#other than that. great con! i felt so at home

[holopossums]

Oh btw, my first con (and first furry con) was an absolutely amazing experience! 10/10 would go again 😁💕

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Good Dog.

Pairing: Yandere!SatoSugu x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Pet Play, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Bondage, Revoked Consent, Kidnapping, Manipulation, and Rough Sex. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

About half an hour into your first date, Suguru told you that he was an animal trainer.

He mentioned it offhandedly, filling in a blank you hadn’t thought to ask about, but anything more interesting than ‘financial manager’ or ‘digital entrepreneur’ would’ve caught your attention. “It’s nothing exciting,” he explained, smirking at your eagerness to pry. “Dogs and cats, not lions and tigers. It’s a good gig, if you’ve got the patience for it.”

About three hours later, after a main course, a round of drinks, dessert, a second round of drinks, and your waiter politely clearing his throat as he dropped an unrequested, but well-deserved check onto the corner of your table, Suguru asked if you’d like to come back to his place for a drink. You laughed, propping your chin on your fist. “I don’t know,” you started, a teasing drawl in your voice. “You’re sure you’re not one of those charming serial killers, right?”

His eyes darted to the side, his smile quirking. “…if I said I was, would you still come home with me?”

You were on your feet by the time he finished. “I guess I’ll just have to risk it.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Suguru’s car as he pulled into a sprawling, rustically ornate villa. You fought the urge to whistle as his headlights fell onto outermost facade. You should’ve guessed from the restaurant, but still, you would’ve been impressed by a more-or-less furnished apartment. A countryside mansion was something you hadn’t even known to hope for.

It was only as you pried open your door, one foot already on the ground, that he told you he had a dog.

“You probably won’t meet him,” he shrugged, rounding the hood of the car to your side. An arm was extended and accepted – the gravel driveway quickly proving too much for your pin-prick heels. “Satoru’s a little shy around new people.”

“Satoru,” You repeated, more to yourself than to him. What a strange name for a dog. Must’ve been a purebred. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing your training skills up close.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” He rested a hand on your elbow, squeezing gently. “You’ll get a chance to.”

Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot of blood left in your head to think with, after that.

Your feet had left the ground entirely by the time you reached the porch. Suguru had no problem carrying you, and not having to worry about pesky inconveniences like putting one foot in front of the other meant you had more time to string your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his hair as you divided your attention between his mouth and his throat. You kept yourself occupied, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the latter as he struggled with the lock and stumbled over the threshold. Your back hit a wall before the door was shut, but you were beyond the point of caring, by then.

One of the many things you liked about Suguru was his size. Standing up, he was about a head or so taller than you, and bent over you like this, supporting you with little more than the tension of his body pressed into yours, he seemed to eclipse you entirely; dark hair cutting off your vision, large hands wrapping around your thighs, teeth that were more similar to the fangs of some great, terrible animal than anything human ghosting over the curve of your throat. You felt his chest slot against yours, pinning you against the wall as distracted fingers fumbled with the zipper of your dress, and his head dipped, mouth latching onto the slope of your shoulder in a slow, bruising love-bite. The process was painstaking and noisy, the joint sounds of his breathy moans and your whimpers enough to fill the entryway twice-over. Really, it was a wonder you managed to hear the footsteps at all.

It wasn’t that your attention drifted, just that you couldn’t stop yourself from acting on reflex. You heard padding footsteps, the metal ting, ting, ting of swinging tags, and raised your head, unconsciously searching for a dog, a pet, an animal. And, in a way, you found one. Honestly, it took you a beat too long to realize that what you were looking at wasn’t an animal – lean and pale, peering tentatively around the corner as he made his way down the staircase that led further into the villa. White leather faded into pale skin, crossing over his chest and wrapping around his thighs, supporting a pair of white thigh-high socks and matching paw-shaped mittens. The second worst part was his face; bisected by a titanium muzzle in the shape of a snout. Two white dog ears, the same color as his other accessories, framed his expression on either side, bouncing slightly as he walked.

The absolute worst part was, of course, the erect and leaking cock between his legs.

Suguru must’ve felt you go rigid. With an irritated groan, he pulled away, lowering you gently back onto your feet. He noticed the strange, naked man just as quickly, acknowledging him with a roll of his eyes. You were quickly abandoned in favor of lowering himself to one knee and cupping the naked man’s face, who panted happily in response.

“Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, carding his fingers through the man’s bone-white hair. “I thought you were going to be good and stay upstairs, for now?”

There was a non-verbal response, mostly tail wagging and clipped barks, and you stared blankly at the drooling, leaking man. At Satoru.

You might’ve said something – about a cigarette, or fresh air. You’d never know. You were on the other side of the door before the sound of your own voice could catch you, trudging stiffly to the end of the driveway.

You needed to get out of here. You wanted to get out of here. You kept one arm crossed over your chest while your free hand shot for your phone, a list of a dozen identical rideshare apps already flitting through your mind. You were cursing the lack of available drivers (why hadn’t you noticed how remote this place was earlier?) when you heard gravel crunching under rushed footsteps, Suguru’s airy laugh.

“I know, I know,” he started, while you were still glaring at your phone. “I’m an asshole.”

Colorful language, but not the type you would’ve opted to use, at the moment. “You told me you had a dog.”

“Oh, god, I did, didn’t I?” There was another laugh, a quick shake of his head, like he didn’t fully remember something he’d said all of three minutes ago. “I’m sorry – I just get into character. It’s hard not to, after a few months.”

You didn’t relax, but you didn’t bristle, either. Suguru took the opportunity to go on. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you about anything. I really am a trainer, and this really is my place. Satoru’s my client.”

You paid him a wary glance. “Client?”

“Mhm. CEOs and rich fuckers with a lot of power and a lot of money to throw around like to turn their brain off, every now and then. Since they can’t risk anyone they’ve been seen with going to the tabloids, people like me get brought in to—” He paused, shrugged. “—help them relax, I guess.”

“You expect me to believe that guy’s a CEO?”

His wry grin widened, sharpened. “Have you heard of the Gojo clan?”

Of course you had. The Gojo clan owned half of every business in Japan. The Gojo clan had enough property to build their own continent.. The Gojo clan--

You pursed your lips. Slowly, deliberately, your phone was powered off and slid back into your pocket, any other plans you might’ve had for it immediately forgotten.

“No.”

“Yes.” And then, with a note of pride in his voice, “Satoru’s the scion.”

“And he pays you to…”

“Pretend he’s a dog,” Suguru picked up, unflinchingly. “Or a cat. Or a maid. It’s pretty flexible. The costumes get a little out of hand, sometimes.”

You’d noticed. “And to lure women back to his mansion and… what? Have sex with them while he watches?”

There was another airy laugh, this one less apologetic than the first. “No, no, it’s not like that. Satoru’s not the voyeur type, and I don’t like sharing the spotlight. I let him know I was bringing someone over, but he probably thought it’d be funny to scare you – catch us both off-guard, y’know?” He flashed you a smile. “I promise, you’re here because I want you to be. That’s it.”

It was a little insulting, honestly – just how unfaltering he was. Part of you felt offended, like he’d accused you of overreacting, but another, quieter, more base faction chided you for being over-dramatic, for storming out like a child having a temper-tantrum. Because it had been childish, hadn’t it been? For as much as he’d surprised you, Satoru hadn’t seemed to be under any kind of duress, and it wasn’t like Suguru had fundamentally changed sometime in the past few minutes. Looking at him now, with his easy smile and tired eyes, it was impossible not to recognize the man who’d come up to you in your favorite coffee shop, practically tripping over your name; the man you’d spent nearly four hours talking to tonight, and enjoyed every second of it.

“…’caught off guard’ is kind of an understatement,” you mumbled, letting your shoulders slump.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten he was coming over tonight. I should’ve been more thoughtful.” His shoulders fell. “If you want to call it here, I get it. Just let me grab my keys – I don’t want you in a stranger’s car so late at night.”

It took you a few seconds to find your voice, but when you did respond, it was with a valiant effort to mirror his easy charm. Admittedly, it didn’t come as naturally to you. “And if I don’t want to call it here?”

Suguru seemed to appreciate the effort. “Then I’d ask for a couple minutes to tell Satoru to fuck off,” he started, slowly, his arm finding it way around your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and you let him. “And make sure I’m all yours.”

It was humiliating – how quickly you cracked. As soon as he finished, you sighed, shaking your head. “No, no, you shouldn’t have to do that. I really should apologize to him.” Suguru hummed curiously, and you clarified. “For running out like that, I mean. It might’ve been a little rude.”

Suguru chuckled, kissing your forehead. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

He held your hand as he led you back inside, the door left ajar from your hasty exit. Satoru was waiting in the entryway - still uncomfortable exposed, but sitting cross-legged with Suguru’s jacket draped over his shoulders. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his collarbones or above, just in case.

“’toru,” Suguru called, affection thick and honey-sweet in his tone. Immediately, Satoru perked up, ambling to his feet, and you did your best not to flinch as you noticed his height, his piercing eyes, the sculpted muscle wrapped around his arms and legs. There was no scenario wherein you would’ve been nonplussed to find out your date was engaging with niche, dubiously sexual roleplay with the heir to the largest trust fund on this side of the planet, but having a less imposing image to associate with that realization might’ve helped to soften the edge.

“I want you to meet (Y/n),” he went on, the embodiment of nonchalance. You straightened, and Satoru cocked his head to the side, evaluating you. What he was looking for, you couldn’t imagine. You wished he would take off that muzzle – at least, then, you might be able to find something a little more human in his expression. “And (Y/n),” Suguru paused, nudging your side. “This is my puppy, Satoru. The one I told you about.”

You forced yourself to smile. Satoru stared at you for a long second before bowing his head, and you took the signal – bringing your hand up to pet him the same way Suguru had, watching as he melted into your palm. It was a little too easy to let the last of your anxiety wash away, an odd sort of confidence taking its place. This wasn’t so bad, not when you knew what to expect. Maybe you’d ask Suguru if Satoru had any friends with similar interests and similar numbers in their bank accounts.

“Suguru didn’t mention how pretty you were.” You let your voice lilt up into that light, cloying sort of baby-talk. With the way they were both acting, it was a little hard to remember you weren’t talking to an actual dog. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Careful, now. He’ll get a big head.” He squeezed your hand gently and tugged you towards the staircase. “C’mon – I know where we can get a little privacy.”

Satoru whined, but didn’t attempt to follow you as Suguru guided you up a spiraling set of stairs and into a long, blank hallway. Suguru’s home (Satoru’s home? Their home?) was remarkable unlived in, intentional decoration sparse and the clutter of everyday life entirely absent. It might’ve been off-putting if you’d been able to focus on it, but Suguru seemed eager to distract you, pawing at your waist and stealing kisses every few steps. You counted doors half-heatedly as you passed, and somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three, Suguru pulled one open and ushered you inside.

The bedroom was less non-descript. A king-sized, four-posted bed dominated the space, the sheets a sea of red satin to contrast the black, void walls. The bare necessities were littered sporadically throughout the room – a half-empty glass of water on a bedside table, a white towel hanging from the knob of the closet door, etc. The messiness was almost calculated, things left out on purpose to feign disregard. The only thing that seemed genuinely out of place was the long, braided cord looped around the upper right bedpost, so well-used that it’d ground into and softened the wood underneath. Suguru didn’t seem to notice it, so you decided against saying anything. If you were lucky, it could be useful later on.

It wasn’t like you had much of a chance to talk, anyway. There was a specific sort of fragile, uneasy tension between you and Suguru, and it never seemed to last very long when you two were alone together. The door was shouldered closed hastily, and then, his hands were on your hips, his mouth on the side of your neck. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” And then, with an airy chuckle, a nip to the corner of your jaw, “Thought I was going to have to bend you over in that fucking coffee shop.”

The humiliating part was, had he asked, you probably would have. There was no reason he should have to know that, though. “I’d say to buy my dinner first, but—” His teeth digging into the curve of your throat, a hitch in your breath. You forced out a chirping laugh as he sucked and lapped at your neck. “—I guess you beat me to it, huh?”

Suguru’s only response was a low grown, ten fingers burrowed into your waist. You started to shrug off your jacket, but Suguru was just a little faster, just a little more eager; jerking the article down with one hand while the other wrapped around your midriff. You’d known how big he was, loved the way his body measured up to yours, and yet, you couldn’t seem to suppress the little gasp that escaped your lips as you were pulled off of your feet and thrown onto the center of his bed, to ignore the fear that knotted in your chest as he loomed at the foot of the bed – hastily dragging his shirt over his head. You watched him undress with a lazy type of indulgence, more than happy to sit back and enjoy a free show. Honestly, you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be a part of the entertainment by the time he propped a knee on the mattress and let the full weight of his attention fall onto you.

Against your better judgement, you thought about Satoru as Suguru climbed into the space between your spread legs. You couldn’t seem to imagine how he and Satoru fit together, not that you were very inclined to. It was hard to picture either one of them as very submissive; Satoru with his menacing height and bright, vigilant eyes, or Suguru with his easy smile and feline arrogance. You’d assumed it was a fetish, but you could’ve wrong, right? You’d heard of people who make paperclip chains and chew paper to relieve stress – when you weren’t actively looking at a grown man pretend to be a dog, it really didn’t seem that much stranger.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?”

Suguru’s voice, deep and saccharine, brought you back to the present. You blinked up at him, smiling. “’m right here.”

“Good girl.” Muscular thighs straddled your waist, and you whined, reaching towards him. Suguru only caught your hands in his, intertwining your fingers with his own. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know. You never did tell me if you were a serial killer.”

“And it didn’t stop you from coming home with me.” He squeezed gently. “Which means you do trust me – whether or not you should.”

You hummed, and that was all the confirmation he needed. Your wrists were gathered in one hand while the other reached for the black cord – not as forgotten as you’d thought. Suguru worked quickly, but deftly. A snug slip-knot soon bound your wrists above your head, and you fought the temptation to test the binding’s strength and ruin the moment. It felt slack enough, and more importantly, Suguru was already shifting, moving, gliding a hand down the length of your throat, your chest, before finally cupping your breast, groping harshly.

Unable to do much of anything else, you arched into his touch, earning a breath of a laugh from Suguru. Dark hair veiled his face as he dipped his head, lips sealing around the bud of your nipple. It seemed to be less for your pleasure and more for his entertainment – the way he sucked with such a deliberate amount of force, how slowly he drew the flat of his tongue over your skin, the feather-slight pressure of his teeth against tender flesh. The stimulation was thick and aching, simmering where it should’ve sparked. You might’ve complained if his hand hadn’t wandered to your sex, two think fingers tracing over your slit and gathering the slick that’d been building up since he invited back to his place. Calling you ‘wet’ would’ve been the understatement of the century – you were soaked. Suguru seemed to know that, too.

He lifted his head, grinning as he pulled you into a deep kiss. By the time he drew back, your lungs throbbed in your chest and he’d been reduced to muttering. “And here I was, so scared that you’d try to run away.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, drawing out a moan muffled only by his proximity. “No, you were never going to leave before you got what you came for, were you?”

You shook your head, bucking into his hand, but Suguru only clicked his tongue. There was another open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your neck (his favorite spot, it seemed), then another the tender flesh just above your collarbone. “You have to tell me what you want, baby. Nicely.”

Two fingers slipped under your panties and into your tight heat, scissoring apart as you moaned and squirmed underneath him. “Please,” you managed, your voice reduced to a pitchy, wavering drawl. “Please, please fuck me, Suguru.”

“That’s my girl.” You felt his fingers curl inside of you and protested with a mewling whine. When Suguru did draw back, it was only to bring his palm down on your cunt in an open-handed spank that left your skin burning and sparks racing straight to your core. You swallowed down any lingering complaints as he fucked you open on three thick digits, focusing the brunt of his energy on thrusting into you with as much depth and as much force as possible with the occasional curl or split of his fingers, whenever you threatened to adjust to his erratic rhythm. Making you cum was a secondary goal; something to be considered, but not planned around. Judging by his brutal pace, the way his dark eyes stayed fixed on your expression, he was more interested in seeing just how long it took to take you apart.

It was a shame you couldn’t hold on longer, really. Suguru might’ve been patience incarnate, but you’d never had that level of self-control. It took less than a minute of his calloused fingers rubbing against the seizing walls of your cunt, of his palm grinding sloppily into your clit before you were clawing at the cord around your wrists, clenching your eyes shut, snapping your thighs together around his forearm as you came undone from seconds of his harsh stimulation. Of course, Suguru nursed you through your climax and of course, he waited until you were coherent enough to hear the humiliatingly wet noise of your cunt clenching around his digits as he drew back. Your reward came in the form of a moment to breathe, a lingering kiss pressed into the inside of your knee as he lowered himself into the space between your legs. His remaining clothes were dealt with hastily – pulled out of the way where they couldn’t be easily discarded – and before long, you felt the blunt tip of his cock tracing over your entrance, his arousal mixing with the aftermath of your climax. Beyond the use of words, you did your best to grind against him and pulled at your restraints, putting up a laughable imitation of a struggle. The corner of Suguru’s lips turned upward. With one hand wrapped around his base and the other planted on your hip, he eased into you, fitting his body against yours until he’d bottomed out.

Immediately, it was too much.

Suguru caught on quickly, too. “This is what you asked for.” Four fingers rapped against your side as he started to move, limiting himself to short, shallow thrusts. You clenched your eyes shut, digging your nails into your palms and muttering distant, abstract curses between moans. Suguru let out a pitying hum. “You’re not allowed to change your mind now, princess. Not after begging so prettily.”

As if you could. As if you’d have any reason to. It felt like he was trying to fuck your throat through your pussy; his hips grating against yours as he pulled out to the tip only to rut back in. It was less the friction that got to you and more the pressure – filling you entirely, battering against your walls, weighing down your body where it was pinned under his. His hands hooked the underside of your thighs and hauled your legs upward, pressing your knees closer to your chest than the mattress. The stretch was incredible, nearly enough to break you. It took everything you had just to open your eyes and stare blissfully at Suguru, his dark hair dripping over his face and pooling around his shoulders, his eyes narrowed into clever, condescending slits. You could see a smirk shining through his slack-lipped groaning, and over his shoulder, something white bobbed—

Something white.

Satoru.

Against your will, your attention slipped away from Suguru and onto him. You could only make out his upper body, but even that was more than you wanted to see. The bedroom door had been nudged open, and Satoru leaned against the frame, head cocked to the side and glassy blue eyes fixed on the bed. One of his arms was angled strangely, reaching for something below his navel, and you swore, even with the sound of Suguru’s skin crashing into yours, you could hear him panting. You’d assume that the muzzle would’ve done more to muffle it, but guess not.

You didn’t say anything, but the horror written across your expression was obvious. Suguru slowed, then stopped entirely, scowling as he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. His reaction was reserved, minimal. A sigh of a scoff, a slight shake of his head. You waited for him to get angry, to tell Satoru to leave, or better yet, to panic, to throw a sheet over your body and do anything but let his pervert of an employer keep jerking off to your exposed, vulnerable form. Instead, he only straightened, pulling to the side as if to show that much more of you off. “Your turn already, puppy?”

Satoru didn’t nod, didn’t respond, and Suguru didn’t wait for him to. Whatever mutual understanding they had between them didn’t need to be spoken aloud; it was enough for Satoru to step forward and Suguru, half-swallowing a moan, to pull out of your cunt. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, your point of connection having abruptly gone cold.

That relief was quickly replaced by stiff, frigid dread as Satoru shuffled forward, into your direct line of sight. Most of his get-up had been abandoned, leaving only his ears, pawed gloves, and of course, that terrible muzzle. Somehow, the subtractions seemed to make him less human – like he’d gone from a man pretending to be a dog to a dog pretending to be a man. Suguru didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. There was one more squeeze to your thigh, and then Satoru was pulling himself to the headboard, positioning himself beside you. Unceremoniously, you were turned onto your stomach, your bound wrists positioned awkwardly above your head and your elbow prodding into the mattress. Your ass was dragged upward, your knees forced underneath you. Unsure of whether trying to kick out would salvage what was left of your remaining dignity or humiliate you further, you held the position.

This time, the way you jerked and thrashed against your restraints wasn’t playful. The knot had been loose enough to slip a few minutes ago, but as soon as you exerted any real amount of force, it seemed to constrict; soft rope digging into your wrists, cutting off your circulation. You felt the mattress dip behind you, heard Satoru’s rhythmic panting through the metal of his mask. Desperately, you looked to Suguru.

“R-red,” you stammered, hoping the edge in your voice would make up for the lack of an established safe-word. “Black. Pineapple. Stop. I’m not good with this, Suguru.”

Satoru’s knees on either side of yours, the dull head of drooling cock against your ass. You felt Satoru’s tip drag over the curve of your ass, streaking your skin with arousal. Suguru hummed. “But, you’ll grin and bear it, won’t you? ‘toru’s been looking forward to this all day.”

It was awful, how little his tone had changed. If it hadn’t been for the spare man now looming over you, the terror forming knots in your chest, you would’ve thought he was still making mindless dirty talk.

“I never—” Your voice caught in your throat as Satoru whined, needy and keening. Animalistic. “I don’t want to do this.”

His attention flitted between you and Satoru, never quite landing on either. “You’ll come around,” he decided, eventually. “Just like Satoru did.”

Something cold and stiff stabbed into the center of your back. At first, you wondered if that was what fear – true fear – always felt like, made more vivid by tangible betrayal and the sudden awareness of your own stupidity, but then, you realized it was only the lower edge of Satoru’s muzzle digging into your skin as he laid himself over you, and that made more sense.

Satoru was not like his owner. Suguru hadn’t been gentle, but Satoru seemed to operate on something deeper, something baser, something that didn’t give him time to breathe between forcing his cock into your sensitive cunt and his first thrust. Actually, calling it a thrust at all might’ve been too generous – he never seemed to want to pull away from you, only rut deeper, only grinding against your ass as he moaned and whined and drooled against your neck. Eventually, his chest pressed into your back, his head falling over your shoulder. You tried not to look at him, to disassociate where you couldn’t physically separate, but it would’ve been impossible to block out the way his prying eyes seared into your skin. “So pretty.” The metal distorted the exact shape of his tone, but something cloying made it through the fog. “Been waiting forever for Suguru to pick. Knew it had to be you, though. It was always gonna be you.”

You didn’t respond, but Suguru did – laughing brightly. While Satoru did his best to beat your pussy into the shape of his cock, Suguru swung his legs off the side of the bed, turning away from you as he fetched something out of the nearest bedside table. “I’m sorry,” he said, straightening back up. “I knew Satoru needed someone to keep him company while I was away, but I couldn’t bring home just any stray – he’d tear them to pieces. You were perfect, but holding ‘toru off for the months it took to prepare…” He trailed off, smiling fondly. “He’s overeager at the best of times. You can imagine what it was like – trying to tell him he had to wait to meet his kitten.”

He was lying. He was lying and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. You hadn’t known Suguru for months, you’d known him for days. There’d been a meet-cute and everything – you’d stayed at your favorite café for an hour longer than you could really afford to just to catch his eye, and he’d stuttered the first time he’d said your---

Your name.

He’d known your name.

The stabbing sensation was back. You didn’t think it was Satoru, this time.

You opened your mouth – maybe to sob, maybe to scream – but all that came out was a fractured, airy squeak. Satoru’s dick twitched inside of you, and suddenly, you were aware of just how erratic his pace had grown, just how stifling the heat rolling off of him had gotten. You clenched your eyes shut a moment before it happened, keeping them that way as something too terrible to name was pumped into you in hot, smoldering strokes. When the last spark of his climax faded, Satoru went limp against you, cuddling into your back, but Suguru was quick to chide him with a click of his tongue.

“Bad puppy.” You saw him reach for Satoru’s head, hear something metallic and taut click out of place. “Clean up your mess. Then, we’ll have you meet your kitten properly.”

Satoru grumbled, but didn’t disobey. Dragging your unresponsive body onto its side, he nestled his head between your thighs and dragged the flat of his tongue over your slit, lapping up the remnants just beginning to drip down your thighs with a tired sort of enthusiasm. Suguru shook his head wistfully. “He can be such a brat, but he means well. Ah – can you pick your head up for me, baby?”

When you failed to so much as try, Suguru cooed. “I guess you wouldn’t be.” And then, cupping your cheek, “You’re going to be a delicate little thing, aren’t you?”

“…I’m not a thing,” you spat, but it didn’t matter. He was already fitting something onto your head – a headband, the weight balanced by two off-set ears near the rounded peak. The collar was next, heavy and decorated with bows and ribbons that scratched at your throat. You were struck with the inexplicable and irresistible urge to try to claw it off, but your bound hands saved you from the humiliation.

It took you a few seconds to put a name to the last item. Made of a pale pink leather, it had an odd shape – like a cup someone had accidently made wider than it was tall. Studded straps stretched from each corner of the opening, and Suguru’s hand fell away from your cheek as he fitted it to your lower face, The upper strap was pulled tight, then the lower, until the leather pressed snugly into your skin. You started to open your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

You should never have bothered to wonder. There was only ever one thing it could possibly be.

