your belly and providing a welcome distraction from the confusion that was drawing and quartering your brain. 

Ren's chest swelled with a soft "mmph" as he seemed to come out of his own trance of thought. You wondered if he'd even been listening to yours at all. He rocked his hips once, the slide of his stiffening cock making your walls leak, and you sighed. Yes. This was fine. This was simple. He pressed his hands forward, beginning to guide the craft towards the twinkling planet in no particular hurry. You gripped his thighs and rolled your hips, squeezing and riding him slowly so as not to break his concentration as he guided you both through the silent expanse of space. 

Yes, it was best just to enjoy the simplicity of this. Of two bodies exorcising your respective tensions through the physical release you could pull from one another. And soon it would be over, and the chaos would resume around you, and you'd carry on like your spirits hadn't just fused like two atoms -- for a microsecond -- within a supernova of passion in the middle of space. And that was fine. That was for the best. 

So you fixed yourself on that tangible goal of physical pleasure, on the rhythm of your hips, on keeping your commander nice and hard and ready for whatever he decided was next. 

Because if you were good enough, then maybe. 

Just maybe. 

You'd earn yourself a second lesson. 

***

Update: Part 2 here.