A muzzle.

[justwonder113]

Sharing a bed with Changbin

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: What happens when Changbin comes to pick you up after a night out with your friends.

Warning: Chaos just pure Chaos. Cursing as always; Reader is a female; Both reader and Changbin are dummies. Literally idiots in love; Mentions of drinking, reader is a bit tipsy at the start. mentions of kissing. NOT PROOFREAD. Please tell me if I miss anything.

A/N- Heya babies I'm back! I really hope you'll like this, I really had fun writing this so I hope you will enjoy it. If you have any request of just thoughts to share please feel free to do so. Also if you want to be added to the taglist either comment or massage or even send an ask.

Word count- 3.5k

Sometimes drinking alcohol and getting drunk with your best friends was all that you needed to unwind after a hard week of working your ass off. However, as much as you loved feeling this light, carefree, relaxed and let’s just simply say euphoric, alcohol intake also had its cons. For example, this lightness and relaxation came with the price of being unable to stand straight on your legs and your crush looking way more yummy than usual.

You weren’t really planning to go out. After a day you had at work all you felt like was to go home, take a warm bath and snuggle in bed with some good movie playing on the background. Your best friend came up with the idea to go clubbing and getting some overpriced but tasty drinks. You were reluctant at first but after thinking things over you decided to go. And it was great! You had time of your life and it was just what you needed to fully relax and wash off the stress of your daily life. The only problem now was that you had a bit too much to drink and could barely stand on your legs and you felt really dizzy. Also watching Changbin help your friend (who was also wasted if not more than you) get to her door, and mind you he got every one of your friends to their houses because it was really late and he didn’t want them to go with cabs in the middle of the night while in this vulnerable state. You had to call mama Seo and thank her for raising such a gentleman!

Okay maybe you were a bit biased, It wasn’t a secret your feelings for Changbin had been more than platonic. You two had known each other for quite a while. You didn’t know when it started but you two had been flirting around with each other since forever but neither one of you made that final move to make things official. So here you were stuck in the middle ground, where you couldn’t really be called just friends but you weren’t dating each other either.

Of course you would be more than happy to get out of that situation. At least you would try and move on from him if he didn’t want to date and make things official. You just weren’t sure how you should make the first move, you always kind of expected he would be the first one to ask you out.

You were startled out of your thoughts when you heard Changbin return in the car, you couldn’t help but smile as you took in his disheveled hair and rosy cheeks from the cold.

“Are you sleepy baby?” – He asked as he noticed your dazed eyes.

“Yea, but I can’t sleep. I shouldn’t.” You sighed out as you watched him start the car.

“Why is that bubz?” He looked at you for a second before shifting his gaze to the road.

“If I close my eyes I can not look at your pretty face!” You made sure to whine as dramatically as possible. Changbin let out one of his notorious cackles.

“God that was so cheesy!”-He wheezed out after a few seconds of laughing like he had been possessed with a spirit of an ancient witch.

You grabbed your own cheeks making sure to smush them together just enough, blinked at him all cutely and continued to tease him like the sweetheart you were. “Shut up you love me.”

“I do.” Wow how the tables turn he just admitted it like it was the most common fact ever. Grass is green, sky is blue and apparently Seo Changbin is in love with you.

“Wait really?” You really couldn’t believe your own ears.

“Yeah of course.” Again, he was so incredibly casual about it! Oh no you couldn’t let it slide.

“Why aren’t you asking me out to date then?” There it was, there was no return now.

Changbin not only snapped his head so fast that there might have been a possibility that he could’ve broken his neck, but he also stopped his car so aburtly you had to thank god there was no one behind you.

“What do you mean ask you out?” Wow was it so horrible to even imagine it? You thought you two had a thing. Were you wrong?

“Oh my god have I been misreading the situation the whole time? This is so embarrassing. I am so sorry…”

It was his turn to panic now, which made you feel a bit relieved, because you felt like you were losing your shit! “No no it’s not that I promise!”

“When what is?” You couldn’t hide your desperation now. Maybe you could blame it on alcohol later and hope to move on?

“I thought we were dating?”

…

A blink.

Another blink.

“Changbin what the fuck? How the fuck did you believe we were dating?” You were full on yelling now because what the fuck did he mean he thought you two were dating! Since fucking when?

“I don’t know! I just did! We already act like a couple so what’s the big deal? Wait you don’t like me?” Forget all the sappy shit, you felt like strangling him.

“I do but…” God how did you manage to get yourself in this fucking situation? “God this is giving me such a headache.”

Changbin looked just as lost and even guilty. “I’m sorry. But I genuinely thought we were dating.”

“Since when?” You had to get in the bottom of this, or else your head was going to explode.

“I don’t know, like Han’s birthday party? You remember when you kissed me?” He tried to reason but the new knowledge almost made you choke on your own spit. God was really laughing at you.

“I fucking did WHAT?”

“YOU DON’T REMEMBER?” Changbin full on screamed in shock. Really what did you do to deserve this?

“NO!” You screamed back, and with it went last drops of alcohol remaining in your body and your sanity. Ain’t no way you could return to being normal after this.

“I mean I knew that you drank a little that day but damn! You don’t remember kissing me?” Changbin had his face in his hands, the car still ignited just casually standing in the middle of the road. Thank god there was no one around.

“Fuck me I gotta stop drinking. No I don’t remember kissing you.” Honestly nothing seemed more tempting right now than crying your eyes out at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Unbelievable.” Your heart clenched at Changbin’s sulky and sad voice. You were furious at yourself for not remembering kissing this cinnamon roll.

“I’m sorry. What happened? Tell me a full story.” You pleaded as if hearing the full story would magically return your memories and make the situation any better.

“I don’t know, I walked you home, we were about to say goodbye and you kissed me. I thought that you were drunk but you confessed that you liked me and it seemed so sincere, and we’ve been flirting for ages! How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t remember anything?”

“This is so unfair! You are telling me I have been literally dreaming about how would kissing you be like and in reality I have already done it?” Talk about unfair!

A biggest smile broke on his face and his whole mood shifter 180. “Aww baby you’ve been dreaming about kissing me?”

You really felt like pulling your own hair out now.  How was he so calm all of a sudden? “Binnie, baby, respectfully shut the fuck up.”

“But you like me!” He looked so giddy now, what a precious dummy. You really felt like shutting him up with a fat smooch on his lips. You had to pull yourself together.

“Bin you had been convinced we had been dating I don’t know for how many months now. I had you THAT convinced. Of course I fucking like you.”

“Aww you said it again that you like me!”

“I swear to god Seo!” Changbin gasped like he had been slapped making you also flinch in shock.

“Not the last name! I liked it better when you called me Binnie and baby and love and all the sweet stuff.” Was he serious right now? A smile broke out on your face against your will, he was so cute.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay I won’t call you by your last name.”

“Also not the first name. I’m Binnie to you!” To make his point he even crossed his arms, his lips all pouty and cheeks all fluffy.

“Okay Binnie.” You held in your pinky as a promise, he immediately linked it with his feeling satisfied.

 You two sat in silence for a few seconds, thankfully he started to drive again. “So like what do we do now?” He broke the silence looking at you with confused eyes.

“I don’t know Bin, let me think for a sec?”

“But” - He tried to protest but you didn’t let him.

“Please baby?”  You gave him the best puppy eyes ever, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to resist. You just needed a second.

“That’s not fair, You know I can’t say no when you ask me like that!”

The ride to the home was quiet, with the only problem arising when you were in front of your house.

“Bin I Think we have a problem.” You sighed feeling way too drained to care about this new problem.

“Wait what? Why?” You cured yourself for making him feel anxious, you quickly leaned in and grabbed his hands.

“Calm down baby.” You tried to reassure.

“What is it?”

“I just can’t find my keys.” You admitted bashfully.

“Are you kidding? Did you lose them somewhere?”

“No. I gave it to my friend when we left the house, she just found it in her purse she just texted me.”

“Oh thank god I thought we had to change the locks. Do you want me to go back to her apartment?” Really who was this cute and adorable? This was so unfair for your heart.

“What? No, it would be such an inconvenience. I mean we can go at your house?” You already felt like a hassle you didn’t want to tire him more, It was really late too.

“My house?” Changbin sounded genuinely so surprised you thought you said something wrong for a second. Changbin returned to normal in a second. “I mean it’s not a problem but like our sofa broke, turns out you can’t just like wrestle for the better controller or something like that. Okay what am I even saying you can take my room, me and Hyunjin had shared a bed so many times anyways.”

“It’s fine tho.” Your voice was quiet almost like a whisper.

“What is?” You looked at his face, he looked genuinely confused. You rolled your eyes, he really couldn’t take a hint sometimes.

“I meant that we can share a bed.” You tried your best to sound as cool and as casual as possible even though your heart felt like bursting.

“We can do what now?” he really looked like he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“I mean apparently we had been dating for months now.”

“Hey don’t tease!”

“I gotta do something! My head feels like exploding! We managed to get ourselves in quite a situation right here!” You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Anyway what I’m saying is that I’m completely fine sharing a bed with you. We’ve established that we like each other so I don’t see the problem here.”

“That’s what I thought the first time too! What if you forget again! What if you wake up in the morning not remembering anything and you’re just there in my bed with me in it! You’ll think I’m some sort of pervert and that I took advantage of you when you were drunk!” There he was being all dramatic and huffy all again.

“I’m not drunk!” Who would be drunk after this?

“You were a few minutes ago!” He had a a point but now you felt more sober than you were before you started drinking.

“Well not anymore! How can I be drunk after all that? And I was just tipsy! I was just fine! You were the one worried and insisting that you come and take me home! For which I love you and appreciate you but still!”

Changbin crossed his arms. “I’m still not sure.”

“What you want me to do a video proof that I fully consent to this?”

Changbin glared at you but then smirked suddenly looking smug. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea!”

“God you’re so petty sometimes.” Two could play the petty game, you took out your phone and pressed the record button. “Hello future me! It is exactly half past thee in the morning and I’m sitting in the car with Changbin who is driving me to his home. This is a reminder to you in case that I forget in the morning that I fully concent to sharing a same bed with Seo Changbin. And to avoid any further miscommunication I will say in this video that I like him like a lot and appartenly he does return the feelings. However if when we get there he doesn’t kiss me I will end this either month long or minute long relationship right then and there!”

It was his time to roll his eyes now, but he clearly looked amused by all this. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m warning you Seo!” Ain’t no way you wouldn’t get your kiss now that you two were aware of each other’s emotions. No way in hell would count the one you didn’t even remember as your first kiss with him.

“Whatever my love shall request my love shall get!”

***

The ride to his house was quick which was great you were dying to take off your shoes. Whoever invented high heels deserved to burn in hell. Thank god Binnie came to pick you up.

Speaking of which, being the perfect gentleman he is, he immediately got out of the car, ran to your side all cutely and opened your door for you, holding in his hand for you to take. You obviously took it, appreciating the kind gesture and also support because your legs really were hurting like a bitch.

Changbin helped you get out of the car, he even closed the door for you. You were about to thank him but something stopped you Something in his eyes.

You weren’t even able to question anything, before you even knew it, he wrapped his arm around your waist brought you close to his body and in mere second his lips were on yours.

The kiss was firm but also full of love, he kissed you as he was afraid to let you go. His lips were so soft and warm and his body… It was so firm and strong and warm. No wonder you felt so safe and loved whenever you were with him, You couldn’t help but cling to him as you tried to return the kiss with the same vigor. Both of your arms tightly wrapping around his broad shoulders.

Your whole body felt like it was melting, you were sure you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight if it wasn’t him holding you so firmly. How was he even so good at kissing? His kisses felt like a drug and you were getting addicted by the second.

After a while he leaned back and you couldn’t help but actually whine, god what was he doing to you? Seeing you chase his lips made the biggest smile break out on his face. God He looked so beautiful with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, his lips all pretty and pink. Changbin leaned in and gave you few short pecks.

After he felt satisfied with the amount of kisses he gave you he decided to just randomly sweep you off your feet, quite literaly. One second you were somewhat steady on the ground the next you were in the air desperately clinging onto Changbin confused out of your mind.

“What are you doing?” – You managed to huff out giggling at his cute antics.

“You’re feet are hurting.” He said it like a matter of fact.

“I mean yes, but are you going to carry me until we get to your house?”

“Why not?” Again so casual, like holding you and walking up to his house which wasn’t that near wasn’t a big deal.

“Binnie I’m heavy!” You tried to protest, even squirmed a little but to no avail.

“Not really, no.”

“Binnie it isn’t worth it, I’m really heavy.”

“What’s the point of working out if I can’t even carry my girl!” Wow your heart must have done a literal backflip because what the fuck was that movement in your chest?

“I’m your girl?” You didn’t even try to hide the lovesick expression that overtook your face.

Changbin glanced at you for a second, then leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose- “Of course you’re my girl.” So not mindful of your poor heart amusement clear on his face clearly enjoying your flustered state. He continued walking as it was nothing, like holding you was same as holding couple of grapes. He only stopped when you two were in front of his house.

“Can you ring the bell?” He asked with the cutest smile ever, how in your right mind could you say no? You rang the bell then it hit you, the situation you were in. You quickly covered your face as if Changbin wasn’t holding you like you were main dish on a platter. The cackle Changbin let out seeing your antics almost woke up the whole building.

Hyunjin opened up the door after a few seconds, clearly he just rolled out of bed. You felt bad for possibly waking him up. He looked at you two with unamused eyes, Changbin still proudly holding you refusing to let you down, and you looking through your fingers clearly shy.

“Huh so my wife is cheating on me with my friend.”

“Uh pretty much? You’re still number one in my heart you know that.” Changbin answered proudly.

“Hey hyun!” You greeted him shyly after you made sure to smack Changbin’s shoulder.

"Hey! Took you two long enough to get together tho.” Hyunjin deadpanned as he let you two in, Changbin finally letting you down on the armchair.

“Oh let me tell you a juicy story then!” You smiled mischievously completely ignoring Changbin’s protests.

After telling Hyunjin everything and him making fun of you two, mostly Changbin, you decided to get ready for bed. Honestly they would be lucky if the neighbors didn’t call the cops on them, they were so damn loud!

Anyway here you were now, laying on one side of the bed all snug in Changbin’s clothes as Changbin laid stiffly on the other. Honestly, he looked like he would fall of the bed any second now.

“Bin you’re about to fall off the bed!”

“I’m fine.” God even his voice was stiff.

“Bin you literally took my breath away the way you were kissing me earlier what happened now?”

“I don’t think I should get any more close.” He grumbled out after a few seconds of silence.

“Why is that?”

Changbin scoffed like he was baffled how you weren’t understanding what was wrong. “You’ll think badly of me!” Again grumbling inaudibly.

“I promise I won’t.” You tried to reassure him, even held in your pinky finger which he begrudgingly took.

“It’s just you’re here in my bed, in my clothes, looking absolutely beautiful and we were kissing and you look so kissable right now… How am I supposed to control myself?” This boy was going to be the death of you. Who the hell was this cute and adorable and so kissable on a random Tuesday night!

“Then don’t.”

“Baby I swear to god!” Changbin covered his face and almost fell out of the bed, thankfully you managed to drag him to the center of bed just in time. Also this gave you a perfect opportunity. You wrapped your hands around him and hugged him tight, Changbin immediately uncovered his face to wrap his arms around you and hug you back.

“I like you a lot bin.” You mused and leaned in to softly peck his lips, Changbin almost immediately melted into your arms.

“I like you a lot too.” He muttered before bringing you closer to seal your lips in a longer more passionate kiss.

“We’re really really dating now so don’t you start getting shy on me okay?” You couldn’t help but tease.

Changbin groaned at the teasing clearly not amused. “Brat!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you got more comfortable getting ready to get one of the best sleeps of your life.

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[yanderegarden]

Love 100mg Warning: May be addictive

Katsuki Bakugo

Student! Katsuki Bakugo x Addict! Darling

TW: yandere-themes, non-con/dub-con ideations, profanity, kidnapping, emotional, verbal, & physical abuse, implied drug-use & addiction, withdrawal symptoms, violence, blood, forced confinement. Fem reader

Tip-Jar

You and Bakugo grew up in the same town, on the same street, and attended the same schools, yet barely exchanged anything more than a simple glance in the hallways.

Growing up, you can recall briefly watching him from the entry hall window of your home, admiring his confidence even as a child. His belief that he was capable of anything could be felt even from houses away.

Your parents kept you sheltered as a child. You had the urge to go and play with the other kids, but knowing there wasn’t much you could do, you were content staying inside.

Developing a passion for your studies at a young age, you became fascinated with your courses. Excelling in middle school, you were one of the top students.

It wasn’t until one year in middle school that you were formally introduced to Bakugo—when you both tied for first place in the science fair. You had envisioned Bakugo as someone who was confident, strong-willed, and kind...

Little did you know, his jealousy of being at the top was paired with the will to be the only one there. You felt an uneasy feeling standing next to him as you both had your picture taken by the school newspaper, holding a trophy together. You won’t forget how you tried congratulating him, saying, "I don’t know how they expected us to share this medal," attempting to lighten the mood. But he simply replied, "Keep the stupid medal. It'll probably be the last one you get." From that moment on, you steered clear of Bakugo.

No longer did you have long, pondering stares at him from your bedroom window, fantasizing about what he was like or how he treated his friends. Instead, you chose to focus on yourself, your studies, and your life. When graduation day came, you applied to the public high schools in the area. Considering the reaction you had faced when Bakugo declared he'd be the only one attending UA High, you decided to stay away. You had seen the way he treated Midoriya and chose not to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Why take the risk? you asked yourself

It wasn't until your parents told you that a mutual hero friend of theirs had extended a letter of recommendation for UA High’s General Studies course and applied on your behalf.

The school welcomed your application, considering that a pro hero had recommended you for your intelligence.

You told your parents it wasn’t a great idea—that it would be expensive, that you didn’t want to place that financial burden on them, that you’d rather stay closer to home and your friends. What you didn’t disclose was that you’d rather not be anywhere near Bakugo.

They dismissed your concerns, insisting you didn’t know what you were talking about. You should be excited that a hero recommended you—it would be rude to disrespect a hero like that, they said. Do you think you know better? Eventually, they bullied you into agreeing.

And so, there you were, ready to join Class 1-C.

"This won’t be so bad?" you muttered under your breath, using the palms of your hands to flatten your uniform’s skirt and straighten your tie. You adjusted the strap of your school bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and forced a smile on your face—whether it was genuine or not.

The first year went by fast, and you were already in the middle of your second year, but you were drowning. Overwhelmed by your parents pressure to do well in your studies, and struggling because you still hadn't made any close friends—if any at all. You began to feel more sensitive to teachers' criticism. Riddled with anxiety whenever you saw Bakugo in the hallways, even though he barely paid you any attention.

That’s when you started sneaking out of the dorms at night.

Was it because of loneliness? Boredom? The crushing weight of responsibilities and missed, late schoolwork? You didn’t know.

But you knew that, out there, you could finally breathe.

A deep inhale of fresh air. The darkness and coolness of the night surrounding you. No thoughts—just the sound of the world asleep, the occasional car passing by.

It became a habit. Slipping out for a few hours. At first, you stayed on campus, walking the grounds, avoiding security. You had a spot near the forest where you would simply lie down and watch the stars. Then, you started venturing into the town surrounding UA.

You were surprised by how different it was at night. During the day, it was just another city. But at night? The streets were alive—vivid lights, bustling crowds, music, laughter, the smell of street food wafting through the air. You felt like an outsider at UA high, but it was different when you went out at night. At first, you were nervous to explore. You stuck to familiar places close to school, opting to visit a ramen shop, and after a warm meal, your belly full, your eyelids grew heavy. You began to get ready to leave, until a young man—who looked about your age—smiled at you. You glanced down, blushing. He approached the table. "Hello," he greeted. You hesitated but nodded. "You can sit next to me if you’d like."

You talked. What felt like minutes turned into an hour. He never ordered anything, but eventually, he asked if you’d like to walk around town. You agreed. He was polite. A gentleman, you thought. Opening doors for you, holding your bag, eventually—your hand.

You felt flattered. Someone was finally paying attention to you.

Your quiet, shy demeanor often came off as rude to others, but in reality, being sheltered for so long had made you excel academically but fail socially. So when a cute boy your age showed interest, you felt a warmth in your chest.

He bought you tea. Took you to a park. The two of you sat on a bench, watching the koi fish in a pond. Then, you looked up and caught him staring at you. His face instantly flushed, sheepishly laughed and quickly looked away. You giggled. Finally, he asked, "So, what’re you doing out here so late? A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be out here on the mean streets all alone," he joked.

You laughed, explaining how you felt like you couldn’t breathe inside the dorms, how you were stressed from loneliness, overwhelmed by homework. You rambled, spilling your guts to a stranger.

But he let you.

You apologized for talking so much, but he simply shook his head.

"No need to apologize. I understand. I was going to a high school around here, but I eventually dropped out. My parents kicked me out, and now I live in an apartment down here."

You frowned. "Hmm… I’m sorry."

"I'm alright. I'd rather live on my own than have my parents nagging me every day. Better this way," he said. You agreed, somewhat relating to his situation. "Especially since I can do this all I want now." He pulled out what looked like a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag. "Oh shit, sorry. Did you want some?" he asked while letting out a cough. You shook your head. "Oh no, thank you. What even is it?" He smirked. "Weed." You gave him a confused look. "Devil's lettuce?" he teased. "Cannabis?" You laughed, turning red, embarrassed by your own naivety. You had heard of it, of course, but you had never seen or smelled it before.

Suddenly, you were fascinated. "What does it do?" you asked curiously. He smiled. "C'mere."

You leaned in, and so did he—until his lips pressed against yours. You kissed him back, only to feel smoke filling your lungs. You coughed, your eyes widening. Then, out of nowhere, an overwhelming urge to laugh took over you, so you did. And so did he.

That night was the beginning.

Sneaking out to meet him, to smoke, to escape—it became a habit. A few weeks passed, and then he introduced you to alcohol. Then, other substances.

You started spending nights at his apartment.

You felt guilty, knowing your parents and teachers would disapprove of this behavior. But you didn’t care.

The stress, the loneliness, the weight of expectations—it all disappeared when you were with him, when you were using. You began to love being high.

You barely made it through your second year with passing grades. You were forced to take summer classes. Eventually, the school had to intervene. A meeting was called with your parents, the principal, and the vice principal. They listed everything—your grades, your frequent absences, your improper dresscode.

"We’re so very sorry for our daughter. Please excuse her shameful behavior. We have failed as parents, but we will do our best to get her back on the right path," your parents exclaimed, bowing their heads in shame.

You sat there, numb. Unmoved. It wasn’t until after the meeting that your parents let loose, yelling at you for what felt like hours. You tried to find your passion for studying again, but the truth was, your real passion had become the feeling of being inebriated.

Eventually, you learned how to balance doing the bare minimum in school while still getting high your last year. You started sneaking your friend into the dorms, buying drugs from him, getting high in your room.

"Wow, this school is for rich kids, huh? You never told me you went to a rich kid school. Are you rich?" he asked, looking around with amusement. You laughed at his dorky demeanor. "No, I’m not. My stupid parents made me go here on a scholarship. I hate it." He chuckled, and you sighed. That night, you showed him around campus, wandering the grounds.

Eventually, you stopped by a vending machine, digging into your pocket for some change. Then, you heard footsteps. You turned quickly, covering his mouth with your hand. "Be quiet," you mouthed, bringing a finger to your lips.

His eyes widened.

You could tell—he was scared. Scared to be caught, to be punished. Arrested... again. Then, just like that, your oh-so-reliable friend chose to run. You slapped your forehead and groaned loudly. The footsteps were getting closer. Panic set in. You crouched down, pressing yourself against the vending machine side, hoping—praying—that whoever was approaching wouldn’t walk past.

You shut your eyes. Your heart pounded in your ears.

Then—

"What’re you doing crouching by a vending machine?"

Your eyes snapped open.

Bakugo.

Relief left your lungs in a sharp exhale. "Oh, it’s just you," you muttered.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Just me?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

Quickly, you got up, dusted off your knees, and tried to walk past him—only to feel a firm hand grip the sleeve of your collar.

"Who was that with you?" he demanded.

"Who? What? He was n— I mean, there was no one with me."

"Hey!" He shoved you back against the vending machine.

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t need off-campus losers sneaking in and causing problems for me. I’m on my way to the top, and I don’t have time for trash like that screwing things up. Keep your outside garbage out there."

You scoffed, shoving his hand off of you.

"Shut up. You don’t know anything. It’s dark out. You thought you saw two people? It was just me. Go get your eyes checked."

He pushed your arms to your sides and growled, "Listen, I know what I saw, and by the looks of it, you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like that anyway."

You stayed silent. "I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Your hair reeks of smoke. And you look like you belong on the street right now," he seethed. You held your breath.

"What’s it matter to you?" you finally spat. "One less person to get in your way of becoming a hero, right?" He didn’t reply. So, you kept talking. "So what? You gonna tell someone? Go ahead. Do it. I don’t care anymore anyway." Your voice cracked. You looked down in shame, muttering the last part under your breath.

He sighed. "You used to be an honors student. Maybe I should tell someone—get you kicked out. Not like it’ll make much of a difference whether you’re here or not. You don’t talk to anyone here anyway,” he muttered the last part.

That was it. That was the last straw. You mustered up the courage and drove your knee into his crotch. His grip on you instantly loosened as he grunted in pain. Wasting no time, you grabbed your bag from the ground and bolted.

You didn’t stop running until you felt you were far enough away. Only then did you glance back—he was gone. When you finally reached your dorm, you collapsed onto your bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next few weeks were spent in a state of paranoia. Every time a teacher so much as glanced your way, your heart pounded, fearing they’d pull you aside, take you to the office, and demand to search your bag. You tried to keep a low profile. No more using in the dorms. No more using at all. But it was too difficult. After a month, it became clear—Bakugo wasn’t going to say anything. Even so, you vowed never to bring your friend onto campus again. Instead, you snuck out at night, bought what you needed, and returned immediately.

That was supposed to be the end of it. But then, you started to feel it—eyes on you. Watching. Walking from class to class. At lunch. During breaks.

It was Bakugo.

You avoided eye contact at all costs. If I don’t acknowledge him, he’ll eventually stop. But he didn’t. Instead, it led to painfully awkward encounters—bumping into each other in the hallways, turning a corner only to find him there.

You even spotted him hanging around outside the 1-C dormitories. You brushed it off. It’s just a coincidence. He must know someone here. He just happened to be there at the same time as me. Still, a voice in the back of your mind nagged at you. Why would he care about a failing, drug-using student like me?

One night, for the first time in a while, you decided to sneak out again. Creeping out of your bottom-story dormitory window, you took a quiet walk across the school grounds, heading downtown.

Just as you were about to put your headphones in, you felt one being yanked from your ear.

You jumped, heart pounding—Bakugo.

"Where d'ya think you're going? Academic students have a curfew."

You scoffed. "I could say the same for you, hero course."

You put your headphone back in and kept walking, ignoring him. But he grabbed your bag. Hard. You barely had time to react before the force yanked you backward. He caught you before you hit the ground.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" you snapped, shoving him off.

"You're my problem, junkie."

You scoffed, disgusted. "I'm not a junkie," you muttered under your breath. But then he grabbed your bag again, and this time, everything inside went flying onto the pavement.

Panic set in. You scrambled to pick up your things before he could see—but it was too late. His eyes scanned the scattered items: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a pipe, multiple baggies—powders, pills, and plants.

His face went cold.

The amusement in harassing you disappeared instantly. "Fuck off already," you spat, stuffing everything back into your bag.

"I didn't realize it was this bad."

You didn’t reply. You just turned and speed-walked away.

He didn’t follow.

And you were relieved.

Months passed. Your grades tanked your 3rd year. Your addiction got worse. Skipping classes became routine—opting instead to get high at your friend’s apartment. "Alright, I'm gonna head out and re-up on that shit you like," he said, shutting the door behind him. You lay sprawled across his bed, sheets messy, clothes and empty beer cans scattered on the floor.

A cigarette dangled from your lips as you practiced blowing smoke rings. Minutes passed.

Then, the door creaked open."Hey, back already? Finally. Let's get this party started," you called out, pushing yourself up.

But as you stepped into the living room, you froze.

Standing there, bloodied and bruised, was Bakugo.

You stared.

So did he. For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, you found your voice. "Whose blood is that?"

Silence.

His fists, still clenched, dripped with blood. His knuckles were torn open. He stepped closer.

"We graduate soon, y'know," he muttered. "Only a few weeks left."

Something about him felt different—more dangerous.

His presence was overwhelming. He had only grown taller, stronger over the past 2 years. Meanwhile, you felt like you had only gotten smaller.

"I'm gonna be a full-fledged hero soon." He let out a dry laugh. "My parents helped me tour condominiums. I have one now too,” he bragged.

Your heart pounded. He was dodging your question. And he was still getting closer.

Your mind raced. I just need to get past him. Run out the door. It'll be fine. "Yeah. That’s cool, Bakugo. Good for you." You forced a nod. "Listen, what are you doing her—"

"That scum you hang around with," he interrupted. "You realize he's corrupting you? And you're too much of an idiot to know any better."

Another step forward.

You moved back, knocking over a lamp. Glass shattered, startling you. "Yeah, he's just a friend I like to hang out with. I was lon—"

"You had me!" Bakugo snapped. Your breath hitched. "You could’ve talked to me."

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean? You were in class 1-A, and I was in 1-C. I barely saw you."

"I mean as a kid." The words hit like a brick. "You barely made eye contact with me. Always thinking you were better than me. But look at you now." He sneered. "You're desperate for someone to come rescue you."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't need anyone to rescue me, Bakugo. I think you should go."

You backed up again—only to hit the wall.

Nowhere left to go. Bakugo exhaled through his nose, staring down at you. "I’m gonna help you. You’ll sober up. Gain some weight."

Your stomach twisted. "Let’s just make this easy on both of us. Come with me."

For a moment, you were silent. Then, you burst into laughter. It was loud, almost hysterical—whether it was genuine or not, you weren’t sure.

"You find this funny?"

"Yes! I do, actually!" you snapped. "I’m practically an adult! You can’t just take me. I’m not your responsibility. Now move."

You motioned for him to step aside.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed your wrist. Instinct kicked in. "Hey, get the fuck off me—!" In a blink, he flipped you over his back.

Panic surged through you. You kicked, heels slamming into his legs, struggling to break free—But his grip was like iron. And for the first time in your life… You were genuinely terrified. You pounded your fists against his back, kicked your legs, did anything to try and break free. But you were still coming down from a high—your movements sluggish, weak, useless.

Bakugo didn’t waver. His grip was iron, his hold on you unrelenting.

"Don’t worry," he kept muttering under his breath. "I’m gonna get you out of this shithole." When he pushed open the apartment stairway door, you were met with a sight that made your stomach drop.

Your friend—beaten, bruised, and bloody—lay motionless on the ground.

You screamed.

"Let go of me, you psychopath!"

He ignored you. Without hesitation, he dragged you outside and threw you into the trunk of his car. Before you could fight back, your wrists and ankles were bound tightly with zip ties. The trunk slammed shut, sealing you in darkness.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The drive felt endless. Every bump in the road made your restraints dig deeper into your skin. Your mind raced. Where was he taking you? What was he going to do?

By the time the car finally stopped and the trunk opened, the cold night air rushed over you. As soon as you saw an opening, you lunged, trying to make a break for it.

You didn’t get far. In seconds, he was on you—pinning you to the ground, his weight pressing you into the dirt.

"Calm the fuck down. I’m helping you." You thrashed, screamed for help, but no one came. His palm pressed against your wrists, keeping you restrained as he dragged you inside.

You barely had time to process before you were inside a large condominium—immaculate, modern, and painfully unfamiliar.

Your chest heaved, lungs burning from exertion and panic. "Why are you doing this?" Your voice cracked. "Why do you even care?"

He didn’t answer.

He just threw you to the floor and sliced the zip ties off your wrists with a pocket knife. The moment your hands were free, you lunged at him, fists swinging wildly.

He barely flinched. Within seconds, he had you pinned again, his hand tightening around your throat as he lifted you against the wall. His crimson eyes burned into yours, his grip just shy of suffocating.

"Lose this fucking attitude before I get pissed." Fury boiled inside you. You spit in his face. The instant it landed, you regretted it.

His jaw tensed. Without a word, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you toward a door.

Pain shot through your scalp, but you barely had time to react before you were being dragged down a flight of stairs—into the basement.

It was cold. Damp. The air was heavy with dust and mildew. Your stomach dropped. "Bakugo—" He shoved you against a metal support beam and began tying your wrists together with an extension cord to the beam. The plastic of the cord and cold metal beam bit into your skin. You thrashed, screamed louder—but your throat burned, raw from all the yelling.

No one came. No one was going to. With a final tug, he secured the knot, turned, and walked up the stairs.

The basement door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed you whole. For the first time since this nightmare began, you let yourself cry. Tears rolled down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as you tried to process what had just happened.

How had it come to this? You screamed again—until your throat ached too much to continue. You were thirsty. You were cold. You were alone. Eventually, exhaustion overtook your body, and you passed out.

When you woke, the basement door creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Bakugo.

In his hands, he carried a bucket and a towel. You scrambled back as far as your restraints would allow, pressing yourself against the cold beam. He crouched down, soaking the towel in water before wringing it out. Without a word, he reached forward, pressing it against your face.

You jerked away instantly, turning your head to avoid his touch.

But he was persistent. Every time you moved, he followed. Until, finally, he grabbed your chin—forcing you to look at him. His grip wasn’t as harsh as before, but it was firm.

And for the first time since this all began, he was silent. No threats. No taunts. Just silence. Slowly, he wiped away the sweat and dirt clinging to your skin.

Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of scissors. Your breath hitched. The cold metal grazed your arm, and for a moment, panic surged inside you. You were trembling now, eyes wide, heart hammering— But then, with a single motion, he began cutting your uniform away. Fabric fell in shreds, leaving you in just a bra and underwear. A fresh wave of humiliation crashed over you, your body shaking violently from both the cold and fear. Still, he said nothing.

He continued wiping down your arms, your stomach, your legs—his touch clinical, methodical. Your heartbeat was so loud you swore he could hear it. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. He pulled a clean T-shirt over your body—his, oversized and heavy with the scent of burnt caramel and musk.

Without another word, he tossed the bucket aside. "You can piss and shit in here." The bucket clattered against the floor. Then, he turned to leave.

You hesitated before finally croaking out, "What time is it?" He glanced over his shoulder. And then he walked away. The door slammed shut again. You were left in the dark. Alone.

Again.

Hours passed. The high had faded, leaving you raw. Your body ached, your hands trembled. The first waves of withdrawal crept in—irritability, nausea, a gnawing anxiety that only grew with every second that passed. God, you just wanted a cigarette.

Something. Anything. But there was nothing.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you once more, and you drifted into an uneasy sleep. When you woke again, sunlight barely crept through a small basement window in the corner. Your mind reeled.

They’ll notice I’m not in class. Someone will report me missing. They’ll find my friend—he’ll tell them what happened. They’ll come for me. They have to.

You held onto that hope, clinging to it like a lifeline. Then, the basement door opened again. Bakugo descended the stairs, carrying a plate of food and a glass of water. He crouched in front of you, set the plate down, then picked up a spoon. He scooped up a bite and motioned it toward your mouth.

You blinked. Then, you laughed. Loud and sharp. "Get that the fuck away from me, you creep. I don’t want th—" Before you could finish your sentence, a spoonful of food was shoved into your mouth.

You gagged, immediately spitting it onto the cold basement floor in defiance. Bakugo’s jaw ticked. Without a word, he scooped up another bite and forced it into your mouth, this time clamping a hand over your lips and pinching your nose shut.

"Swallow, and you get to breathe."

You held out for as long as you could, glaring at him through watery eyes. But the dizziness crept in, black dots dancing in your vision. He wasn’t bluffing. You swallowed. Air rushed into your lungs as he finally let go. "Good."

He kept going, shoving spoonful after spoonful past your lips until the bowl was empty. Your stomach twisted painfully, not used to eating this much after months of skipping meals, but he didn’t care.

Finally, he held the glass of water toward you.

You hesitated. "Drink." This time, you did. Your throat ached from screaming, raw and burning, and the cool water was a welcome relief.

Bakugo watched you the entire time, crimson eyes never wavering. For a while, he just sat there, studying you like you were some puzzle he was trying to solve. You swallowed thickly.

"You know someone's going to realize I'm missing," you finally said, voice hoarse. "They’ll come looking for me. And when they do, say goodbye to your career."

For a moment, he didn’t react. Then, he smiled. A slow, knowing smile. "Yeah? Guess we’ll have to see, huh?" Your stomach dropped. He was too confident. Too calm. You looked away, your earlier bravado suddenly cracking.

"What?" His voice was smug. "Where’d that smart attitude go now?"

You clenched your fists, biting your lip to keep from trembling. The cold of the basement seeped into your bones, the only sound was the distant hum of life continuing without you. You weren’t sure what scared you more—the situation you were in, or the sinking realization that maybe… just maybe… no one was coming to save you.

[hanmaitani]

Malleable

PAIRING - bf!Hanamaki Takahiro x Reader x Matsukawa Issei WC - 5K GENRE - Smut. no plot. i’m not sorry. CW - light dub-con (no explicit yes at first & mentions of reader being fucked when unconscious), filming, slight size kink, vaginal penetration, facefucking oral m!receiving, im unhinged sorry. PRONUNCIATION: mal·le·a·ble DEFINITION: able to be pressed permanently out of shape without breaking; easily influenced; pliable. SYNOPSIS - Playing anything other than video games with your bf and his best friend was not the original intention…but who are you to complain about it?

It wasn’t uncommon for me to come home and find Issei in my room, or even in my bed. His body taking up my side of the bed as he leaned against the headboard, game controller in his hand as his other pushed away the leg of Takahiro. Takahiro who was laying on his own side of our shared bed, on his stomach and facing the TV. Shouts and threats easily coming out of their lips, directed at each other as their video game went on.

I was generally happy to leave them be, let them have their moment as I went to run any errands I’d missed throughout the week. Today was the first time I’d had absolutely nothing to do. And coincidentally, Takahiro had offered to let me play with them. So in addition to the usual two boys on my bed for game day, I was laid in the center of the bed, nothing but a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt on my body as I laid the same way as Takahiro. His hands guiding mine on my controller every few minutes as I tried to keep up with the boys.

My eyes were too focused on the screen, trying to match fairly against the two that were already going easy on me. Too focused to notice the way Takahiro kept glancing back at Issei, and facing the wrong way to notice what Takahiro was. The way that Issei’s eyes zoned in on my thighs everytime they squeezed together when I tensed up because of the game. The way he watched my ass with a smirk every time I adjusted my hips, squirming in anxiousness at the way I was clearly losing the game.

It took a few rounds of me getting my ass kicked in the game for me to decide that maybe I just needed to walk away and come back. “I’m gonna go get some drinks, more of the same for you two?” I asked as I climbed over Takahiro to get out of bed and head for the door. They both nodded their consent and I was quick to head downstairs to refill all of our drinks. It wasn’t much work and didn’t take long, but I thought that it must be a great way to reset my head so that I wouldn’t get beat in the game as fast in the next round.

Issei and Takahiro had been talking when I reentered the room, but it seemed like my presence was enough to disband the conversation. I gave them both a weird look but shrugged and laid back down where I’d previously been, nestling my body against Takahiro’s. I quickly let myself drop back into the game, smiling when Issei quickly lost and it became just Takahiro and I in the game. I barely registered the movement on the bed behind me until I felt fingers brush along the hem of my shorts.

My body froze quickly, my eyes widening and flicking over to Takahiro, but he was just watching the screen. He smirked lightly, not bothering to look over at me as he spoke. “Keep playing sweetcheeks, he’s playing his own game.” He mumbled and guided my head back to the TV quickly.

I felt a small whine come out of my throat as I felt Issei’s fingers push my shorts to the side. His palms easily cupping against my ass and his thumbs brushed against my core through my panties. I bit my lip, trying to keep my sounds to myself as Issei’s hands pulled my thighs apart. My eyes flicked back to Takahiro but he seemed completely indifferent to what was happening with his best friend.

Now I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about Issei this way, or even mentioned to Takahiro once or twice, while drunk of course, about possibly sleeping with someone else. But I’d never imagined something like this happening, laying next to my boyfriend as his best friend was being mesmerized about how my thighs clenched when his fingers moved.

Issei’s hands were distracting as I tried to keep up with Takahiro in the game. He was slow in his movements, pressing just a single finger past my underwear and brushing against the wetness settling between my legs. I couldn’t help the whine that fell past my lips then, my head tumbling forward as Issei’s finger dragged up and down my slit.

Takahiro finally dropped his game controller, leaning up to watch what his friend was doing with my body. “You don’t have to be gentle with her.” He teased with a chuckle and Issei’s huff of laughter fell on deaf ears as I focused on the way two of his fingers suddenly sunk into me.

I whined easily, clenching around his digits. “Fuck.” Issei let out a groan as he pulled his fingers out before letting them sink back in. “She’s so fucking tight, Makki.” I felt my breathing stutter, my hands tightening around the controller still in my hands as Issei’s fingers slowly worked in and out of me. I was so focused on the way his fingers curled inside of me that I hadn’t noticed Takahiro’s hands touching my jaw until his fingers were prying open my jaw and pressing a ring between my teeth to keep my mouth open just wide enough for it to ache.

I whined up at him, eyes meeting his as he smirked down at me. “Wanna see your pretty tongue hang out for me sweet cheeks.” He pinched one of my cheeks after tightening the strap that held the ring in place and smiled when I whimpered around the gag, my tongue trying to press into the bottom of the ring. Issei’s fingers slipped out of me but quickly grabbed my hips instead as he and Takahiro pulled my body off the bed and maneuvered me onto my hands and knees. “Stay.” Takahiro instructed playfully as I watched him reach for his shirt, dragging it off his body easily. I watched him undress, a little drool starting to collect along my lips but I was quick to lick it off. I could feel Issei’s clothes drop onto the bed next to me but refused to disobey Takahiro and move to watch.

That decision caused my body to jerk forward in surprise when Issei’s fingers slipped back into me suddenly. “Don’t wanna break my new toy.” He joked when I caught Takahiro giving him a disapproving look. “You have such a pretty little cunt princess.” Issei mumbled, voice sounding as dazed as I felt under his touch.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Takahiro’s fingers drew my attention back to him as he tapped on my tongue as it curled in my mouth. “Tongue out.” He instructed and I obeyed, despite the feeling of drool slipping down the muscle that I wanted to pull back into my mouth. “Good. Now I want your eyes on me, okay?” I nodded lightly as he stood above me, eyes fixated on his as I looked up. Issei’s fingers were still slow in their movements, making me feel full but never giving enough friction.

I watched as Takahiro leaned off to the side, picking his phone up from where he’d left it on the shelf, before pointing it at me. “Wanna keep this memory, yeah? Look into the camera for me?” He smiled when I obeyed, focusing my eyes on the camera lens. He laughed then, and turned his phone sideways to capture me in the frame better before tapping on the screen a few times. “I got a better idea, actually.” The TV screen behind Takahiro came alive again as his phone synched up, my face now lit up on the screen, moving as Takahiro moved his camera. “There, so Mattsun can see your cute little faces too.”

Issei’s fingers slipped into me deeper and my eyes rolled slightly, a strangled whine coming from my lips as he bumped against a sensitive spot. “Fuck, that’s hot.” Issei noted as he flicked his eyes between the TV screen and where I was stuffed with his fingers.

“Don’t have to prep her that much Mattsun,” Takahiro chuckled, smirking at his friend over my body, ignoring the way I looked up at him, “she liked it when it hurts.” Issei groaned a little at the thought, eyes training on how I stretched around just two of his fingers, imagining his whole length. “Hey,” Takahiro tapped my cheek for attention and I looked up at him, “Mattsun’s pretty big, want him to fuck you dumb?”

Takahiro’s grip on my chin forced my head to nod as I whimpered. He hooked his finger into the gag and pull it out of my mouth slightly, nodding his consent for me to verbalize the request. “Please Issei,” I mumbled back to the man behind me, feeling his fingers curl again, “wanna go dumb on your cock.” Takahiro smiled, shoving the gag back into my mouth, cutting off my protest as Issei withdrew his fingers.

Takahiro was smirking, a devious thing on his lips as he watched my hips try to push back towards Issei. I couldn’t be bothered to think about why Takahiro looked so smug as I whined around the gag when I could feel Issei lining up being me. “You’ve no idea how big he really is do you, sweet cheeks?”  He smirked, bringing the camera back to my eye level. “Just my dumb little cutie, aren’t you?” I nodded my head rapidly, looking up into Takahiro’s eyes, ignoring the camera. He clicked his tongue at me in disappointment. “Keep your eyes on the camera baby,” he tapped his finger against the phone next to the lens and watched as I followed instructions, “wanna watch you fall apart over and over again.”

I was too focused on trying to push my hips towards Issei as I kept my eyes on the camera, that I missed the way Takahiro nodded back to Issei. Issei was quick to push his hips against mine, slowly pushing his way in. The scream that left my mouth was barely muffled by the gag as I fell off my arms, top half collapsing onto the bed. The pain radiating through my lower half had tears pooling in my eyes, broken whines falling from my tongue as my head dropped forward. It felt like I was being split down the middle as he continued to push in. Takahiro’s fingers lifted my chin back up, putting my expressions on display for the camera.

I whined and panted, trying to catch my breath, my hips unwillingly trying to move away from him to ease the stretch. “Hey,” Issei laughed as his hands caught my hips and pulled them back up and into place, “ you asked for this.” He stopped moving and I felt so full, trying to whine about it but the words wouldn’t form around the gag. “You seem like you’re pretty full baby.” He was laughing but I nodded desperately, agreeing with his comment. I could feel some of my tears leak down my cheeks, feeling him throb inside of me, stretching me out. I could hear his fake pout in his voice then, “but I haven’t even bottomed out yet.” My eyes snapped up to Takahiro quickly, both widening as I looked to him for help. It was only a split second, right before they rolled back when he pushed the rest of the way in harshly.

A wet sob choked around the gag in my mouth as Takahiro kept my head up, capturing the way my eyes squeezed shut, tears falling down my cheeks as I tried to adjust to him, unable to whine about how it felt like too much. “But pretty girl,” Takahiro’s voice was condescending as his hand stroked my cheek gently, “you still want Mattsun to fuck you dumb right?” I paused for just a split second before I was nodding again, desperate to be good for them, make them happy.

Issei was slow at first, hands firm on my hips as he pushed mine away from his. A series of groans and curses fell from Issei’s lips as his hands squeezed my hips. He was pulling my hips back to him slowly again. I couldn’t help but whimper as he continued his slow pace, the pain mixing into pleasure. Overwhelming as he pulled my body to his pleasure, restraining himself as he dragged me back and forth. “Fuck, she feels too good.” Issei groaned, voice strained as he spoke over me.

Takahiro was taking in the way my tongue lolled out of my mouth through the gag, my watery eyes staring through the camera, glazed over as I felt dizzy. “C’mon, Mattsun, really give it to her. She’s already about to cum.” I whined, knowing he was right, the tightening in my stomach winding tighter by the second.

Issei’s hips picked up pace then, and I shrieked as he rocked his hips back into me. His pace was quick and I swore I could feel him in my throat. I could barely register the sound of his hips slamming against mine with the way his cock bumped against my cervix with every thrust, deliciously painful. “Stop tryna run, baby.”  Issei growled, his hands dragging my hips back up to him from where they’d started to drop. Takahiro came back into my vision, his smirk behind his camera as his fingers kept my head up. I could feel my eyes starting to cross, the world around me turning double as I focused on the way Issei felt pounding into me over and over again.

“C’mon sweet girl,” Takahiro cooed, his fingers finding the gag in my mouth again to pull it out, “tell me how much you like Mattsun inside you.”

“Feels so-” a whine ripped through my mouth as Issei slightly changed the angle of his hips, a shaky sob fell past my lips. “Feels good Hiro, love love-” I screamed slightly as Issei thrusted harder. “Feels so-” I cried out again as Issei leaned his upper body over mine, pushing into me impossibly deeper, his arm wrapping around my hips so his fingers could brush my clit. My vision blurred out as my fists gripped the comforter under me. Issei was unrelenting as my orgasm ripped through me, tears flooding my cheeks as I convulsed under him.

Takahiro clicked his tongue at me in disappointment. “You too dumb to ask for permission already?” He teased and I whined, regret trying to fill my body but the way Issei was pounding into me still, it was hard to focus on anything but that. “That’s okay. Mattsun, if she can’t ask anyways, she wants us to pull everything we can from her.” Takahiro tilted my head to the side, a different angle for the camera to catch the drool falling off my tongue and coating my chin, mixing with my tears. “Look so messy, so pretty like this, hmm?” I nodded softly, whimpering agreement. He stood back up then, tapping his tip against my tongue for just a second before thrusting into my mouth.

My body jerked back involuntarily in response, but it immediately had my eyes crossing from the way I accidentally impaled myself further on Issei’s cock. I choked around Takahiro and watched as he passed the phone back to Issei, both pressing into me further to lean towards each other.

“Look pretty back here too.” Issei told me, the vision on the TV screen now showing Issei stretching me out. He pulled out slowly and reveled in how I leaked my own juices around him before quickly shoving back inside of me. I jerked slightly, eyes rolling at the feeling of him thrusting back into me. “Look how stretched you are princess, can’t even tighten up around me can you?” I whined around Takahiro as he took the phone back from Issei.

Takahiro pointed the phone back at my face, still not moving down my throat as he spoke. “Mattsun, why don’t you fill her up now? You want Mattsun’s cum, sweet thing?” My eyes widened at the prospect, and I could feel my body tense up. “Look how excited she is Mattsun.” He teased, and I could only imagine that Issei was now watching my face on the screen. “You’re gonna watch later how desperate you look for it. Now,” he chuckled and pulled out of my mouth, leaving me panting and trying to catch my breath, “why don’t you beg him for it baby.”

Issei didn’t even give me the chance to catch my breath before he picked back up at an unrelenting pace. Small shrieks left my lips as I babbled, attempting to ask for it but too overwhelmed with the way he was ramming into me over and over again, chasing his own high.

“You’re so cute tryna beg.” Issei teased, laughter coming from both him and Takahiro as they pulled my upper body off the bed. “Hand me the phone Makki, wanna record her taking it.” I whined at the idea and my eyes rolled as Issei’s thrusts got even rougher.

“Here baby, watch.” Takahiro gripped my chin and directed it straight at the screen, forcing me to watch the way my pussy swallowed his cock up every time. Clinging onto him as he pulled back. “Look at your cute little cunt trying to take him. Want him to fill you up with cum?” I nodded my head desperately, whiny semblances of the word yes falling from my lips like prayers. “Then you gotta watch him do it.” I nodded in agreement even though my vision was blurred by tears and trying to focus them was too hard for me.

Issei’s thrusts got sloppy quickly, never losing their perfect angle and depth though. I could barely register the feeling of his fingers digging into the plush of my hip, but I could see the indents caused on the screen as he pressed himself inside of me as far as he could. I whimpered at the feeling of being filled as he painted my cervix. I could make out his hips twitching on the screen and I was trying to focus on it.

I tried to protest the loss of him as he pulled out but Takahiro shushed me softly, making me watch the screen and Issei dipped the camera lower. Issei’s thumb brushed against my clit and I shrieked slightly, not expecting the sensation of the friction on the sensitive spot. My hips jerked forward slightly only to be caught by Mattsun’s free hand. “Stay still.” He ordered. “You’re ruining the shot.” He chuckled after the sentence and I could feel my core clench up in need again. The action caused some of his cum to seep out and I bit my lip at the sight of the thick white liquid beginning to drip. “There it is.” I could hear the smile in his voice as his fingers spread my lower lips open to show it off more. He was quick to collect his dripping cum and push them back in with his fingers, curling them immediately to hear the moan that was forced out of my throat at my oversensitivity. “So cute all overstimulated.”

I saw the camera move before I registered the feeling of the mattress shifting as Issei moved from behind me. Issei was in front of me within seconds. My eyes trained on the motion of his hand, stroking himself still. I couldn’t help the small bit of drool collecting on my lips as I took in how big he looked up close. His large hand wrapped tightly around the base, tugging on it to keep it hard. I could hear them talking but was too focused on the way it looked, entranced by the small bit of his cum still leaking out of the tip and dribbling onto his fingers.

I squeaked suddenly when two pairs of hands quickly flipped me over, my back connecting with the bed as Takahiro settled himself in between my thighs. I barely registered the burn in my thighs as he lifted my knees, pushing them open and further up my body. “Favorite thing about her?” He wasn’t speaking to me, but to Issei, pretending like I wasn’t below the two of them. “She tightens up between rounds.” He chuckled as he sheathed himself inside of me in one quick thrust.

I cried out as my body was pushed up on the bed slightly, head dropping off the edge. Takahiro didn’t fill me nearly as much as Issei had, but he’d studied my body like it was his religion. Knew me inside and out, every perfect angle and sensitive spot on my skin. He didn’t waste any time picking up a steady pace, hitting the right spots so sweetly. I couldn’t help the breathy moans falling from my lips, especially with the dizzy feeling filling my brain from my head hanging the way it was.

“Look at this.” Issei pressed his hips towards my face, lining his cock next to my face, base near my mouth. I whined when his large palm rested over my throat, dragging lower until he stopped where the tip of his cock ended. “How far down her throat I could go.” I whimpered, whether it was from fear or excitement, though, I couldn’t tell you. “I suggest you take a deep breath, princess.”

I gasped as Takahiro delivered a particularly harsh thrust into me and Issei took the chance to shove his cock past my lips, still wet from my drool. It was like it was easy for him to force his was into my throat, even when I could feel it constricting. My head felt like it was swimming from the pressure as he settled himself into my throat. I could barely process his cooing, praise as he instructed me to relax. He didn’t stop until my nose was pressed snugly against his balls.

“There you go, sweet little thing.” I was sure it was Takahiro’s voice, but with the way Issei’s hand settled back over my throat, I couldn’t be positive. I could feel it moving over his bulge and I tried to whine but it couldn’t come out quite right around him. I could register them talking but it was muted, muffled sounds in my ears as my vision blurred out. My focus was only taken by the way Takahiro continued to thrust against the most sensitive spot inside of me, his thumb circling my clit, as Issei’s hand not on my throat tweaked at one of my nipples.

The pressure in my core was building and making me dizzy, but so was the pressure in my lungs, the urge to breathe forcing my throat to constrict around Issei’s length even more. I could feel his fingers tense whenever I did. My blurry vision started to darken around the edges, my chest tightening even more as it did. I didn’t even register my hand coming up to tap against Issei’s thigh until he was pulling away from me.

Air flooded my lungs and coughed as I gasped. Strings of drool and Issei’s precum dripped onto my cheeks. It took me a second to register that Issei had crouched down, propping my head up to put ease on my airway as he rested it against his shoulder. I could see Takahiro from this angle, diligently pressing his hips into mine over and over. I could feel Issei smearing the wetness into my cheeks as his voice finally started to register in my ears.

“So pretty like this, such a good girl for us.” He praised, his thumb slipping to brush over my bottom lip. I was so focused on the way Takahiro pounded into me, the feeling overwhelming as Issei’s words and his soft kisses against the tears on my cheeks. I barely realized I was about to cum until I already was. “Just like that.” Issei chuckled against my skin as I sobbed out moans, back arching and head falling into his chest. Takahiro didn’t slow down, instead he leaned over me, angle different but just as sweet, rougher if anything. “You gonna let us use you until you pass out?” Issei’s words sent a wave of excitement down my spine, my eyes trying to focus on his.

“You’re gonna let us right, sweet cheeks?” Takahiro’s voice was mixed with pants and moans and I whimpered at the way his hands tightened around my legs. “Then let us keep using you til we’re done?” I was nodding before I could even think about it. Trying to form the word ‘yes’ but my tongue refused to form the sounds. “Such a good girl.”

Issei guided my head back to where it was before, hanging off the bed, but this time also braced by his hand on the back of it. “Relax, baby, we’ll take care of you.” He muttered, waiting for me to breathe in before he sheathed his cock back into my throat, slowly pressing in until the tip was as far as it would go. He drew himself out until my lips were just wrapped around the tip before pushing back in. “Relax baby.” Issei picked up his pace, fucking my throat, the strain forcing more tears out of my eyes. Leaning forward, his fingers bumped against Takahiro’s, both of them rubbing my clit, bringing me over yet another edge.

My vision was blurry as I tried to focus on something, ground myself, but their different paces made me dizzy. I barely registered the sound of my own gagging mixed in with my strangled noises. My vision started to darken again, but I relaxed this time, focusing on the overwhelming pleasure. Every piece of my body felt like it had been lit on fire. My last memory before I finally passed out was the faint feeling of air rushing back into my lungs and ropes of sticky liquid coating my face.

My eyes felt heavy when I finally woke up, limbs tangled into my comforter. I blinked a few times, trying to process my surroundings as I yawned. My hair was damp, splayed out on my pillow. I could faintly pick out the scent of my own conditioner. They’d washed me up. I was in Issei’s shirt, the one he’d been wearing when he’d come over, soft and worn, and too big for my body. I let out a soft whine as I tried to sit up, the burning in my legs suddenly revealing itself.

“Hey, you’re awake.” I turned my head to see Takahiro walking in. He sat next to me, brushing the hair out of my face as he pressed a soft kiss into my cheek. “How are you feeling?” He spoke to me softly and I leaned into his touches.

“So-” I coughed, my throat scratchy from Issei’s abuse. “Sore.” I whispered, ignoring the crack in my words.

He hummed in acknowledgement. “I bet. Tired too, yeah?” I nodded along to his words and he helped move the blanket off of me. “Yeah, you took a pretty nice nap there.” He chuckled as he wound his arm under my legs before lifting me up and fully into his arms. “Let’s go get you some dinner, okay? Issei’s already down there.” I nodded sleepily, letting him carry me down to the living room.

“Hey, morning princess.” Issei mumbled, kissing my forehead after Takahiro sat me down on the sofa next to him.

I smiled in response. “So what happened?” I questioned, knowing that I was out before they finished, but intrigued as to how long it went on, the idea of it still sending sparks through my body.

“You wanna watch it, pretty girl?” Issei asked, dragging my body closer to his. My eyes trained on the sweats low on his hips, hiding what I now knew to be a monster, but I nodded along in agreement, heat already building up between my thighs.

“Why don’t you keep Mattsun warm then, hmm?” Takahiro smirked as he stepped away from the couch, moving towards the kitchen. “He’ll pull up the video for us.”

“Come here.” Issei tugged his sweats down slightly, pulling his cock back out. Now, fully conscious, I could whine about how big it was, even half hard like it was now, it was daunting. He guided my hips over his, keeping me facing the living room TV as he pressed his tip into my entrance.

I whined at the stretch, still aching from earlier. He was much easier to take when he wasn’t fully hard but it was still a feat. Issei moaned softly in my ear. “Feel how good your cunt is for me. Stretching for me, drooling over my cock.” He had a hand on my chin, keeping my head directed to the screen where my face was now appearing. “Gonna watch how pretty you look when you go dumb from my cock.” I nodded in agreement, whimpering when I could actually feel Issei grow inside of me, stretching me out more as he did.

“You having fun, sweet cheeks?” Takahiro teased, as he leaned against the entrance of the living room. I bit my lip, a small feeling of guilt creeping into me, but the smirk on his lips told me I had nothing to feel guilty for. “Maybe we should share you more often.” He mused, laughing when I nodded my head softly. “Yeah, Mattsun likes that idea too.” Issei’s lips were on my neck now, humming as he sucked a mark into my skin.

I moaned lightly at the thought, realizing they’d already talked about it. Sharing could be nice.

a/n i had to bring it back truly happy birthday strawberry boy

TAGLIST -

@intergalacticrory @tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501

@pearl-blue-musings @qichun @megumuro @s0uldarling @samus-onigiri-stand

@seiri-ously @deepenthevoid @albakugo @winniethepooh-lover @unriding

@all-in-the-fandoms @little-miss-naill @lumestar @theycallmenanamisgirl @cl-0-vr

@iluv-ace @appalost @rockrose-blossoms @afire24 @crystal-lilac

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

Reckless Indulgence - Jeff the Killer & Ticci Toby x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: Dubcon

Tags: Threesome, double vaginal penetration, fingering, oral sex, creampie, German dirty talk

Words: 5.1k

I posted this on AO3 a while back but I’m cross posting it here now :3

As always, all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy

if you speak German I’m sorry LMAO (and if you don’t just hold down to highlight the text and hit translate)

Trees blurred past as you drove down an old back road, music blaring through your speakers. You had curated the perfect playlist for the long drive ahead of you. There was nothing on these roads for miles and miles.

The sun was setting along the rows of trees, dipping down to disappear below them. Despite the night winding down your energy was all the way up.

You were on your way back home from a visit with one of your closest friends. It had been months since you had gotten to see her, so even with the distance the trip was definitely worth it. Ever since she moved away for college a couple of years ago, you only got to see her whenever there were breaks in both of your college’s schedules.

Now that it was summer you finally had the opportunity to go down and see her. You had an amazing time all weekend, it was hard to leave.

That’s why you ended up leaving a little later than you had intended. It made you a little nervous to be driving so far at night by yourself, but you tried to remind yourself you had nothing to worry about. You made sure to fill up your gas tank before you left, you didn’t need to pee, and you’d chosen only bangers for the music to accompany your trip.

You took a sip of your monster and got back to belting the lyrics to Yeah Boy and Doll Face.

“DO YOU WANT MEEEEEE? DO YOU WANT TO LET ME KNOW THAT YOU’RE OKAYYYYYYY?”

There was a slight rumbling sound coming from your car but you decided to ignore it.

“A DIAMOND GOLD RINGGGGG, CUSTOMIZED TO CUT YOUR CIRCULATION.”

The rumbling started to get louder.

That can’t be good.

“I COULDN’T LET YOU GO. I NEVER LET YOU GO MY DEAR!” You continued screaming.

The rumbling started to overtake even your loud vocals.

Maybe I should pull over?

Before you had the chance to weigh the pros and cons of pulling over on the side of the highway as a woman alone at night, your car had started decelerating.

“Fuck!” You managed to pull over in time for your car to completely stop running.

For a brief moment you just sat there, thinking about how absolutely fucked you were.

I don’t fucking know shit about cars. What the fuck am I gonna do?

You decided it would be best to at least try to take a look at it. You reached down and pulled the lever to pop the hood. After doing a little unceremonious walk to the front of the car you pulled the hood open and propped it up with the hook.

Your phone flashlight didn’t offer the best lighting, but after propping it up at a good angle you felt like you could actually take a look. You put your hands on your hips as your eyes scanned over the engine.

“Yep.” You said to yourself, taking a pause. “I don’t know shit about cars.”

You grabbed your phone and closed the hood. Who were you kidding?

You got back in the car and dialed your dad’s number.

The phone didn’t even ring. There was just the immediate ended-call beep. You pulled the phone away from your ear to glare at it for not working properly. The screen read “call failed.”

Great. You didn’t have reception now either.

What the hell? It was working a few minutes ago.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you rested your head on the steering wheel. You were definitely well and thoroughly fucked in this situation.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on the steering wheel. A previously unnoticed light ahead caught your eye.

Perhaps that is a gas station or some other source of respite.

So you got out of your car and started your sorry little trek to the gas station, shivering every time the wind blew just a little too hard.

Should’ve brought a damn jacket.

In your defense, it was summertime, so your crop top and shorts made a lot of sense for daytime weather. You just hadn’t anticipated having to walk half a mile at night. Clothing aside, you were being incredibly vigilant as you walked. Tonight just didn’t feel like the right night to get murdered.

As you got closer to the gas station, you could see it was dead as hell. Not surprising given you were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night.

Two dudes standing on the corner of the building caught your eye. One was wearing black ripped skinny jeans and a white hoodie, pulled up over his head. You could see his messy long black hair coming down out of the hood. The rest of his face was obscured by a mask.

Maybe he’s worried about getting sick?

The other one was a bit taller, also wearing a hoodie, but his had stripes on the sleeves and he didn’t have it pulled up, which left his shaggy brown hair and a pair of goofy looking goggles on top of his head completely visible. There was also one other super notable feature about him, which was that he was wearing a huge bandage on the left side of his face.

These guys look kinda sketchy.

Other than your quick glance at them, you tried to keep your head down and walk into the gas station quickly. Once inside, you walked straight up to the counter, only to see it was empty.

There’s no one working here?

You waited for a bit, thinking maybe they had just walked to the back or were on break or something. A peruse of the aisles didn’t seem like a bad idea, but even after finding a monster and some candy, no one had come to the counter.

“Hello?” You called into the store, only to get silence back.

You waited for about 5 more minutes, your stomach starting to churn. Your original plan was to come in here and beg to use the phone, but there was no person behind the counter to beg to, and no phone in sight for you to just take matters into your own hands.

After another ten minutes of waiting you weren’t only anxious, but now you were feeling pretty pissed too. What kind of gas station doesn’t even keep staff on at night?

I’m fucking stealing this shit.

You walked out of the gas station, fuming, only to find that those two guys were still standing there.

Can’t hurt to ask.

You swallowed your fear and walked up to them, both of them turning to look at you as you walked up.

“Hi, um, sorry to bother you guys, but do either of you have a phone I could use?” When the pair just stared at you for just a beat too long you decided to keep going. “I promise I’m not trying to steal it! It’s just my car broke down and I’m not getting any reception out here.”

The tall one chuckled and you could tell the other guy was smiling a bit beneath his mask, they exchanged a glance before looking back at you. The pale one in the white hoodie was the first to speak up. “Nah, we’re not getting any reception out here either, sweetheart.” His voice was gruff and a bit raspy.

Despite the bad feeling in your gut from the way they had glanced at each other and the fact that you felt like that was a lie, you pushed further. “Well… You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about cars would you?”

—

“So what are you -fuck- doing out here in the middle of the night anyways?” The tall one, who had introduced himself to you as Toby asked. You noticed he jerked his head to the side in tandem with the swear, but you decided not to ask, it was probably some kind of medical condition or something.

“I was just passing through on my way home from visiting a friend. I hadn’t really anticipated my car totally malfunctioning.” You were walking in between them, Toby on your right and the other one, Jeff, on your left. You hadn’t really thought much about the way the three of you had fallen into stride, but now as you walked with them you felt a little nervous about being alone with them.

You cast a glance at Jeff, who had been a lot quieter than Toby. He glanced at you at the same moment and you immediately averted your eyes.

That shouldn’t have made my heart flutter like that. That’s just pathetic.

“You’re not go- -cough- gonna ask what we’re doing out here this late? You must be pretty carefree.” Toby had leaned in to say to you, causing you to jump just a little, especially since his jerking caused him to lean his head even closer to you than you assumed he intended.

You immediately realized how rude you were being. “I’m sorry!” You clasped your hands together. “I totally just asked you guys for help and I haven’t even asked anything about you guys.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Jeff finally spoke up. “Not the smartest, are you?”

You cocked your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“A girl alone asking two random guys for help when she has no way to escape? Pretty fucking stupid.”

Your brain short circuited, thrown off by the fact that he would say something like that so directly. You didn’t know what to say. Wanting to lighten the mood you just blurted out, “I mean at least you guys are hot.”

You immediately regretted it once it had come out.

What the fuck did I just say?

“Oh?” Toby had leaned in towards you again. “You’d just -fuck- say something like that so directly? Are you trying to ask us for something?”

“No, no!” You immediately tried to cover your ass. “I was just trying to make a joke or something. It was stupid.”

Jeff was looking at you now too, a dark look in his eyes. You could tell he was smiling under the mask, too.

“Are you a -fuck- sicko?” Toby asked, jerking a little more as you could feel his excitement rise. “Huh? Do you fantasize -fuck- about getting kidnap- -fuck- kidnapped by guys in the woods?” There was a clear fascination in his eyes, like he was dying to know the answer.

“I’m not!” You attested, holding your hands up in front of you trying to create a little bit of space between you and Toby. “I swear I was just-”

“This thing yours?”

You turned to see Jeff standing in front of your car. Thank god you were back to the car, it’s a worthy distraction.

“Yeah!” You said a little too eagerly. “I’ll go pop the hood.”

You circled the car and hopped into the driver's seat, pulling the handle under the steering wheel. The hood instantly jumped up with a little pop sound. You got out as Toby was pulling up the hood, propping it up with the hood rod.

You walked around the front of it, leaning over the car to point. “So it was making like a rumbling noise and it kinda sounded like it was coming from over here.”

You were completely bent over the car, painfully oblivious to the way your shorts hugged your ass.

They were on either side of you now, Toby a little closer than Jeff.

Jeez he really doesn’t know personal space…

“Yeah? It was over -fuck- here?” Toby jerked some more, pointing in the opposite direction you had shown them.

“No, it was more towards the back. Like-” You bent over even further to point in the direction of the noise. “Here.”

You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder right after you said that. Toby was way too close to you. Even worse, he looked like he was jittering with excitement.

Before you could even process that, his arms snaked around you. One around your hip to harshly press you against him and the other roughly squeezing your chest. He leaned in close to your neck, nose pressed against your hair before he inhaled deeply. You yelped in surprise, both from Toby and from the sudden sound of the hood closing.

“You always rush the fun parts.” Your eyes whipped next to you where Jeff was, pulling off his face mask which revealed two large gashes on his face, gruesomely exaggerating his smile.

“Yeah, but she smells so good.” Toby sniffed you again, then squeezed the places he was holding you even harder causing you to yelp again. “And I knew she’d make cute noises.”

“You’re scaring her. She’d like this better.” Jeff said, lifting your chin and pulling you into a kiss that slowly became sloppier as it went on. Electricity shot down to your cunt.

Your head was spinning, your body growing hotter as this went on. How did this even happen?

“Hey, that’s not fair -fuck-. I wanted -fuck- to kiss her first.” Toby seemed to jerk even more the more excited he got.

Jeff seemed to ignore Toby’s complaining, only pushing his tongue deeper into your mouth. You felt the wetness collecting in your panties, especially when Toby pressed himself even harder against you. You could feel how hard he was already, and that knowledge only served to send more electricity down to your cunt.

“Y’know you’re not really struggling at all.” Toby whispered to you. “I was right about you wasn’t I? You’re sick, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, Jeff still occupying your mouth. Toby started kissing your neck, landing on the perfect spot to suck hard and leave a mark. His hand snaked down from your hip, dipping under your waistband and into your panties. His fingers slid between your folds, immediately getting coated in all your wetness. He groaned in your ear. “You really do like this don’t you? You’re so fucking wet.”

Jeff pulled away from your mouth, looking you in the eyes. “You’re fucking wet already? That’s pathetic.”

Toby bit into your neck, causing you to moan. Jeff grabbed your face, squeezing it as he forced you to look him in the eyes. He looked completely fascinated with you. “She really is a good one.”

Toby started to run his fingers in between your folds, deliberately slowing down each time his fingers ran over your clit. You bit your lip to stifle the moan that rose up. “See? Good thing I killed that stupid fuck at the gas station.” Toby said, sounding pretty proud of himself.

You froze, your face twisting into a horrified expression.

“Oh, what’s the matter, sweetheart?” Jeff teased, a sick grin on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of us now?”

“Let me go!” You sounded panicked, starting to struggle out of Toby’s hold. Toby giggled at your attempts, they had no effect on his grip. He was much much stronger than he looked.

In some sick twist of fate, the fear was only making you more aroused, but there was absolutely no way you could let them know that. That would undoubtedly be disastrous.

“That’s the expression I love to see.” Jeff smiled wide, loving the way the fear was etched into your features. Toby bit you again, harder this time, causing a half scream, half moan sound to come out of you.

“You know that you’re only getting wetter?” Toby said, just to taunt you. He dipped a finger into you. “Fuck, you’re tight. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl.”

Jeff leaned down to your neck, biting down on the side opposite of the one Toby bit earlier. The pain caused you to cry out, only turning into choked moans as Toby slid another finger in and curled them forward.

Jeff had one hand on your waist and the other started unbuttoning your shorts as he sucked a dark purple mark onto your neck. Toby only continued to grind his fingers against your g-spot, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

Jeff pulled back to admire his work, biting back a smirk quickly before practically ripping your shorts down to the ground. “She even wore cute panties. Those for us, sweetheart?”

You whined in response. You were only getting wetter and wetter, your cunt making gushing sounds as Toby continued to pound your g-spot with his fingers. “I think she really likes being treated like a slut.” Toby said. “She’s not even fighting it.” He leaned closer to your ear. “You like it when we’re rough with you, don’t you, pretty girl? Makes your cunt feel good?”

Your eyes started to flutter back, and Jeff gripped your face once again. “Hey. Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He simultaneously wrapped his other hand around your throat. “Gonna come already?”

Toby let go of your chest, only momentarily though, so he could slip his hand under your crop top and bra and tease your nipples. The combination of everything was too much, you felt hazy and your brain was turning to TV static. The tension in your stomach was coiling and coiling until it finally snapped.

“That’s it. Good girl. Come like the pathetic fucking slut you are.” Toby taunted you as you came hard around his fingers, your cunt convulsing around them.

“Fuckkk…” you moaned out, your eyes rolling back in your head. “Don’t stop…” you just barely whispered, but it was loud enough for Toby to hear. He giggled in your ear. “God, you’re sick.”

Jeff was getting annoyed watching you two. Albeit watching you come was entertaining, he was a little pissed he wasn’t the one to make you come first. “Alright, my turn. Get her up on the car.”

Toby swiveled around with you in his arms, sitting back on the hood of the car with you on his lap, your back pressed to his chest. He hooked an arm under each of your legs, hauling them up and completely putting you on display for Jeff. “That good enough for you?” Toby asked, a little smug. He was clearly still feeling cocky from making you come first.

Jeff just rolled his eyes, sinking down to his knees. His face was just inches away from your cunt. He gripped your thigh with one hand, using the other one to spread you open even further with his thumb.

“Aww~, your pretty little pussy is trembling.” He snickered, looking right at your most intimate area.

You trembled in Toby’s hold. “What? You’re embarrassed now?” Toby asked, mockingly.

Jeff watched you tremble for just a second longer before licking a thick stripe up your cunt. A long moan tore out of your throat, your head falling back onto Toby’s shoulder.

More moans followed as Jeff started lapping at your clit, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of electricity through your body.

You were still so sensitive from coming a few minutes ago, so it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge again.

Toby pushed one of your legs to the side, leaving you to hold it open yourself as he occupied his hand by pushing up your shirt, taking the bra up with it and exposing your chest to the cool night air.

He used the hand that was still holding your other leg to start kneading your chest and the other one to turn your chin towards him, tipping it upwards to claim your mouth.

You moaned into Toby’s mouth as Jeff’s tongue started to tease your entrance, dipping inside. He used his thumb to put pressure on your clit as he fucked you with his tongue.

Toby bit your lip a little bit before releasing your mouth. “You that close already?”

“Fuck…!” You moaned out, gripping Toby’s pant legs below you to ground yourself.

Toby roughly turned your chin towards him again, “You gonna come all over his tongue, pretty girl? Huh? Answer me.”

“I’m… coming…!” You whimpered, almost breathlessly.

Your climax seemed to never end, dragging on and on as Jeff continued to rub circles on your clit while he tongue fucked you. Finally, he relented and you were able to come down.

Jeff got up, already unbuttoning his pants. “Keep her up like that.”

Toby immediately refused. “What? No way. I want to fuck her first.” He let go of your legs and stood up, hauling you up with him. He turned you towards him, sitting back down onto the hood of the car and pulling you into his lap.

“You already got to make her come first.” Jeff argued.

“So?” Toby looked unaffected, already unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out. “She’s already in my lap.” He looked up at you. “Besides, you wanna fuck me first anyways, right?”

You could barely focus on what they were saying, focusing more on Toby’s cock pressed against the entrance of your cunt. You were dripping onto him. The need to have him inside you was dire, and if you were honest you didn’t have time to wait for this argument to play out.

You rocked yourself against his cock, signaling how desperate you were. “Such a cockslut.” Toby muttered under his breath, biting his lip as he helped guide you onto his length. You both let out a groan as you sunk down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck… I knew you’d be tight.” Toby breathed out, gripping your hips with bruising force. You winced, and he looked up at you with eyes full of morbid fascination. “Does it hurt?”

His hold on you didn’t loosen as he lifted your hips and slammed you back down onto him, watching the way your face changed from pain to pleasure. “But you like it? It feels good?” He kept moving your hips up and down on his lap.

“Slow… down…!” You moaned uncontrollably. The more times you came, the more sensitive you had become.

“Really? You want me to? You’re creaming all over my cock right now.” He bit his lip.

It was then that your ears started picking up on the horribly lewd squelching noise made by your movements. You were creaming all over him. Tears were brimming in your eyes as you got closer and closer to coming again.

Toby slammed into your g-spot just a few more times just right until you finally broke, coming around his cock. You were almost crying out, letting out choked moans until he bit down hard on your shoulder. He let out a low groan and kept his face buried in your shoulder. “Du fühlst dich so gut an.” He mumbled.

You were too out of it to even process that he wasn’t even speaking English.

“He acts like we can even understand what the fuck he’s saying.” Jeff scoffed, his fingers prodding at your cunt.

“Jeff!” You whipped around, surprised that he had gotten so close without you even noticing.

“Hey what are you doing?” Toby narrowed his eyes at Jeff. “Wait your turn.”

Jeff had coated his fingers in the substance created by you and Toby and was slowly edging his finger into your cunt.

“She can take it. Relax, Toby.” Jeff rolled his eyes. You felt yourself stretch wider as Jeff got his finger in, pushing it as deep as possible.

“Oh my god…” you breathed out, gripping onto Toby even tighter.

“You can take it, can’t you?” Jeff whispered in your ear. “I know you can.”

Jeff added a second finger, stretching you even wider with Toby still inside you. The increase in pressure from behind was pushing Toby’s cock against your g-spot hard, causing you to tighten around him and Jeff’s fingers.

You leaned forward, burying your face in Toby’s shoulder so you could let out a guttural moan without having to feel so embarrassed about it. You lifted your hips as much as you could with Toby inside you, giving Jeff the perfect angle to slip into your cunt.

You felt the head of his cock push at your entrance as soon as he retracted his fingers. “Such a perfect little slut. You want to take both our cocks, sweetheart?”

You whined, hoping he would just fuck you already.

Jeff gripped around your throat, his voice coming out in a low growl. “I want an answer. Tell me you want both our cocks in you, fucking slut.”

Toby lifted your chin. “Look at me while you say it.”

It was absolutely humiliating having to admit that you were this greedy for both of them, but it only made you want it more. “I want… both… inside.”

Toby’s eyes went almost hazy, dazed with lust. “Gott, du bist so verdammt süß, wenn du auf meinem Schoß sitzt.” He whispered against your lips before hungrily kissing you as Jeff slowly started to push himself into your cunt.

It was unlike anything you had felt before, the feeling was so overwhelming you felt like coming just from having them both inside.

“See? I knew you could take both, just like a good fucking slut.” Jeff groaned into your ear, holding onto your waist and slowly pulling back before pushing into you again.

Your mind had gone offline, only able to focus on the overwhelming sensation in your cunt and the hands all over your body.

Toby’s hands gripped around your hips again, holding you tightly as he started to rock you in time with Jeff’s thrusts. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, leaning into Toby as he slowly laid back on the hood of the car, pulling you down with him.

You could easily see on his face how good it felt for him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were completely dazed as he stared at you. The intensity of the eye contact combined with the sensory overload was enough to make you climax again, not even able to really squeeze around their cocks with how much you were stretched, but it still had you shaking and whining.

“God… you’re taking us so well, sweetheart.” Jeff was pulling you down onto his cock even harder. “Gonna fill your pretty pussy up with so much cum.”

You were so pliable in their hands, allowing them to move you in anyway they wanted. The pleasure wracked through your whole body, making your muscles go limp.

Toby’s brain seemed to have come back online, finally adjusting to the tightness of having both of them inside. He got a sick grin on his face when he saw just how fucked out you looked. “I’m gonna break you.” He said breathlessly, before moving a hand off your hip to press on your clit.

It was then that you swore you could see your life flash before your eyes. You were going to die, death by orgasm. You collapsed fully on to Toby’s chest, giving Jeff an even better angle to fuck you. You came so hard you swore you could actually see stars.

“Fuck.” You heard Jeff curse, his thrusts getting more sporadic before feeling the warmth fill your cunt.

For just a moment, everything was still. The only sound was the overlapping panting of you three. You squeaked as Jeff slowly pulled out of you. Despite the loss, you still felt so full with Toby inside.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” Toby almost growled in your ear. He gripped your hips and lifted you up off of him. You whined at the loss of him before you even registered how embarrassed you should be for whining at such a thing.

He quickly flipped you over on your back, like you were weightless. “C’mon, don’t whine. I just want a better angle now that I don’t have to share.” He harshly thrusted into you without warning, with an obscene gushing sound from Jeff’s cum still in your cunt. You gasped sharply from just how harsh and sudden it was.

“That was mean wasn’t it?” Toby asked you, cruelly. He was mumbling more to himself, “Ich kann dir nicht widerstehen, wenn du so wehrlos für mich bist.”

You finally noticed that Jeff had sat down next to you on the hood when he turned your chin towards him. “Be a good girl and clean me off?”

You opened your mouth, licking his half-hard cock clean of his cum and your juices. You moaned over his cock as Toby gripped your hips hard, drilling into your g-spot.

“Does it feel good when he fucks my cum into you?” Jeff taunted you, looking right into your eyes as you continued to lick his cock as best you could while you were completely fucked out.

Toby was getting more breathless, a series of groans coming from him. “Du bist so verdammt süß, wenn du so wehrlos unter mir liegst.”

Feeling satisfied with your job, Jeff pulled back, allowing Toby to fully focus on filling you with a second load. He pushed one of your legs back to your chest and leaned forward, fucking deep into you. “You want me to come? Huh? You want me to fill you up again?”

“Fuck…! Please…!” You were so close, desperate for just a little bit more.

Toby bit your neck hard, a half groan half growl ripping out of his throat as he came deep inside. The pain was just enough to send you over the edge, your cunt milking every last drop from him.

He kept his head buried in your neck and muttered something. “Ich kann dich nicht einfach davonkommen lassen.”

—

It was cold, your breath puffed out in front of you as you walked along the sidewalk, the streetlights barely enough to illuminate your path. You shoved your hands into your hoodie pockets, they had started to get red from the cold.

One of the flyers on the telephone pole caught your eye, strangely illuminated in the sea of papers stapled to the pole.

Your own smiling face stared back at you. The word “missing” written in big letters at the top, with a physical description of you written right under. The text at the bottom listed where you were last seen and where your car was found.

You stared at it for what felt like forever.

“Getting distracted, sweetheart?” Jeff asked, tilting your chin towards him.

Toby grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him and away from Jeff. “C’mon -fuck- pretty girl. We got places to be.” He jerked his head to the side.

“Pfft. You two are always the same.” You smiled, walking along with them.

Okay so btw, back when I wrote another Toby fic (which I will post later) I did some research to make my characterization more accurate. So according to the users of reddit, for the most part tics will subside during sex, so I wrote it that way here. Just wanted to clarify that I didn’t just forget to write his tics halfway through.

Hope you enjoyed~

[tune-on-in-folks]

Angry Sex with Ex!Vox? They’re both secretly still pining for each other but are too stubborn to admit it so it builds up until one day they’re fighting and it snaps and smut ensues??

BEHOLD, I HAVE RETURNED. Just two weeks late as to when this should have been posted on the 18th of October. For some reason this prompt killed me, and in my brain I wasn't allowed to write anything else until this was done. Well it's done! So, let's all ignore the fact that it's November.

Thank you, anonny, for this prompt, it's a good one, I apologize it took so long. (Also I'm posting this now so I don't try to rewrite this. This version is the fifth rewrite.) Haha! I hope you enjoy~ :D

Tags/Warnings: Smut, P in V sex, fingering, fem!receiving multiple orgasms, angry sex, arguments, sex as punishment kinda?, dub-con for that reason solely, squirting, possessive Vox, jealous Vox. Word Count: 2,988

Vox was insufferable.

It had been two months since the two of you had broken up. You had grown tired of being second best to his company, to the Vees. You were his partner, his lover. Why did you always get overlooked? Why did you always have to fight him just to get him to go on a date with you? It had happened enough that you had started wondering if he actually loved you. Or if you were nothing more than an excuse and a convenient fuck. So you had broken up with him.

He had broken your heart, but you still fucking loved the man. Worse than that, you missed him. It didn’t help that you were surrounded by reminders of him daily. You woke up everyday in your VoxTek issued employee apartment, put on your uniform that had his symbol on it, and had to preach about his products and company day in and day out. You had tried quitting, tried getting another job. But every attempt was moot because he was the one who had the say if you stayed or went. Instead, he had made certain that you would always have to report to him personally. Which you hated. Because he consistently made it a point to argue with you, to try and guilt you because you had left him.

 Vox was hurt. In fact that was an understatement, he had been absolutely gutted when you had broken up with him. You had marched into his office two months ago, told him you were tired of being second to his company and that you were done. He had laughed, because you couldn’t possibly be serious. But you had been, and he realised it that night when he had come home to an empty apartment, all of your belongings gone. He had been a wreck privately for days afterward. Two months later, he missed you and as much as he denied it, he still loved you. He had spent the last month reflecting on why you had left, taking everything you said in your near daily fights, into account. A part of him still wanted you, the part of him that still loved you. But the other part of him, that was angry and hurt, wanted nothing more than for you to suffer. Especially when he caught wind of the fact that you had a date tonight. Which is why he called you up to his office, using your latest report as an excuse.

He sat up when you entered, pushing down the excitement he felt whenever he saw you. You had broken his heart, why it still beat for you, he didn't know.

He says your name softly, before clearing his throat. “Your latest report is absolute garbage.”

It wasn't.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you lean your weight on one leg. Great, he was picking a fight immediately. 

“No the fuck it isn't. That's the same format I always use. The one you said you like.” You sigh, rubbing your face, already expecting a bad argument, “Seriously, Vox, what's the real reason I'm here?”

You were certain he had caught wind of the fact that you had a date tonight. Which was precisely the reason you didn't want to be having a conversation with him. You were trying to move on, that's what you told yourself at least. But the truth was that you had no interest in your poor date. Your heart still beats for Vox and only him, regardless of if you wanted it to or not.

He leans back in his chair, his expression hardening. “I heard you have a date tonight.”

Ah, so he had heard, at the very least he didn’t deny that was the real reason he’d called you up.

“Yes I do, actually-”

“Cancel it.” He cuts you off.

A baffled laugh escapes your lips. “Excuse me?”

“I said cancel. It.” He growls, eyes meeting yours as he leans forward.

You shake your head, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, sure, let me just cancel my date because my boss said so… Go fuck yourself.”

You turn away from him, intent on leaving. You didn’t have the energy to have another fight, to push down what you truly wanted to say. Vox’s brows furrow, his left eye gaining the black spiral, betraying his rising anger. Sparks of electricity arc off him.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation, so don’t you even think about leaving. What do you see in this guy anyway? He’s undeserving of you.” He hisses, his eyes never leaving you once.

You turn back around scoffing, “So are you! You never deserved me, Vox. So no, I will not ‘cancel’ my date just because you’re pissy I’m moving on.”

You take long strides towards his desk, slamming your hands down against the surface as he grits his teeth. You were in too deep now, the words had already started and you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop until you were completely burnt out.

“I broke up with you, I’m moving on, let me go and stop perpetuating this.” You meet his gaze head-on, steeling yourself against the anger in his eyes. “I. Don’t. Love. You.”

A flicker of hurt flashes in his expression but it’s gone in an instant. “You expect me to believe that? That you don’t love me?”

You break eye-contact. You were angry and hurt, but you’re unable to keep looking him in the eye as you force yourself to lie. “I don’t. Haven’t in months, why do you think I broke up with you?”

He laughs in disbelief, but you can hear the sadness. He considers your words, wondering if they were true. Had you fallen out of love with him months before you even broke up?

“Months?” There’s disbelief in his voice when he finally speaks, but underlying it is a fear that it was true.

“Months.” You confirm ruthlessly, the words spilling from you, “Why would I love a man who makes no time for me? Who lies to me, makes excuses, and gives me empty apologies?”

You begin to pace, ignoring the lights flickering around you both. You were accustomed to his powers messing with the power whenever the two of you bickered. He stands up, approaching you with every word you speak.

“Every missed date, it was another half-assed reason why you couldn’t make it! About why your company was more important than me, why you had to be at work instead.” You rant. “I eventually stopped trying. It was easier than having to feel the sting of disappointment-”

Your voice catches in your throat, the emotion hitting you full force. You hadn’t stopped for a moment in the last two months to sit and process your feelings after you had left Vox.

Swallowing, you force yourself to finish your thought, “As once again, I wasn’t important enough!”

“Not important enough?” He growls, “Of course you were fucking important! You were always more important than my fucking company! But I was working because I wanted you to never have to work another day in your after-life. I was doing it for you! For us!”

You laugh, tears spilling down your cheeks, the warmth of them startling you. “Yeah, real fucking nice of you, Vox. I didn’t want or need that. What I wanted, what I fucking needed, was the man I loved!”

You take another step back as he continues to advance on you. “But what could I expect from a man married to his job? I doubt I was even a thought in your head. Did you ever even love me?-”

Your back hits the wall, expelling the air from your lungs as he slams his hands above your head, boxing you in. There’s genuine anguish on his face at your words.

His voice is low and dangerous, “Don’t you ever question that I loved you, doll. I loved you with all my heart and soul. I still love you.”

He doesn’t give you anytime to respond, crashing his lips down against yours in a bruising kiss. He kisses you like a man starved, desperation evident in every moment. He moves his hands to your waist, dragging you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You whimper, feeling the walls you had meticulously built around your heart shatter in an instant. With his mouth on yours, his body pressing against you, you could almost forget how hurt you had been. Could almost pretend that everything was okay, that neither of you had hurt each other. But the truth was ugly, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Vox..” You pant, eyes fluttering close as he trails kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at your skin.

He squeezes your waist, his grip hard enough to hurt. You can feel the anger simmering underneath the surface of his body, can feel it in the way he’s tensed. You can tell with how the lights continue to flicker around you both. He slides a hand to your ass, squeezing hard, his claws bite into your skin, drawing blood. He grinds against you, pressing his growing arousal against your stomach.

“I’m going to make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” He growls.

It’s a threat that you take seriously even as it sends heat pooling between your legs. He grabs your skirt, tightening his grip around the material and pulling. The sound of it tearing meets your ears before it falls to the floor in tatters, exposing your cyan panties to him. A pair he had gifted you.

His eyes flash with anger, the room suddenly plunging into darkness, save his face. “You were wearing these for that fucker, weren’t you?”

His claws slice through your panties, causing you to gasp.

“Vox, no, I-” You try, a whimper escaping you as he slices through your shirt, exposing the matching bra.

“You thought you could just wear a set I gifted you for someone else?” He shredded the bra in turn. “Well now you can’t.”

You groan, anger flooding you anew. “You asshole! That was my fav-”

His fingers slip between your thighs, rubbing against your clit harshly, cutting you off. He slips two fingers inside your already dripping entrance.

“So wet already.” He mutters, “You really were expecting to get fucked tonight, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t, actually.” You gasp, rolling your hips down against his hand.

It had been months since he had kissed you, had touched you. His touch on you felt electric, your body responding readily. He curls his fingers up against your g-spot, massaging the spot with barely contained anger. His thumb presses into your clit roughly, each touch against it in time with the increasing speed of his fingers pumping into you. You can feel your pleasure growing, the coil in your gut winding tighter with every passing moment.

“Yeah, right.” He growls, “Look at you, you’re already about to cum.”

You whine, annoyed at the fact that he could read your body so well. Could tell by the way your walls fluttered around his fingers that you were close.

“Oh, fuck-” You cry out, your release slamming over you. “You.”

He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest as he works you through your release, reaching to free his erection. “Oh, I’m going to, babydoll.”

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he frees his cock, stroking it a few times. He groans at his own touch, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He spins you around, pressing your chest against the wall as he lines his cock up with your entrance. He doesn’t wait, slamming his cock into you forcibly. You cry out at the burn of his cock stretching you. Your body tries to pull away from him as he drags you down onto his length. But you can’t deny how good it feels to have him back inside you.

“Fuccck.” He groans, rolling his hips into you, pressing deeper. “So fucking tight. Your pussy was made for me and only me.”

He pulls out slowly only to sharply thrust back into you, setting a bruising pace immediately. Your moans fill the air, mixing with the sounds of skin against skin. The wet slap of his cock pummeling in and out of you is nearly deafening. He tightens one of his hands around your hip, holding you in place as he reaches for your neck. He pulls you from the wall, forcing you to arch your back, his hand squeezing around your neck tightly. He grunts, feeling your walls flex around his cock. You close your eyes, whimpers falling from your mouth as he continues pounding into you. The coil of pleasure was wound tightly in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Please.” You choke out, tears biting the corners of your eyes.

You were so close and he knew it. He shifts his hips slightly, hitting your g-spot over and over. His mouth brushes against your ear, his hand around your throat tightening.

“Look at you.” He growls, “So desperate for my cock, so desperate to cum.”

You reach for his hand around your throat, clawing at his skin as he cuts off your airways. He loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to catch your breath. His pace never falters, his balls slapping against your clit with every punishing thrust.

“What will your date say when you show up dripping with my seed?” He growls, sliding his hand from your waist to rub your clit.

You whimper, focusing on your pleasure, on the fact that you were right on the precipice of your release. He grunts from the effort of his pace, his cock twitching inside you as his own release grows closer.

“Cum for me, babydoll.” He commands, “Let me feel how much you still need me.”

“Fuck!” You scream, a particularly hard thrust from him sending you off that edge.

Your walls squeeze around his cock, your body quaking as a rush of liquid erupts from your body. Vox moans as you squirt, slamming into you roughly as he fucks you through your release. He grunts, burying himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches, ropes of hot cum flooding into your womb.

“That’s it,” He groans, “take every drop, you’re mine, all mine.”

His hand squeezes around your neck once more before falling away. He rocks his hips against you, breathing heavily as you both come down. His cock begins to soften, slipping out of your abused hole. His seed mixed with your own release runs down your legs. He steps back, releasing you. Your legs give out from underneath you at the lack of support. Just before you hit the ground, Vox scoops you into his arms, holding you close to him. 

“Damn, I’m sorry, doll.” He apologises, no anger left in his voice, only remorse as he brushes hair out of your face.

His touch is soft, no anger simmering beneath it. You meet his gaze in the low-light of his office, his seed dripping out of you.

“You know,” You whisper, your voice hoarse, “You can’t fuck me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know.” He mutters, sadness filling his eyes. “I fucked up, I took you for granted, and I hurt you. I’m truly sorry, I never meant to break your heart, doll. I know you probably won’t forgive me, but I can’t live without you. You’re everything to me and I don’t know what I’ll do if I’ve truly lost you. Please tell me, I haven’t.”

Your expression softens, as you search his gaze, finding only sincerity shining in his eyes. His apology was late, and you wished he had said it sooner. Wish he hadn’t fought you so much the last two months, but late was better than never.

“You broke my heart, Vox. My trust.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know I’m not blameless in this, but… I need you to try. I can’t be second to your company, I won’t wait around for you if all you have to offer me is empty promises.”

His heart skipped a beat, hope filling him, it wasn’t much but it was something. It was enough.

“Let me win you back.” He says quickly, “I swear to you, I will work to win back your heart, to earn your trust again. I will put you above everything else. I love you.” 

He presses a gentle kiss against your lips, pulling back to whisper, “Let me show you that.”

You take a deep breath, wondering if you were about to make a mistake, “One chance, Vox. That’s all you get. No matter how much I love you, I can’t let you break my heart again.”

He smiles, a large genuine smile that has your stomach doing flips. That was the smile you had fallen in love with.

“That’s all I need.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against yours again.

You feel a rush of warmth surround you as he teleports you both through his cameras, coming out in his suite. He carts you towards his bedroom, the bedroom the both of you had once shared. The bedroom you’d share with him again.

“Now,” He smirks, dropping you onto his bed. “I think it’s about time I make love to you.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat regardless as he crawls over you, nudging your legs apart. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a loving kiss. You didn’t know if you’d regret giving him another chance; To love you, to regain your trust, and to prove to you that you were more important than his company. But you also knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be than in his arms.

So maybe he was worth it.

[barleyo]

*licks teeth and pins u against the wall* so uh...how bout one of those big bro leon fics, *I say with a glint in my eyes*

Purist.

Big Bro! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: *quivers and covers chest nervously* w-w-well, i-i guess i could write a— a little something... *eyes shift awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with a gulp* uhm... here. i, uh, i hope you enjoy... (some of the dialogue is inspired by the 2007 movie teeth :3)

Tags: incest (brother-sister)/(daddy-daughter mentioned), coercion, dub-con, religious themes, allusion to p in v/a /no real penetration mentioned, fingering (anal and vaginal f receiving), brief mentions of previous sexual assault/abuse

Wordcount: 2.1k

You spent the entirety of your mid to late teen years obsessed with God. With purity. With salvation. Your parents dragging you and your brother, Leon, to church must've eventually struck a cord with you. Ever since the youth pastor chewed up that bubblegum and offered it around to everyone, making the point that nobody wanted a tainted 'treat,' the idea of staying untouched seemed to just click into place for you. Your body was a sacred thing, not to be touched or looked at lustfully by any man. 

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, as the great St. Augustine said. Why not swear yourself to chastity? A bond of complete celibacy, of purity, promised by you to your Lord.

Unfortunately, your big brother didn't seem to feel the same way.

Leon was your exact opposite, in the way that he couldn't spend a night alone. While you would sit in your room, reading or studying like a proper girl, the wanton sound of a random female companion of his would rip through the paper thin walls of your parent's house. Every night, or what felt like it, he would bring home a 'date,' as you called them, though, he would sooner call them 'easy sluts.' 

You weren't easy. Leon liked that about you. Every crude joke he made at your expense, wether at the dinner table or in the brief expanse of the hallway near your rooms, you shut down immediately. You were too maidenly for your own good, and unafraid to show it. Oh, he really liked it. Not like those other whores he'd snatch up on the way home, were you? His boyish, smug grins did nothing to bring you, his darling little sister, to your knees in the way it did other women your age. 

Maybe that was why he did it— bringing those girls over. He knew good and well you could hear them— hear him— through the thin walls. He could tell based on the way you looked at him with scornful eyes the morning after as he accompanied the umpteenth girl of his to the front door, tactfully kicking her out with the promise of calling her back. Of course, he did no such thing, the womanizer that he was. He'd wink at you. Taunting you. 

Maybe he did all of this to tempt you, to show you what you were missing out on. Maybe he was sending you a message. An offer? No. The more likely option was that he just liked to tease you. Yes, that seemed more 'brotherly.'

It was another night. Another sleepless night of being tormented by the lewd sounds coming from your older brother's room. You could practically hear the individual squeak of every spring in his old mattress as he used whatever girl he had with him now. You heard her muffled voice. Poor girl must've had her face pushed into the pillow. Maybe she was ugly. Leon always let the pretty ones look at him while he sexed them up— you could tell because you heard their voices much clearer in the night. 

It was nearly melodic. Hearing almost every movement between the two. You could piece it together in your mind, and before you knew it, you had your eyes tightly shut, imagining the scene.

You pictured it in more detail than you thought the Lord would be appreciative of. You saw your brother's toned back with his tapered waist, his taut muscles clenching and coated in a slick sheen of sweat as he worked his hips against a faceless girl's heat. It was a dance. You seemed to imagine it more passionate than it sounded. Where the girl next door was certainly getting pounded, your imaginary girl was being treated tender and soft. Gentle strokes accompanied by a firm grasp. 

You were yet again reminded the next day of how much different your real brother was to the version of him your mind conjured up the previous night. Not nearly as sweet, that was for sure. 

You pushed into his room, not bothering to give him the dignity of a knock. That was another thing he liked about you. For how meek and God-fearing you seemed to be, you could be a real bitch to your dear ol' brother. He found it sort of funny, the juxtaposition between how you really were and how his lackadaisical manner made you act. 

"We need to talk about your girlfriends," you said, slamming his door behind you. The breeze caused by the door made a few of his classless pin-up girl posters swish upwards, hanging on for their lives against the black walls of his room by the tiny scraps of tape he stuck them with. 

"Don't have any," Leon said casually, legs spread and arms over his chest. He tossed a baseball up and down, catching it in his palm as he leaned his head against his headboard. 

You huffed and stomped over to his bedside to snatch the baseball. He let you grab it, shooting you an amused grin as you palmed the ball far too big for your hand. 

"Well, whatever you want to call them—"

"Let's just call them whores, yeah?"

"I'm not going to call them that," you spat, eyebrows raising into your hairline. "Your 'friends.' How about that? Your 'friends' need to stop coming around. I can't live like this. I can't sleep!"

"Awh, poor thing. Your grade in 'prissy bitch' class must be dropping now. Y'fall asleep during your stick-up-the-ass exam, college girl?" he asked, nose scrunching teasingly as he eyed you. He reveled in how your offended look grew. 

"Can you take anything seriously, you ass?" You dropped his baseball to the floor and kicked it under his bed, to which he mumbled 'bitch' and an additional explicative or another under his breath. "Last night was ridiculous. I didn't get a wink of sleep. These walls aren't nearly as thick as you act like they are."

"Oh, you heard that? What, it turn you on or something?"

You stilled, arms rising back to cover your chest defensively. It didn't turn you on, per se, but it did something, that was for damn sure. You weren't about to confess that to Leon, though. Not if you had a choice. 

"No, it did not 'turn me on,' Leon. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does everything come out on instinct?"

"Instinct. So, Virgin Mary, what're you harassing me about now? You don't enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of random chicks getting smashed?"

He sat up straight, back flush to his headboard now as he turned to face you. 

You got a good look at his features. Looked a lot like your dad. Score! Perfect excuse, suddenly coming to mind.

"No, I don't. I'm sure daddy doesn't appreciate it either," you said, trying to guard yourself with the veil of your father. 

Leon snorted. "Well, I guess daddy dearest will just have to come tell me himself then, won't he? Seems like he's too drunk nowadays to hear anything," he said, voice nearing bitter territory. 

"Don't talk about dad like that," your voice taking on a more protective edge in your father's defense. "He's going through a rough time. He doesn't need your shit."

"And I don't need yours. This whole abstinence thing has your horse pretty high, you know." Leon shifted his legs over the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Most of the humor he had left in his voice had drained out, being replaced with a seriousness. "You aren't slick."

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, sis," he said, mocking tone lacing the nickname, "we both know who you're saving yourself for, and I've been real patient up until now. I'm not gonna wait forever."

You wanted to repeat yourself, you wanted to ask just what the hell he meant by that, but he interrupted your train of thought.

"You think I couldn't hear you listening like a little pervert? Hell, even before I started bringing girls home. I couldn't jerk off without seeing you peeking through the crack in my door. Like I said, you aren't slick. You act like you're all hard and saintly, but you're just a nasty pervert, aren't you?"

So many thoughts ran through your head. So many emotions. Embarrassment, for one, at the fact that he knew of your dirty secrets regarding him. Anger at how casually he was airing this information. A strange warmth, as well, at how he teased you. You should've been screaming at him, at twisting this around on him, but you couldn't. 

"I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, eyes dropping to your feet in shame. 

Leon just hummed in response, clearly not in dire need of an apology. In fact, he looked rather unfazed, like it was no problem for him at all.

"If you want to apologize, you can bring your little ass over here. Sit down, pervert."

"I don't know why you're acting so fidgety about this. You give it up to dad all the time, what's so different about me?"

Fuck. Leon really knew everything about you. This entire night was like having someone read your diary out loud to you, hearing every 'secret' you thought you had kept so well. 

"Shut up," you said, eyes clenched shut tightly as Leon curled his fingers up against your g-spot again. You bit back the urge to whine or moan. With how much he was teasing you, you didn't feel that he deserved the satisfaction. 

"Wonder what everyone would think. Daddy's good girl is good for more than she lets on, huh? Bet everyone already knows. There's no way a girl like you hasn't been taken before. Ain't a man on earth who wouldn't try it, y'know?"

You hated how that made you tighten around his fingers. Was that really what made you cum? Your brother calling you rapeable? The entire situation was so far out of your wildest imagination. A far cry from what the other girls he entertained had experienced, you were sure of that. 

Or, maybe, the way that he let your face upwards was what did it for you. Last you remembered, the rule was pretty girls faced up, ugly girls got flipped. Guess that counts for something. 

"I'm real fascinated by your pussy," Leon said after a few moments of silence. He was sitting between your legs, cock sprung free from his boxers as he kept his fingers plugged into your hole. He watched as your hole continued to kick and squeeze over his two digits. 

"I can tell. You won't stop lookin' at it," you mumbled, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your palms. 

"Not what I meant. Just meant it's pretty."

You don't know why you blushed at such a meaningless, near-objectifying compliment. A small part of you said that if Leon had seen so many in his life, and he said yours was pretty, then surely that meant something. You felt honored, in a weird way. 

"Bet it'll be even tighter around my cock."

"What? No, no, we can't do that, Leon," you said quickly, pulling away from his finger with a squelch. You tried to pull your panties up, but he stopped you. 

"Who says?"

You thought about it. You wanted it, sure. Really bad, actually. So, who says? Who said that you couldn't take a brief pause from chastity? You quickly told yourself what you said each time your father got a little too drunk a little too late a night and missed your mother a little too much. 

"Just be gentle," you said, exactly how you would on the nights where you looked a little too much like your mother. 

"Don't worry."

You expected to feel his cock swab against your folds. You expected to feel the eerily familiar pinch and stretch of being penetrated, but it didn't come. Your walls clenched almost eagerly around nothing. 

Instead, your eyes widened in shock at the feeling of a finger trailing around your asshole. Leon aimed his head forward and spat a fat glob onto your rim, rubbing it around to coat your hole. 

"Wait— Leon! Don't do that," you whined, feeling him finger sink in and stretch the ring of muscle. 

"You aren't a true-virgin anywhere else, sis. I wanna pop this cherry before someone gets to it before I do."

God, he was cruel. What was crueler was the way he prodded another finger into your hole like it was nothing. At least he had the awareness to spit again, coating the middles of his fingers in an attempt to ease the pain in your end. It worked, as well as spit could. 

His head dipped down and his tongue latched to your clit, giving it a few purposeful sucks before pressing a kiss to it too, piercing eyes looking at you from between your thighs. 

"Besides, anal doesn't really count, right? Isn't that what all you pure-not-so-pure girls say?"

[a-b-riddle]

Different Tastes: John & his Sweetheart

The '141' stops as soon as they are back home. After that, they are just close friends. Simon, John, Kyle and Johnny had managed to settle down and find themselves sweet little things. All who adore their brave men and all who share different tastes

In this 'series', it's essentially bits of each of the 141 one and their kinks they have with their partners. With that being said, I don't really care if you think that Soap is submissive or Ghost is into CNC/Primal play. That's great. But in this fantasy, this is what it is. It's what I wanted to write. If you want Kyle Garrick to be a pleasure Dom and John to be a Daddy Dom. Cool. Go find other fictions that write that, or be the one to write them. I'm not going to argue about what kinks they would really have.

CW: NSFW. aniligus on male and female anatomy. D/s dynamics. Name calling. Degradation. Oral. Humiliation. Aftercare. Mentions of pornography. Not establishing safe-words. Poor understanding of establishing BDSM boundaries too late. (Not in a non-con way. But two people who don't really have prior experience to BDSM).

MINORS DNI

John and his girl are perfect for each other. For his career, it's very difficult to turn the Captain mode 'off'. He's used to giving orders and taking control over situations. It had been a problem in all of his previous relationships.

So when he found you, his perfect girl, he would have moved the moon if it meant making you happy. Add into the fact that you did like to switch your brain on autopilot and let John control mostly everything, it worked out well for both of you.

Where do you want to eat tonight?

What do you think I should wear?

I'm getting kind of sick of my hair? What do you think? Longer, shorter? Darker? Lighter?

You always relied on his opinion and followed it.

John couldn't get enough. You never got sick of hearing his thoughts and opinions. You didn't get pissed when he gave you what sounded very much like an order. To you it was John being John. He didn’t simply stop being a Captain when he wasn’t in the field and you were content with that. Liked it even.

But soon enough his bossing around had taken you both down a slippery slope. You had always wanted to explore BDSM and each order in your everyday life made you fantasize about John as a Dominant. Your sex life with John was already fantastic and he always took the lead anyway. So it felt only natural to add-in some kinkier aspects. John wasn't opposed to tying you up. Dishing out occasional discipline when you did something wrong until you ultimately admitted you hated it.

You felt when he 'punished' you, you disappointed him. John's palms started to itch when you confessed that you would much rather him spank you simply because he wanted to. So he did. Whenever he pleased. Often bending you over the counter and giving you a few swats. Your pussy already dripping for him by the time he was finished.

Deeper and deeper you dove down to more than just tying you up and spanking your ass until your juices practically leaked down to your thighs. Service submission had been what you liked the most. If John told you to be on your knees when he got home with a whiskey neat in one hand and a plate of food in the other, you did it.

When you told him this, he started casually mentioning what kind of wedding ring styles you liked.

Eventually you admitted you like being degraded.

"I know you love me," you said one night. Lazily sitting on the couch with John after a dinner date with Kyle and his girlfriend. "And respect me." Butterflies fluttered uncomfortably in your stomach. You didn’t want John to think you liked being abused per se, but this is something you’ve wanted to try with him for so long. "but I don't always need to feel like I’m respected during sex."

John didn't pull his arm off of you as he turned to face you better. His head tilting to the side when he asked you to elaborate. You felt your cheeks heat up as you told him how you wanted him to treat you like a toy. That during a scene, you wanted to feel like he had total control over your body. You could outline actions and phrases you were okay with if it made him feel better about doing it. Even developing safe words.

There hadn't been a need for safe words up until this point. If you asked John to stop, he stopped. If you complained about something hurting, he still stopped and either readjusted, or ended the scene. But this time you confessed that you didn't want ‘no’ to be an option. No felt like you weren't being his good girl. You knew it didn’t make you bad for stopping but it just helped in some weird way you couldn’t quite explain.

He agreed. First came the colors. Then the limits. And most importantly, the fantasies.

After that John finally admitted that he wanted to try anal play on you since you didn't list it as a limit. He’s always fantasized about it, but he had always felt uncomfortable asking you. At first you thought he simply meant a finger up your ass. Some poking and prodding that led up to anal.

However, with the new found confidence to truly divulge his desires to you. John laid it all out.

Price knows what he likes and he absolutely loves worshipping any part of you he can get his hands or mouth on.

The first time he ate your ass it quite literally stole your breath. He had you bent over his desk; his scattered reports long forgotten. You had just gotten home from work. He heard the opening and shutting of the door before grabbing his phone. He had texted you to come into his office in 30 minutes.

Your outfit is on the bed. I’m in my office. Bring me a drink. Daddy feels like drinking some whiskey and eating a peach.

That was your signal. You were a nervous fucking wreck as you got ready.

Before you knew it, he had you bent over with two fingers in your cunt, rubbing that sweet spot while his tongue explored a place no one else ever had.

Months laters, neither of you were no longer shy about John taking you however he wanted. Whether that was hogtied with your ass in the air or you humping his boot when he ordered you to show him how much of a desperate little slut you were.

He loved seeing you so desperate for him. He was obsessed in the way you tensed when he had you bent over. Licking a long stripe from your clit all the way to your puckered hole before settling there.

What was once an occasional thing became a weekly occurrence.

As expected, the two of you eventually tried anal after realizing how good his tongue felt in your ass. The first time he fucked your ass he spent what felt like forever working his thick fingers inside of you before finally working your way up to take his cock. He refused to have such an intimate first thing be in any sort of scenario where he wasn't soft and loving. If you wanted it to be degrading, it would just have to wait.

John was a stern man, but he took care of you. This wasn't something that would be initially pleasant for you and he was damned and determined to make this a good experience by the end of it.

Because of the lack of pressure he put on you to just take it, you had loved it. Even craved it now. You loved when he called you a pathetic little whore after you followed his order of bending over and spreading your ass cheeks for him. You loved when he told you how pretty you looked before landing a glob of spit on your puckered asshole. You loved how he made you beg him to fuck your ass when it was that time of the month; that you were so desperate for his cock you will take it in any hole.

But funny enough, as much quality time John seemed to have with your asshole, you can't really remember if you've ever seen his. Sure, you’ve seen his bare ass sauntering around the house and in the shower, but he’s never been in a compromising position while naked.

Even funnier, you're not sure if you've ever really seen a guy's asshole. So down the rabbit hole of pornhub you went until you found what eating ass was also known as.

Rimming.

And more importantly, how men were rimmed. Your curiosity had eventually grown to wondering what it was like. What would it be like?

So you just asked him.

At first he laughed, assuming you were joking. But then you shamelessly admitted to finding it hot. You confessed how the porn you’ve been watching had pretty much centered around male worship. Although the underarm area and feet were usually something you skipped over, seeing women on their knees giving rimjobs was something that made your core ache when you thought about doing it with John.

To say he was flustered was an understatement. He tried to dissuade you. Insisting that it was, well, gross were his exact words. When a flash of hurt crossed your face he realized his mistake.

It wasn’t that he thought the act itself was gross per se. He felt as though he was gross. "Too gross to let a pretty little thing like you do that." Yet it didn’t deter you from showing him how much you wanted him.

With a little bit of assurance that it’s something you wanted to do, not just reciprocate what he had been doing, he relented. Although, having you on your knees, hump his boot practically begging to with tears in your eyes did make him believe you actually wanted this. John loved when you begged him, but always felt the need to tell you yes when he wasn't serving as your dominant.

Yes. John loved taking charge, but he hated telling you no when you hardly ever asked for anything.

So. It was a safety measure John and you had put into place. When you wanted something that he may say no to because he felt as if it would degrade you as a partner, you didn’t ask as his partner; you asked as his submissive. This put in the acknowledgment that he wasn't making the decision as a partner. John was going to do what he thought best, whether or not you agreed to it. You always set the precent, gave him the permission to be the one to make the decisions. It showed him that you trusted him and whatever he decided.

John always felt more freely when you had gotten in your sub space. He felt more confident in telling you no or giving you orders. He had spent so long being the one to call the shots in his career, he was always afraid of his domineering nature taking control in the relationship.

Your confidence in him meant everything.

He had just gotten home from an extended stay on base. Usually you were able to get a facetime or a call here and there, but besides the occasional texts you were met with radio silence for almost five days.

It wasn't until he came home Saturday just before lunch. You had snacked all day, suddenly feeling guilty you hadn't even gotten groceries for the week. You offered to order something when he told you he hadn't eaten lunch, but he declined.

"C'mere, sweetheart." He ordered pointing right at his boots. A soft smile played on his lips as you sank down to your knees and crawled over to him. John took a deep breath. Reminding himself he can't fuck you right now. Not when he finally built up the courage to do what he was about to do.

“I need to freshen up." He said, squatting down until he was almost eye level with you. "Open." He ordered. Without hesitation, you opened your mouth, tongue out prepared to let him do whatever he wanted. He gently grabbed your tongue, holding it between his thumb and finger before giving it a light squeeze. Drool already slipping out of your mouth. "When I get out of the shower, I expect you to be in our room, on all fours with this pretty little tongue to worship me. Understand, sweetheart?"

Your eyes widened as you felt your core involuntarily clenching around nothing. Fuck. This was so hot. Fuck. This was happening. It was happening.

John stood at his full height before heading to the master bedroom. You waited until you heard the clicking of the door before practically sprinting behind him.

You sat on your knees, anxiously listening to the sound of the running water from the bathroom. You wondered how he would discuss it. Both of you played out possible scenarios and weeded out ones you were absolutely not okay with doing.

One scenario you agreed on was you laying on your back with your head hanging off the bed. John would face fuck you for a bit before he got into a sixty-nine position. He would have the view of you playing with your greedy little pussy. You would lap at him like a pathetic whore while he stroked his cock before he finally came all over your tits.

One thing John didn't feel comfortable doing was simply bending over on his hands and knees. Hiking up a leg, sure. But something about the position made him feel vulnerable and he just didn't want to try it.

Waiting patiently by the foot of the bed. On your hands and knees like a good girl, you head the water shut off.

Fresh out of the shower, John walked over to you before sitting down on the bed. You waited for his order. Never jumping the gun and simply taking him the moment he waved his cock in front of your face.

He spread his thighs apart, letting his limp cock hang near the edge of the bed. "Put my cock in your mouth, but don't suck. Just want you to warm him up a bit." You immediately take him in your mouth without hesitation. Loving the way you feel his cock slowly harden.

You maintain eye contact, trying hard not to move your tongue. Fighting every urge to start sucking and being a good little whore. When he finally give you permission, he still sets the pace. His hand firm on the back of your neck.

"Go at your own pace, sweetheart." He said, kissing your forehead. "Just remember," He reminded, his voice still gentle. "Mo fingers and stop if you need to, yeah?" You nod, remembering that he's doing this for you.

He scooted down further on the bed before laying on his back. Legs spread.

You weren't really sure where to start. So you just started slow. Built up to the same way John did to you when he was the one licking your ass. You started with soft kisses. Letting your teeth graze over the skin of his thighs, getting closer and closer to where you wanted to be.

You felt him stiffen as you got closer. You gave a soft kiss before waiting for him to tell you to stop.

He doesn't.

You continue.

You start soft. Closing your eyes and licking and mouthing at his asshole like you were making out with it.

"Fuck." You hear him curse, but he doesn't tell you to stop.

"Can I please rub my pussy, Sir?" You asked, your hands aching to touch your wet cunt.

"Yes." He granted, his hand starting to slowly stroke his cock. "But you still need permission to cum." He reminded before closing his eyes and letting you continue.

With low curses and gasps falling from his mouth you became more and more enthralled. Your face pressing harder and harder against him. Trying to get your tongue as deep inside him as you possibly could.

The humiliation of it all making you feel already so close to falling over the edge. Your fingers rubbed methodical circles around your clit as you began mindlessly nodding your head along, tongue sticking out; lapping at his asshole like the stupid little bitch you were.

“You like that, huh? Licking me like the dirty little slut that you are." He said, knowing that was something you wanted to be told.

“Yes, Sir." You admitted, only breaking away briefly to answer him before resuming servicing him.

“Damn fucking right.” He growled out. "That's my good little whore. Worshipping my fucking asshole." His words made you clench around nothing. Making you wish you had asked to use a dildo or the fucking machine instead.

Next time. You thought.

"Can-fuck-" He pants tugging harder at his cock, his orgasm building. "Can I push your head, sweetheart?" It wasn't something the two of you had went over, but he wanted to be sure. During blowjobs were fine, but you had never done this before.

"Yes! Please!" You pant out before feeling his hand grab a hold of the back of your head and pulling you deeper into him.

You manage to spit, making it sloppier, wetter. Easier for you face to glide and knowing it probably felt better for him too. It's not too long before Price finds himself grinding pathetically against your face. "Fuck, sweetheart." He pants. "Fuck that feels so good."

You could barely breathe. Your mouth too busy lapping away at his asshole to bother breathing. Your nose pressed too hard against his taint to get any air. You decided if this is how you die... well, you wouldn't hate it. Hard

"Can I cum? Can I cum?" You repeated. Your voice muffled, but John knew what you wanted.

"Cum, but don't you fucking stop." He ordered. His grip tightening, legs beginning to tense. "I'm so close. Don't stop, sweetheart."

You kept going. Your jaw beginning to become sore as you kept going. Not even stopping when you felt John's body shake. Not stopping when your own orgasm took hold of you. Tears falling from the intensity of it all.

Not stopping when you heard him release a string of curses and praises. Not stopping when you felt his cum landing on the top of your head. Only slowing when he began to relax. Only stopping until he finally pulled you away.

You sat on your heels. Hands placed on your thighs. Waiting for him to look up at you. You were in position just waiting for fall apart. Trying so hard to be his good girl.

Finally he collected himself enough to manage to sit up. He looked down at you, marveling at the sight.

Mascara smeared. Face covered in spit. His cum now dripping from your head down to your face. Fuck, you looked beautiful.

Fuck.

Your hair.

Was that something you agreed on doing?

Fuck.

You had both agreed on him coming in you, on your face, tits, pussy or ass. Hell, you even agreed to lick it off of him or if any of it fell onto the hardwood. But you never went over if coming in your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart." He apologized, swiping at a string of cum on your eye brown, threatening to make its' way into your pretty eyes. "Should have asked if your hair was okay." You smiled hazily at his concern, but honestly thought it was a little funny. This man pushed your face into his asshole while he called you filthy things and he was worried that you were concerned over a little cum in your hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" All you could do was nod as John hauled you to your feet and practically carrying you to the shower.

Tenderly, he got the oil based cleanser and began to clean your face as gentle as he could. It wasn’t methodical and not necessarily the best way, but he was too worried about rubbing your face too harshly knowing how raw it probably felt.

You didn’t care. You always marveled in the tenderness of his touch after an intense scene. Basked in his words of praise and adoration after he debased and dehumanized you. It was therapeutic. To be taken so low only to have the same man build you back up.

He spoke lowly in your ear. “Did so well for me, sweet girl.” After he ran the soft spray of water over your face, he pulled you tightly to his chest. You felt his lips press on your wet hair. “Made me feel so fucking good.”

You felt your knees weaken, but John continued to pamper you. Being sure to take extra care in washing your face again until at the remanets of your messed up make up was gone.

"You liked it?" You asked, closing in your eyes. Relishing in his touch.

"Yes, baby." He answered. "I loved it." Your chest swelled with pride. He liked it. He liked your fantasy too.

"Would you wanna do it again?" You asked, praying the answer was yes.

"I'd love that." You hummed in contentment as he turned you around, now starting on your hair.

Although John had never came in your hair before, he had learned your washing routine to the point of perfection and honestly his touch felt so much better than your own. It was a way of aftercare now, but initially he learned when you had hit a sub drop.

Neither of you knew that it even existed before it was too late. And two days after an intense scene you still hadn't washed your hair.

When he finally finished, he grabbed one of the microfiber towels you used to dry your hair. He methodically and gently squeezed out the access water before wrapping you in a huge towel. He stayed behind in the shower for only a minute to wash away your spit before joining you.

He took your hand, leading you to the sinks before turning you around to face him. You hated this part. It was when you were the most exhausted and you wanted to just crawl into bed. "Gotta dry it, Sweetheart." He said, sitting you down on the bathroom counter. "Just relax. Let me handle it."

So you did. You let John handle it. Let him have the power. It always worked out better for you anyway.

Eventually, John was satisfied and picked you back up. You were half asleep, barely holding on when he tucked you in. He pulled your back close to his chest.

It was nearing the end of your aftercare. John was scrolling on doordash, trying to find something that would be good to eat as he always did, asking for input. Sometimes you offered it. Mostly you said anything he wanted was fine. He always made sure it would be delivered after an hour. Giving you enough time to bask in the post-coital cuddles.

He continued talking. How much he enjoyed it. What he wouldn't mind trying next. Your eye were growing heavier and heavier the more he spoke. A brief moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“You know,” he started. “Johnny was mentioning something about pet play with his girl.” It wasn't surprising. The four men of the 141 weren't shy in telling the others what them and the missus had been up to in the bedroom. Even going as far as to let the girls play together, but making it a point to never share.

None of them had any interest in letting another man touch what belonged to them, but they didn't mind letting the girls indulge in a little girl time.

“Heaven knows that MacTavish needs to be collared.” You said, feeling the edges of sleep beginning to take over your vision. You tried to stifle a yawn as you spoke, to no avail while John barked out a laugh.

“Who says Johnny's the dog?” He asked.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We have officially entered another bangers only era for Japanese queer media; I am loving all of these currently airing shows. These are all streaming on Gaga or provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Our Youth

This show is killing me with the quiet yearning and the push and pull and Hirukawa's whole entire deal. The way Hirukawa and Minase keep drawing closer together before stepping back. The way they have created their own little bubble in Minase's home, and how they can't be that way together in other spaces. The way Hirukawa is so desperate to be close to Minase and Minase clearly wants it too, but doesn't really understand himself yet and so keeps rejecting it. I was so sad when Hirukawa admitted he provoked his dad on purpose so that Minase would let him back in; I hope Minase will ease off on the barriers from here on out. I know something bad is coming and I just want them to have a little bit of happiness before we get there.

Love is Like a Poison

The battle couple was tested this week as we finally found out Haruto's connection to this case with an assist from the lady restaurant owner, his past as a con artist was revealed to Shiba's employer, and Shiba's boss demanded that he cut ties. I was so very proud of Shiba when he did not waver about what is most important to him, and worried when Haruto took off and left his ring behind. I'm keeping the faith, though; I don't think Haruto is leaving Shiba.

Love in the Air Koi

Okay, first of all, let me get a scream out about that sex scene, because good god did they deliver. Nagumo Shoma is a gift to us all (I will be seeing that back roll in my dreams), and I thought their chemistry now that Rei has figured himself out was fantastic. The whole sequence from the time they left the race track was beautifully shot and performed, and the intimacy felt very real. Aside from the sex, one of the things I like most about this narrative is the belief that a relationship can be the reason you get your life together rather than a distraction from your goals. Rei has all the skills, but he's been lacking focus and drive, and that's exactly what Arashi is giving him. I really liked the way this episode weaved their different subplots together to show them both working toward something, and how their success brought them together in the end. They are good for each other! I also really loved all the Rei and Kai moments in this episode, and that Kai continues to be a perceptive and supportive friend. Kai's own story is coming soon, and we got our first glimpses of it at the end of today's episode. I'm impressed with how this adaptation has streamlined the story to cover every important beat in half the time without ever short changing the relationships.

The Fragrance You Inherit

This week Sakura was reunited with her long lost love via their scheming children, and I loved every minute. My favorite thing about this drama is the relationship writing. Sakura and Toki have such a lovely bond, and I like that he realized after surprising his mom with Mone that it may have been insensitive, and that he cared enough to check in with her about it. Sakura is also a great mom, supportive of his relationship and sensitive to his feelings even as she is grappling with her own shock at this reunion. I also really love that Sakura has such a good friend in Ryosuke (who continues to flag as queer to me). I'm excited to get to know Mone better as an adult and see where the story takes us. You can find the show here, with big thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing English subs.

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (2)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 900ish.

Warnings: none, soft Ben, OOC!Ben? idk, this is sweet.

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

PART 2

1990

The way back home was tiring to say the least. You and Ben had a weekend shopping schedule. It wasn’t the best idea John had for a funny Saturday, but you could tell he enjoyed being at the mall. He was six already, full of energy, joy, and eager to discover the wonders of the world.

From the passenger seat you moved slightly just to check on your son. He was already snoring in the back seat, drooling and sleeping peacefully as if it was his own bed. The sight of him just made you smile.

“He had a great time, huh?” Ben asked, giving you a side glance. He got better at driving after you gave birth, which you were so thankful for.

“Yeah, I mean, he’d definitely pick a baseball game instead but this is good for him,” you said back. “He’s been at home too much, don’t you think?”

“Hey, it's school break! Do you really love your kid?” Ben teased with a playful smile, you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up. All I mean is that I’d just like him to have friends and talk to other kids, do the normal kindergarten stuff… That’s all.”

Ben nodded more for himself. There have been a couple of weeks already, and he was more than happy to spend time with the little brat, but he got your point. You didn’t want him to be alone and the teacher at kindergarten had told both of you John was having some trouble with making friends and socializing in general. He was shy, but smart and creative, but even the teacher had some issues when talking to him at first. John wasn’t like that at home and it hurted you just a bit.

“Probably we should call Janine and some of the parents that were there in the last parent conference, you still have their numbers. We can do something for our kids to meet outside school,” you suggested.

“I think those moms were hitting on me,” your husband said, taking a last turn on the highway before heading home. He chuckled as low as he could when you patted his arm. You got pretty jealous at the last meeting when those ladies approached him, almost swooning. Even John’s teacher looked like she’d faint anytime. “What? I’m Soldier Boy anyway.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He parked the car outside your house after an hour of driving. There were some cons of living in the outskirts of the city, but as long as his family got the calm and green life around, driving for so long was not a problem.

You took John between your arms, careful of not waking him up. He weighed more and more each year, reminding you he wasn’t a baby anymore. He was taller, a good talker at least with you and Ben, he liked seeing the squirrels in the trees that surrounded the house, and he was very, very smart.

It felt like a day ago you gave birth to him, that he started babbling nonsense, and mere seconds that he started walking little baby steps… Now, his eyes were bright blue, his hair long and blonde, his cheeks sprinkled with freckles just like his dad…

Most of his factions were just like Ben’s mother, and she was beautiful from the old pictures he’d show you before. You were happy John was like an exact copy of her, you knew how much Ben loved her and how much her death hurted for him. John was like a reincarnation of her spirit, now sleeping in your arms.

Ben started to take out the grocery bags and some other stuff you had gotten yourself from the city, most of them puzzles, board games, and teddies John picked back there. As much as you tried to get him to reason to not buy unnecessary things, he would just spoil John a lot. But you understood why he did it. He was nothing like his father, he had time to learn how to be a better man, how to manage his own feelings and slowly, teach John to be a good man, even at his young age. You felt so proud of him, watching him discharge the bags on the kitchen counter with John clinging to you, deep in slumber, his little arms now wrapped around your neck to not let go.

When finished, Ben looked at you with a soft look on his eyes. You, holding his son, was a picture he’d never grown tired of. He would hit himself to confirm it wasn’t just a beautiful dream; it was real. You and John were very real, and he was thankful for giving up the superhero shit already. This could never compare to anything Vought offered to him before; what he built in there with you was everything he ever needed.

“I’m gonna take him to his room,” you mumbled, but before you could walk up the stairs, Ben approached you.

“I’ll do,” he announced in an equally low voice.

“You sure? I don’t want him to wake up-”

“John sleeps like a trunk, trust me,” Ben said, taking the kid softly away from your arms. John immediately wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck, hiding his face on the crook of his neck. He was so exhausted after the trip.

“Right,” you nodded. “Thanks, I love you.”

Ben gave you a charming smile, one that you never could grow tired of. He leaned down to kiss your lips softly, his new and trimmed beard tickling your skin a little.

“I’ll be here in a couple of minutes to help you,” he said.

You watched him disappear on the stairs to the second floor, John deeply sleeping in his strong arms, hugging each other.

Weekend trips like this were monotonous sometimes, but it was okay because you always came back home with your boys after all.

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves

@believeinthefireflies95 @demodemo909

[diejager]

A Fantasy

Pairing: YANDERE Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, DARK, non-con, dub-con, non-con drugging, somnophilia, creampie, possessiveness, obsessiveness, breeding, marking, blood, biting, Stockholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 9.8k

(A/N): FYI, Tracer’s (Overwatch 2) the reader’s mentor.

Requested by : @oyasumimosura

What stood before you was a great field of devastation and ruin, burned and broken buildings that used to be warm homes, lively parks that were turned to ashes, trees and plants laid wasted around dilapidated cars with broken windows and bent metal. People, young and old, laid motionless on the scarred ground, burnt black or left intact in a pool of their blood. Some were holding hands, a family, friends, a couple. Others were alone, forgotten, and left to their sad deaths.

One minute you were rushing through a portal, behind your mentor and besides your teammates, the Cavalry, as she liked to say. Rushing through fights to protect humanity and omnics and its future. The mission was like the one yesterday, the preparation, the meeting, the briefing, and the deployment, but the fate of it changed. A portal malfunctioned, it sent you elsewhere, far away and lost. This wasn't your world, this wasn't your universe, but now, you were in someone else's universe, playing their game.

The clock had struck and time felt meaningless on the battlefield, the sounds of beating aircraft blades, the booming shot of guns and the shockwaves of grenades were all people could hear. Soldiers were the only ones left, fighting against the other side - the enemy, the traitors, the terrorists - until one came out victorious.

While purposeful, the deaths and ruin of this Occidental village were regretful, families shattered, memories lost, and homes destroyed. All you could do was run around, trying to find the source of those cries you heard. A little girl's, whose tears welled for the mother she lost in the tirade of war.

The longer you ran, the closer you got to her. The girl's purple shirt and jeans were dirtied with soot and ash, dark from what was left of her village. You blinked, fazing through time and space to get to her more quickly. Rounding broken walls and jumping over fallen debris, you left a blue trail behind you, blinking your way to the crying kid.

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest when you got to her, recalling to your previous position with the girl, behind a brick wall. She clung to you, eyes red and swollen, lips bit red and her cheeks puffy. She looked like a seven-year-old child, alone, lost, and miserable without her parents or protection.

"Don't worry, love, " you used the words Tracer often used when she saved someone, her reassuring and calm voice. "I'm here."

Those zigzagging lines of light lingered in his mind, a shadow of a woman making her way through the abandoned town. The spring in her steps and the flexibility of her movements, jumping higher than any man should've been able to and changing directions so easily. She was fast, vanishing in a line of blue light and then appearing once more meters away.

Ghost saw her save a child, no older than an eight-year-old - or so he thought. A lone child on the battlefield was dangerous, a death wish for the kid if his enemies got to her first. Fortunately, the athletic woman got to the kid before anyone could, swiping her into her arms and disappearing in a blink. Seconds ago, she stood next to the pole, now all that was left was a blur of blue. She had disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

He picked at the memory constantly, powers, it seemed, were her thing, speed and agility of which no one should be able to wield, but she did and she used it to save a child. Although he admired that from a stranger, the question of her being a danger to them was still left unanswered. Whether she could be trusted or an unknown enemy that would tip the scales in the enemy's favour.

However, months later, after the war ended, there weren't any sightings of her, anywhere on earth, as if she had disappeared - again. He remembered her, though, the determined glint beneath blue goggles, her hair tied in a ponytail, flowing through the air, and her pretty lips.

She could still be in Europe, she probably was, or so he hoped. It would mean that he could run the chance of meeting her, to quench his gnawing curiosity. It would be difficult - near impossible - to find her in the millions living in Europe, but he would keep his eyes open, he had questions and he wanted answers.

He wasn't a believer per se, nor was he an atheist, he had a veto in what he put his trust and belief in. He wouldn't curse others for not believing in a God or gods, he wouldn't scoff at those who believed in them, and everyone had their rights. At this moment, however, the thought of God helping him had crossed his mind.

He had dared cross his limit, entering a small cafe - or a bistro, he wasn't sure - blocks from his flat. It was small and homely, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and tea and the place welcoming with the smiling faces of the cafe's workers.

He sat far into the shop, his back against the softness of the booth's couch, bored eyes observing his surrounding for any danger. Even off duty, the habits that ensured his safety still stuck to him, following him wherever he went.

The waitress, a young-looking woman, with striking eyes and hair pulled in a bun, walked his way. Her face looked familiar, lashes framing her pretty eyes, blushed cheeks and beautiful full lips. He knew those lips, and those eyes, and her build, short and athletic, but strong.

It was the child-saving vigilante he saw, only without her blue goggles and her tight bodysuit, blue and white that emphasized her muscles (it was probably made for usefulness, sticking to her body without any stray cloth when she ran, it made running faster and easier.). Wearing a chemise and black pants, instead of the standard skirt the other women wore, her shoes clicked as she approached him, hand pulling out a pad from her black apron's pocket.

He froze when her hand disappeared into her pocket, the items inside were unknown to him, and the content could be dangerous to him. He had to remind himself that she was a civilian at the moment, not an enemy vying for his head. She was safe, as long as she didn't attack him. He waited for her to speak, her pretty lips forming the words she wanted to tell him.

"Good morning, sir," her voice was melodic, soft and inviting. He craved hearing her speak to him with the soft lull of her tone. "Have you decided?"

Decided? What had she - you - meant by "decided"? Then he remembered he was in a cafe, people walked in to order food and drinks, to go or to eat there. He couldn't drift off like that, he couldn't disappear into the darkest depth of his mind. It was a dangerous place.

He cleared his throat, blonde lashes fluttering as he blinked, staring at your face. You were pretty. His words rumbled out, slightly muffled by his black mask: "No." He neither spoke more nor less, blunt as a hammer and sharp as a knife.

"Would you like more time to decide?" You were polite, smiling at him although his only spoken words were brash. He didn't want you to go yet, he just found you, heard and spoke to you,

"Anything you- uh... you recommend?"

You perked up at his question, seeing a more approachable change in him. Your smile widened, brighter than before as you listed off the menu by heart. Your optimism reminded him of Johnny's, expressively happy and grinning. The cafe - Ma's cafe, he learned from you - had its famously brewed tea latte, a mixture of earl grey and vanilla latte.

He took your recommendation, and you left with a skip, apron bouncing with each step. He watched you walk behind the counter, shuffling around with cups and the machine - he thought it was a coffee machine, those with pre-made coffee in its tank - meticulously, knowing well what he ordered.

You came back minutes later with a smoking mug filled with a milky brown liquid. It was fitting its name - London fog - with the white swirls that mimicked the fog that filled the cool, morning air until early evening when the sun started heating everything.

"Thank you...?" Ghost tried, wanting to know your name, you didn't have a tag on your apron.

You gave him your name with the smile you gave everyone, a customer service kind of smile that would assure that you wouldn't get any complaints about your service. He repeated your name a few times in his mind, memorizing every syllable and the way it sounded so well.

He wanted to repeat your name, whisper it lowly, but he had to make sure you were farther away from him, or you'd hear him obsessively call you. It rolled off his tongue amazingly, a perfect symphony with his deeper, raspy voice. He'll get to know you better, he planned on visiting more often, to learn your schedule and watch over you.

He pushed every intrusive thought back, bringing the mug to his lips (he had pulled down his mask to drink). It was sweet, slightly bitter from the coffee, but sweet nonetheless, perhaps a bit too sugary. He savoured the drink you made him, breathing the warm aroma of your mix. You'd made it, you had it, and served it. It was made for him, with your care and smile.

Ghost came by the next week, wearing the same black hoodie and dark jeans. He sat at the same booth and waited for you to walk by with the same smile as the prior week. You did, eyes wide with recognition when you caught him staring at you from the corner booth. You made your way to him with a grin, clad in a similar uniform and a serving tray under your arm.

"You came back," your calming voice reached his ears, giving him something to cling to in the cafe.

He liked habits, familiar things and usual occasions, but he hated the new and the unknown. They were dangerous, and deadly in his line of work. You expressed your gratitude at the tip he left you, way over the usual price other usual clients would.

"I never got your name."

He hadn't given you his name? That's right, he didn't for fear of people finding out his true identity, a broken man hidden under the mask of a monster - a Ghost. Trust issues stacked with insecurities and his introverted tendencies had made forming relationships much harder, making friends complicated with the backlash of his many blunt comments and irritated huffs, and letting people in from the fear of being betrayed, backstabbed, beaten and abandoned.

You were a vigilante, you saved a girl, you smiled at him and greeted him like you would a friend. You didn't shy away, nor freeze at the mere sight of him. You were new, but you were good - or so he thought you were. To him, you could be the achieved unachievable, a friend made from dust, a relationship formed from miracles and normalcy.

He blinked, mumbling lowly his name, low enough that it only reached your ears. You cocked your head downward, your smile widening as you repeated his name.

"Nice to see you again, Simon. I'm happy to see you again."

He nearly shuddered from hearing his name roll off your tongue, so melodically spoken. He wants to hear you call his name again and again and again, as many times as you could until he got sick of it (he probably wouldn't, he was already addicted to the way you spoke).

He dozed at your words, that you were glad he came back. He was glad too. He wanted to come by the day after his first visit, but it would seem too strange, perhaps dangerous to see him every day at the same spot, at the same time of day. He was a man of schedules, organized and neat planning.

He figured he would start by buying once a week for a month or two, then change it to twice a week for the following months, until seeing him every day would become the norm for you. He would kickstart the routine and make it a usual appearance in your life. He would make *him* a usual appearance in your life.

"Same as last time, Simon?"

God, he loved hearing you say his name. He simply nodded, he would make it his usual, a hut sweet, but enough to drown the bitterness in his soul.

The leaves turned darker, shrivelling and dropping dead to the ground. The mellow sky grew gloomy, and colder with each passing day until it dropped so low that Ghost had to wear a thicker jacket over his usual hoodie. Autumn was at an end and winter crawled ever so closer.

He was back from deployment, on a temporary leave to "relax and diffuse" as Laswell said. Everyone was back home, Price with his cigar and Nik, Gaz back home with his girlfriend, Soap with his rowdy family of seven and Roach went home to open arms and warm welcomes from his parents.

Ghost only had an empty apartment - or he used to, he moved to a house on the quieter side of town - and the cute, dazzling waitress that served at Ma's cafe. That's where he was going, he texted you before he left, letting you know that he was back and ready for a hot cup of London fog and brunch.

You read his message, replying with a "Copy that, Lieutenant". It became a running joke between you after he told you about his work, nothing classified or too detailed, but enough to let you know he was built to fight and survive.

The bell rang when he pushed the door, seeing you peer out of the kitchen once he stepped in. He was hit with a warm embrace, the cafe's heater worked well, warming the place and making it cozy enough to eat with only a t-shirt on. He gave you a nod, finding his way to his usual spot, the one he sat at for the past months.

How many months have passed since he first stumbled here? He couldn't remember everything became a blur when it was associated with you. His moments with you were warmer and calmer than at the start. You opened up to him, walls crumbling down and letting yourself build something out of it: a friendship with Ghost.

He liked being friends - for now. He had plans to make a move, to push farther, into unknown territory and try his luck. He had a feeling you'd say yes, he loved you so much and you showered him with adoration and smiles, you had to be in love with him, no? Of course, you were, he wasn't delusional, he was of sound mind, careful.

"Welcome back, Simon," you strut to him so casually, the same clothes, the same smile. "How was your deployment? Soap and Roach got into any trouble?"

He spoke fondly of his TF, they were his family, and he felt proud when he talked about them to you. He invited them once, and they all loved you as much as he did, you were sociable and easy to talk to. Though Price and Soap had the biggest effect on you, they reminded you of someone. You told him about your friends, chaotic like his TF, but a family. It sounded like an ops team, he wouldn't be surprised. He remembered the first time he saw you, it was still fresh in his memory.

"Soap stirred up some shite again," Ghost huffed, sloshing his shoulders to appear more relaxed in your presence, to make him seem less threatening than he was. "No casualties, everyone made it out fine. Bit bruised but alive."

"That's the main objective, no?" You chuckled at Ghost's indignified groans about Soap and Roach behaving like children high on sugar.

You stuck around longer now, gracing him with a bit of random chatter. He got to know about your days, your activities, your wishful thinking and your goals. He discovered something new every day, whether it came from your lips or from his own time.

You stood by his table until the chef rang the call bell. You winked charmingly and turned to get his order, he hadn't ordered yet, but he came by so often, ordering the same that the employees knew what to make when he walked through the door.

He liked the normalcy, where he came by once every two days when he was on leave. If the Task Force was sent on a mission, he could be gone a few days, a few weeks or a month. It always varied, but he made it work with his hate of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Are you free tonight, love?" Ghost asked, eyes gazing from your hands to your lips.

He found that open-mouthed expression at his question. You seemed hesitant to answer him, thinking about your reply to the man who tipped you well and was as close as a friend to you; or perhaps you were simply shocked that he finally asked you out, and wondering if you had time for him.

You nodded, a smug smile replacing your shock: "How 'bout eight? I finish at seven tonight."

" 'S fine, eight at the bar down the street?"

"It's a date then."

His heart almost broke his ribs, beating wildly against its cage when the word "date" left your lips. He had a date with you tonight, he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps you meant as a date between friends than one between lovers, but at that moment, all he could think was how your hands would feel between his, how your soft, plump lips would feel over his and how your body would feel against his, below and over him.

He dove into his delusional mind, imagines and dreams swimming freely, jumping from one to the other. He had dreams for once, a wish that he hoped you'd indulge, and a family he wanted but lost.

Everything seemed to go the way he planned, you waved at him when you saw him waiting outside the bar and giddily joined him. He found a quiet and mellow corner at the bar, a table pushed against the wall with two stools.

The bartenders knew him, he drank here with the others, and they didn't bother him and served and usual. Some were surprised he brought a friend - a woman - with him but left him to his own.

You sat down and downed a few beers while he drank his bourbon. You spoke sporadically, hands waving enthusiastically with every word. Your cheeks were flushed, slightly pink and warm from the alcohol, but you were lively, animated and happy.

It made him happy, seeing you so mirthful around him, being able to let loose from your stricter atmosphere at Ma's cafe. Your tense shoulders were looser, your back relaxed from its ramrod-straight position and your voice felt more invigorated. The alcohol might've played a part, running through your system and making you bolder.

The first time always played well, just as he imagined, and the thing that solidified everything was your parting words: "Next time's on me, Simon!"

You drank together every week, from friends to drinking buddies, there was nothing more intimate than that, to trust someone with your drunk self and your loose tongue, spewing words and thoughts the second they crossed your mind.

That boosted his confidence, the feeling that he could confess, and tell you his deepest and darkest thoughts and wants. You'd know what kind of man he was, broken and messily put together, like a DIY project made by a child gone wrong. He had sharp edges and missing pieces, a cracked personality and dangerous thoughts. He was a SAS soldier after all, once you become one, you see some twisted shit.

Like the week before, you walked out together, your legs shaky but still able to walk home, accompanied by Ghost. He helped you to your apartment, his broad shadow looming over the door, silent as always. When your shaky hands were able to unlock the door, turning the knob and opening the door, you turned around to bid your drinking buddy good night.

Lips parting to say the words, until he cut you off, his chapped lips met yours. His gloved hands caressed your cheek, thumb rubbing under your wide eyes as he held you in place. His lips were warm and plump, but chapped, a scar running over it.

His eyes were closed, lips on you for a few seconds longer until he pulled away, a dazed look in his eyes. While he expected a reaction from you, he hadn't envisioned shock and sadness, one that made his gut plummet. He winced at your expression, unable to understand what he did wrong. He thought you loved him.

"I- Simon, I- I can't, I'm sorry," you hushed out sadly, head turned down to stare at your feet. You were unwilling to gaze into his disappointed - probably heartbroken - eyes.

"Why?" He rasped, voice hoarse as if he hid cried for hours, or was on the brink of tearing up.

"I just can't, Simon," you persisted, feeling much more sober than the last few minutes. His surprise had severed you up - willingly or unwillingly. "I don't mind staying friends, but I can't get too attached. I won't be here much longer."

" 'Cause you're not from here?" He scoffed, but it didn't hold any resentment or irritation, simply sorrow and distress. " 'Cause you're from another world?"

You whipped your head to stare at him, your mouth agape and fearful shock glazed over your eyes. How could he have possibly known? While your identity was fabricated work, you know how to make a believable fake ID, Genji's knowledge helped you. You stepped back, hand reaching for your door knob, unsure of what Simon would do to you now that the secret was out.

He turned and ambled out, shoulders slumped slightly without a word to you. His world shattered once again, God seemed hellbent on making his life a misery.

He stopped coming after your "altercation", you felt horrible, but you couldn't let your heart run wild when you know Winston would find a way to fix the portal in a year or two. One had already passed and you couldn't overindulge in this world's pleasures and leave when you got too attached.

Yet, grief at being relieved that he never appeared again clawed at you, he knew you weren't from his world. It was dangerous information, especially in bad hands, but you couldn't do anything about it. This world had different rules and standards, it worked differently and you weren't book-smart like Winston or Torb. You were a simple agent working under Tracer.

You did, however, regret letting Simon leave so abruptly, he was an amazing friend, the perfect drinking buddy and would probably be a caring lover, but couldn't risk it. Even if you wanted to text him, and apologize over and over until Simon would talk to you again, you knew how to respect people's boundaries. If he left so coldly, never passing by, texting or calling told you enough. He needed time to calm down and clear his mind.

You went back and forth between your home and the cafe every night, your original routine - before meeting Simon - felt alien to you. You'd been so used to seeing Simon at the back of the shop, a hot London fog in his hands and crepes on his plate with melting butter. It was foreign to see the spot occupied by another client, or the cold spot in your chest when it was vacant.

You disliked it. You hated it. The cold, the silence, you wanted to see him at least once.

Can we meet? Usual place. was the sudden text you received from Simon during your shift. It was dated today at 5:39.

Without a second thought, you replied, affirming the date and time, tonight, right after your shift on Friday. A weight was lifted from your shoulder, the silence from Simon was broken and he finally reached out to you. Your break to let him calm down had worked it seemed, the let him cool down and clear his mind.

It was late by the time you got to the pub, around nine. You had returned home and fixed up your depressed look for a more lively one, hoping it would make Simon feel better. You caught him at your usual place, head hung low and demeanour shut off from the world around him. You took hesitant steps towards him, he didn't look exactly sober from the number of cups decorating the table, nor did he look drunk, from his sharp, hooded eyes.

"Simon, " you greeted him slowly, nearly flinching when his brown eyes washed over your smaller figure. Chills erupted through the ends of your nerves, fingers twitching at the sudden burst of danger you felt from your friend. You had no reason to be scared, wary of his demeanour, but not scared or hateful. He'd yet to act out violently or malevolently.

He gave a curt nod, emotions bleeding through his eyes. He was a stoic man, but his eyes were extremely emotional, pain, regret, grief, hate and joy were some you'd seen flash in those pretty brown of his.

He had a whole bottle ordered in advance, the cap still tightly screwed onto the bottle's neck. He poured you a cup, of rum straight out of the bottle without ice or any accessories.

Thanking him, you sipped on your drink it felt hot and heady on your tongue, it burned your throat. You hadn't drank since you'd last seen Simon, weeks ago, and you could see - feel - its effect. You coughed slightly but still downed the rest.

"You wanted to see me?" Your question left an odd sensation on your tongue. He hadn't spoken a word since you walked in, always the brooding, silent menace. He stared, fixated on you or something on you, it was perturbed you.

"I wanted to apologize, love."

You missed that low hum in his voice, and the caring way he said you "love". You'd been used to it since most British you knew always called someone they cared for "love" or "dear", loving terms of endearment used publicly. Now, however, you knew it weighted, an undertone to its meaning, a special significance in his heart.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that," he continued, regret painting his rough tone. "It felt right; to me. Guess I was more plastered than I thought."

He was human and alcohol coursed through his system. It made him bold and erratic, he acted out without a second thought. You could forgive him for the influence his bourbon had on him; you were going to forgive him anyway.

Although you felt better with his apology, forgiveness for his sudden move wasn't what you prioritized. You wanted answers. How did he know? Was it a sudden, incomprehensible blurb that he spat in a spike of hate and pain? Or was it conscience wording from his drunk mind?

"Do you remember that night?" You lost your smile, pursed lips and hardened eyes at your questioning - interrogation of him.

"'Course I do."

"Do you remember what you said? About me coming from somewhere else."

He nodded, eyes levelled to stare straight at you, unwilling to hide or lie, he spoke honestly, "Another world, love. Didn't forget."

"How'd you know? I'm not exactly showcasing it to everyone in bright colours. So how?"

"Saw you save that girl, lil babe crying for her mother," his answer was slow and purposeful, giving you what you wanted to hear. He recalled the event that occurred months prior, everything aligned with your own experience. "We don't - can't - have shite like that, too developed and powerful. Nothin' like that's possible in this era. So I figured you weren't from here. "

His reasoning made sense, his wording was careful, and it seemed like he had time to think about it. The time you gave him had helped. You kept your doubts to yourself, questions you had that he probably didn't have the answer to. A way back; a way home; an escape. All things he had no answer to.

So your shoulders relaxed and asked Simon to pour you a second cup, to which he obliged. You drank and smiled, back to the trying times when you just started drinking with him, the unknown and the awkwardness that lingered in the air stung.

You don't remember how many cups you had, or how many bottles you finished. Did you even finish the first one? Did you get halfway through before your vision started blurring and your mind dazed into mumbles of incoherent words? Simon hadn't touched another cup since the world around you blurred, the corners of your eyes turning black and your movement slowed to a slur.

He paid for the drink on his tab, slinging your arm over his shoulder, hand holding your waist as he walked out. You were drunk out of your mind, but something felt different, you don't remember being this inebriated the last time you drank half a bottle of rum. Was there something else in it?

Simon dropped you in the back, buckling you in before he made sure you sat upright. He was close, his neck bare and sweaty, his musk smelled strong and heavy, smoke and gunpowder weighing at the back of your throat. Although your vision was faulty, you could see the tight muscle of his neck and shoulder tense as he worked.

His scent stuck to you as he closed the door and drove home, the air in the car smelling like him. Whatever had drained you, lulled you to sleep, taking comfort in the familiar warmth even if a small part of you started panicking.

He had you, in the basement of his house, soundproof and padlocked from the outside. Any risk was accounted for and any escape plans were foiled prematurely by his quick mind.

Ghost laid you beneath him, on the soft, plush bed he bought and built for you, queen-sized for the times he'd spend cuddling you. He had you splayed, body limp and limbs pliant to his every desire. He admired your sleeping form, how your lace fluttered lightly and your lips perked, thinking on the corners as if you were wincing - a duck face - and your peaceful expression. You were adorable.

Your shirt came off first, pulled over your head and thrown over his shoulders, then your bra. Without his gloves, your skin felt soft, hot to the touch. Kneading your breasts, he held one in each hand and felt the fat. You twitched and mewled faintly when he pinched your nipples, hardened by the cooler air hitting your drunk-induced heat. He kissed them, lips closing around your nipple and sucking loudly. He gave each one the same amount of attention, pulling off with a wet pop.

His fingers trailed the lines of your abdomen, strong and athletic, but not too burly like anyone in the army. He admired your figure, half-naked and unconscious on his bed, in his home. He kissed down your stomach as he took your pants off, sliding leg after leg out, leaving you only in your panties.

You were beautiful: your skin - soft, your hair - silken, your lips - wonderful to kiss, and your eyes - gems. You were breathtaking to look at, a treasure to his eyes solely. You were an unblemished canvas, unmarked by other men - in his mind - by sin, and your scars were trophies, won through difficult times. He wanted to be the one painting you, displaying you prettily for his eyes alone. Pieces of works were kept secret like Michelangelo's love poems and sketches.

His eyes wandered the expanse of your body, groaning when he saw the wet patch, your body had reacted to his caresses, your arousal turning the spot over your cunt darker, wet. He pushed his nose to it, breathing in the tangy musk. His fingers hooked under the string and ripped it off with a harsh tug. You wouldn't need underwear anymore once he was done with you.

Ghost's pupils dilated, wide, blown eyes as it keyed on your slick cunt. He adjusted your legs, moving them over his shoulders to have better access to you. He gave a testing lap, running the flat of his tongue over your rim, prodding your clenching opening and leaving at your pulsating clit.

You tasted delicious, he growled and dove back. Tongue circling your button, sucking loudly, lifting the protective hood to let it swell and throb. He held your hips tightly ad you squirmed and moaned, but you never awoke. The drug he gave you was potent, tested on bigger, stronger military men. It could knock them out, so it would pull a stronger reaction from you.

It weighed on his mind, that he resolved to drugging you and bringing you home to be able to show you just how much he loved you. He'd preferred if you were awake, he wanted your first time together to be wonderful - fantastic - in all ways, but you would've protested, fought him and left him once more. He couldn't risk losing you completely, it hurt.

He had no other choice and felt guilty, but he couldn't let his mind wander when he had you under him, ripe for the taking. He pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on you, his needy girl.

His tongue returned between your leg, cheek nuzzling into your sweating thighs. He alternated between sucking your button, lips enclosing around it, and dipping his tongue into you, groaning anomalistically at your tensing walls. He pushed his forefinger in, joining his ravenous tongue. His nose bumped your clit, jerking you each time.

A second finger joined the first and his tongue left to give attention to your neglected clit, pumping to the third knuckles and curling upwards. You arched off the bed, hips buckling into his open mouth as he stretched you open with a third finger. The sound was lewd and wet, loud in his ears.

His cock twitched, straining against his pants, the fabric tight and inflexible, nearly painful. He wanted to relieve the tightness, that burning ache deep in his guts, but his needs came second to yours.

He flickered his tongue and pushed his fingers deeper, curling and panting against you. You spasmed, legs closing around his head, squeezing him as you came. His fingers eased out slowly to savour the taste of your arousal, mouth covering your fluttering hole and slurping the slick that drizzled down your ass.

He loved how you tasted, sweet and salty, like a healthy, ripe fruit ready to be bitten into, juicy and perfect. He almost lost himself, dazed by your essence and his anguish; if only you'd accepted him early, you would've been awake and conscious of this act, and you'd be able to love and embrace him as he did to you. He wouldn't have to wait so long, in pain and regret, for not wooing you enough. He wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Snapping from his hazed thinking, he lowered your legs and climbed off the bed to undress. He peeled his hoodie and shirt, which stuck to his skin by sweat, and he dropped his pants once he unbuckled his belt. His cock bobbed, slapping wetly against his navel before it hung heavily between his legs, the head achingly red and swollen. His balls felt heavy, and tight from all the neglect. They were big and full, ready to pump his seed into you.

He cradled you, pulling your legs over his elbows and slotting his hips to yours, his cock over your slit. He moved his hips, slicking his shaft with your juices, groaning at the wet warmth under him. When it felt slick enough, he dipped the tip in, your labia stretching to swallow his uncut head. The sound was downright filthy in his ears, the squelch and your strained moans.

He watched himself inch deeper, sinking into your depths with unrelenting hunger, panting and growling until he bottomed out, his balls sitting snug against your ass. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, nudging it as he rolled his hips, testing how deep he could reach and how strong he could fuck.

He slowly pulled out, hearing the wet noise of his cock slipping out to the tip, and slammed in, his balls slapping the roundness of your ass. He rocked wildly, groaning each time he bottomed out, feeling the heat of your walls clench around him like a vice. Your spasming walls wrenched low moans from him, as often as you whimpered and mewled.

"Fuck- you feel so fuckin' good-" he pushed out through his clenched teeth, his cock twitching when you tightened around him.

Your legs shook, your back arching slightly and your voice keening loudly. He covered your body with his, lips meeting yours in a hungry and possessive kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and committing it to memory. His hand found your clit, thumb rubbing your sensitive nub, urging you towards your end.

Keening, you came, gripping him with a vice. He grunted, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his peak after yours, breathing in your neck with dazed, hooded eyes. He swore, thrusting as deep as he could and came, his seed rushing to fill you.

"Fuck- fuck-" he gasped, rocking a few times into you, riding off his edge until he calmed down.

White globs leaked from your stuffed cunt, rolling down your ass and leaving a trail. His chest rumbled happily, bending down to kiss you slowly, soft and adoring compared to the last. He slid out when he softened, his cum oozing out of your gaping heat, the plug keeping everything in left.

He loved watching you full, oozing of him, asleep and satiated in the bed he bought for you. You were both coated in sweat and cum, hair sticking to your glistening skin. Your dishevelled and panting aroused him, his soft cock jerking upwards, hardening moments after he just came.

"We're not done yet, love."

You felt heavy and warm, a heat - a body - held you tightly, fingers carding through your hair and caressing your back. It smelled like sweat and smoke, a familiar musk. You opened your eyes, seeing a pale, burly chest, Simon's naked chest. You froze, body tensing, shoulders squaring and arms ready to push him back.

"Morning, love," his voice was raspy with sleep, deep and calm as he greeted you, his lips meeting your hairline. "Slept well?"

You frowned, legs moving, jutting out from between his knees as you struggled to free yourself. Your body felt sore, the peak of your discomfort coming from your heat, a pulsating and warm pain. You feared the worst.

When you looked down, you were covered by only a shirt, a big, dark grey t-shirt that smelled like Simon, it reached your knees. You winced, seeing your nakedness and Simon's pants hanging low on his hips, flashing the sharp dip of his navel and his sculpted torso. It left little to imagine, the red blemishes on your neck and shoulders, slightly faded from his careful handling and bruises the size of his fingers around your thighs.

"You-" you coughed before you could day anymore, throat dry and scratchy, alcohol dehydrated people faster.

"Drink," he held you up, back to his chest, arms slipping around you too comfortably to hand you a cup of water, cool and fresh.

He had expected this, he wasn't as delusional as he first seemed, and he was prepared. You took it, gulping it down carefully, counting the seconds - minutes - that would pass until the drug kicked in, if he had diluted any in your water.

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating as he wrapped his arms around you, nosing the collar of your neck, he placed fluttering kisses on your open shoulder. The collar of his shirt slipped from one side, exposing your skin. His teeth grazed you, teasingly nipping you with warm puffs of air.

You gulped, gathering whatever wits you still had after this whole kidnapping situation. Your mind was running miles per second, eyes gleamed over with tensions and tiredness, and your body sore from Simon's perverse affection.

"Where am I?" your voice was small, still raspy from - what you assumed - moaning and mewling.

"Home," he mumbled, latching onto your skin and sucking a dark spot.

Home? It neither meant your flat nor safety. It was *his* home, a prison he built for you. You looked around. You thought it better to get to know the place he decided to keep you captive, to learn and discover its secrets, anything you could use against or for you.

It was like a studio apartment, everything was open apart from the bathroom, it had a small kitchenette with a fridge (probably in case he left for a while, deployed in another country while he kept you here.), a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and a desk pushed to the side. He'd forgone leaving you with a television, a mobile device, a phone or a computer, all were risks of you getting out.

The walls were painted over, bare of windows and stairs lead to a door, locked from both sides. He locked you in his basement, beneath his house and every other neighbour's nose. No one would come to your rescue if you screamed. No one would hear your cries of anguish or your pleas for freedom.

He bit down, teeth pressing onto your skin, denting the scarred flesh with his teeth marks. You yelped, the area hot and painful, his strength leaving an almost skin-deep bleeding, fiery and red. It was irritated and swelled in seconds. He moved from one patch to the other, determined to mark up your shoulder before possibly moving on to the next one.

You squirmed on his lap, trying to free yourself from his restrictive hold. You gripped his hands, digging your blunt nails into his forearms. He scoffed, nuzzling the bites he made, tongue lapping at the bleeding lines.

"Ghost," you gasped, legs kicking and body struggling.

Clicking followed every kick, the distinct sound of metal rattling in a disorderly way. You looked down your leg, catching the cuff around your right ankle, a long chain kept you jailed in the basement. It was long and winding, enough to comfortably walk laps around your new accommodation but too short to reach the door.

You stared at it incredulously, the utter rage and disgust that burned in your gut that he planned to keep you as if you were a glorified pet or some sort of prize he scouted and obtained.

You knew he liked you before, it was a simple and innocent crush, like finding your first one and not knowing how to react. That, and the fact he was a soldier, scarred by time and marked by warfare made him so standoffish. You thought it was simple, but now, it was too late to forget, to not look, to let bygones be bygones.

He was obsessed, not necessarily sane, but not crazy either. He wasn't delusional, by everything he set up as a precaution, but he let his darkness fester, grow and crack the surface of his calm and stoic persona. He was still calm and meticulous, but it was a different kind, storming ideas for your imprisonment and wishes he wanted to make true. Ghost and Simon overlapped, neither good nor evil, he was simply letting the monster rage uncontrolled.

His pent-up emotions drove him to the edge, and your rejection pushed him over, tipping the scale of his sanity. That's how you ended up in your current situation, his hands wandering over your thighs, dipping between them and down to your knees. He still nipped at your skin, biting and pulling the collar down the other shoulder. His teeth sunk into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, warm fingers slipping under his shirt to knead your chest.

You winced, flinching when he plucked your nipples, pulling on them until you let out a pained whine.

"Stop-!" your hands followed his, clamping around his wrists and dragging him out, but he stayed firm, unmoving to your will as he twirled your mounds. "Fucking stop!"

He huffed, hands dropping to your lap. He mumbled into your bitten skin, groaning in complaints about not letting him care for you. His complaints came with hot breaths on your nape, mouthing the back, turning silent and unmoving.

His quietness was familiar to you, his penchant for sifting through his thoughts in utter silence. Then he moved, draping the covers over your body, tucking you in. He stood at your bedside, expression lighting in a gentle smile. Under the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a beautiful angel. A gold halo hovered over his blonde locks, framing his pale skin and warm, brown eyes.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering a few seconds longer as he took in the calming moment. He had you, he had you in his home.

"How about breakfast? Fried eggs and bangers, how's that sound?"

The normalcy of eating breakfast in bed, to wake up and be greeted with a British breakfast made by Simon. He liked the idea of such normality, it was romantic, domestic even. To be able to cook for you and serve you the food he made, he'd eat at the table in the middle of the room, seated opposite from you.

He left before you could give him a piece of your mind, or your reply to his question. Fried eggs, you knew what that was, but *bangers*, what the fuck was that?

The stairs creaked lightly, bending under Simon's weight, but his steps were silent - dangerous. The lock clicked when it was unlocked, and he left you alone, the door locking behind him. Gone was your escape, gone was your freedom, gone was your life with the door locking before you.

Time seemed endless, it went by in a blink or in long, painful moments that left you angry. He hadn't given you a clock, and without anything technological (the microwave didn't have the time, whatever Simon had done, worked. Time never played on the four-letter screen.), you couldn't tell day from night, seconds from minutes and minutes from hours. Time dragged agonizingly slowly, the only clue was Simon kept a pattern: three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and supper before going to bed with his arms wrapped around you.

How long you've stayed here was unknown. You couldn't know and Simon didn't want to tell you. He changed subjects or glared at you until you dropped it or he decided to drop it. You had no link to the outside, no way of knowing if you'd been announced missing or if anyone was worried. Simon had cut all your connections to the world around you, just outside your reach, on the other side of these walls that confined you.

You desperately needed to know about your case, if they knew, if they filed a missing person report if they were searching for you. It pained you to be ignorant of everything but your small world, the things that happened in your small room. Everything you knew was Simon.

His horribly, soothing words in his deep voice, speaking into your ear or your hair, whispering his dreams and his hopes, his love and his adoration. His wandering hands, raking the tension from your shoulders, the knots in your back, your worry from your eyes and lips, and the pleasure - forced - he brought upon you.

Entertainment was brought through him, or through the books he left for you, most were erudite, both old and new novels. Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Silence of the Lambs and The Heart of Darkness were a few of the novels you'd caught on the bookshelf.

He also fed you. Most days, he'd stay until it was time to eat, he would leave - sometimes half an hour or a whole hour, it ranged between depending on the meal - and come back with warm plates. They always smelled good and they tasted better.

It surprised you how skilled he was in cocking, as he was in infiltration, sniping, abducting and killing. Perhaps he took the time apart from you to forge his plan, to learn to cook and to care.

You ate, slowly and contemplatively. He stared at you eat, always making sure you took the first bites before digging into his own plate. It weighed heavy in your gut, like a reluctant gift you were bestowed, and Simon made sure you ate everything.

You felt dazed, gone, after eating, as if a cloud washed over your mind that made you slower, and sluggish with everything you did. The food was drugged, you were aware of that when you first felt lethargic. It made you less testy, less bratty as Simon grumbled, you were more pliant to his whims and easier to move when you tried fighting him.

Though it eased the nausea that wracked your body in the mornings, the sudden discomfort in your abdomen and the heaviness that the ache gave. You rarely needed to move from the bed if the urge to vomit came up, Simon kept pills for that. If you did, he'd comfort you, holding your hair back as the content of your stomach surged upwards.

Your time spent with Simon was time spent organizing your thoughts, Winston was smart, engineering-wise, he was amazing. Then there was Mercy with her medical breakthrough and Torb with his ingeniously brilliant machines. If they came together, found what went wrong with the portal you went through.

Trace would be so worried if she wasn't already dead worried. She was a caring and responsible mentor, taking you in before and after the fall of Overwatch. Nearly twelve years under her and this was the first mishap. You spent nearly two years in Simon's world - you counted the time your could count, the days you spent working and enjoying life as much as you could in a different place - and your heart never stopped missing your family.

You missed Jack - Soldier: 76 - when he would openly laugh, and Gabriel, when he was still the man he was. You missed Tracer's fussing, blinking around with so much energy, and Reinhardt's proud standard when he loomed over his teammates with his Barrier Field. You missed them horribly, they were the glue that kept you hoping for freedom.

It happened when you nearly conceded to Simon's whims, bending to his will and words, letting his hands wander your body and feeling pleasure - genuine. His confessions were parroted, and his I love youwas returned.

You ate less, however, the lump in your gut grew by the days, weighing heavier and heavier. You had weird cravings, followed by nausea most mornings, gripping the toilet bowl with your head hung low. Simon held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back, bemoaning about your pains and cramps.

He left a few times during your period of captivity, vanishing for long periods - usually a week or two - and had you manage everything on your own. He had cameras set up, watching your every move, connected to whatever device he decided to watch you.

He was deployed a week ago, his steps never walking to the door during the week, but now, you could hear his booming steps around the house. They were loud and intentional. Dread always filled your body when you learned he came back, he was clingy, handsy and obsessive when he came back, growling that he would burn down the world if couldn't have you; or that he was thinking about you - constantly - and that the video feed on his phone was never enough.

You picked up on his pace, hurried and panicked. They stomped around the house in search of something before it stopped at your door. Your ears perked on the clicking of the lock, straining to listen to his heaving breaths.

Crack

You jerked forward. Something behind you cracked, the loud cracking filled the air as you turned. A blue swirl cracked the shift in reality, like glass fracturing and breaking into pieces, it glowed with every line. It pulsed calmly, the swirls capturing your attention. You felt drawn to it, your hands twitching with the urge to touch it, to let your fingers swim in the infinite pool.

"(Name), are you there?" a voice called from the other side, small and feminine. It was dripping with worry and exhaustion. "Luv, are you there?" she cried a second time, a hand emerging from the portal.

You knew the voice, the warm, familiar voice that called out to you with love and compassion. A friend. A mentor. A family.

You reached out to it, hand inches from hers. Then the door to your cage burst open, his screams echoing in the basement. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could, mask still on his face as he reached for you. His gloved fingers grasped the air for you, rushing towards you with immense worry and fear in his eyes.

Mere seconds behind you, his fingers grazed your back as you fell into the waiting arms of your mentor. He was too late, he fell on the vacant bed, watching the portal close behind you. He clutched the bending, the place you sat moments ago. It was still warm, your heat and smell still mixed into your sheets.

He spun lies about your absence, about your sudden disappearance from his world. You moved away after your breakup, you distanced yourself from him to make the move easier on your heart and his. The TF had accepted the excuse, solemnly nodding about your leave and wishing they could have said farewell to a good friend.

They moved on with life, still smiling nostalgically when you were brought up, but Ghost was left heartbroken. He knew something was wrong that day, the itch in his brain about something happening at home. That's why he was in such a hurry, in a panicked frenzy to get home - to get to you. He was too late though, seeing you being pulled into a portal. Dooming was the effect on him; devastation was the pain in his heart; shattering was the sorrow of his soul.

He poured everything into keeping you, only to lose you. Now, he poured every second of his life into work, never letting his mind wander to the bump on your stomach or the subtle relinquishment in your actions to him.

He was deader than dead, colder and more stoic than before. They saw the change, they understood, but never blamed you. Everyone had fallouts, Simon just had more than the rest of the world. That's why he played Ghost more often than before, building his walls higher and his appearance darker.

Yet somehow, Soap was enthusiastic enough to rope him into playing games on his console (he used to play more before finding time between deployments to jump into a match with the others). Overwatch 2, an evolution of the first made better. Soap promised it was good. His spiel about the characters having a profound background and the gameplay being fun. Ghost was doubtful, he and Soap didn't have the same definition of fun, they were associated with different things.

He liked Soap, though, so he humoured his sergeant. He downloaded it on his console, watching the white line charge until it became playable. Soap had mentioned a few names: Genji, Sombra, Reaper and Zenyatta, he even joked about Reaper resembling him, the skull mask and the dark drapes. He'd also gushed - like an over-enthusiastic gamer - about a new character, a woman, the sole student of this Tracer.

He scoured through the lists of players, eyes skimming over the faces before he spotted a familiar one. It was more cartoonish, drawn in gentle lines and beautiful shades. Your face, it was your beautiful face. He nearly dropped his controller, hands shaking and body heavy.

Was it guilt that washed over him? Was it pain that washed over him? Was it sorrow and melancholy that washed over him? Or was it his world that came crashing down on his shoulders?

The world dulled, his breath became stagnant and shallow as he stared at your hero. You were standing proud and fearless, guns held in your hands with a bright smile. He watched you emote, your character moving as it was coded. He scrolled through your skills and perks, some he remembered you use. You blinked and recalled, moving back and forth between time and space, breaking the fragile shift in the world.

Soap was right about the new hero, you were interesting and lovely. In a flurry of emotions, he opened up your biography - or a snippet of your backstory. Every word bled his heart, every act and every situation wracked his body with sadness. The more he read, the more his tears threatened to fall.

You kept your - his - child, a beautiful kid with his blonde hair and your eyes, a round, yet sharper face like his. You kept him, you hadn't aborted the child. You gave birth and he wasn't there. You took care of your kid and he wasn't there. You watched him grow and he wasn't there.

He cried, body closing on itself. His shoulders shook, his vision blurred and his face streaked with tears. A broken sob broke through his throat, restricted and pained with waves of emotion, deep and harrowing sadness of his loss.

"I miss you, love," he rasped, his fingers gripping his hair, nearly ripping out the seams. "I miss you."

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 4

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: you guys i hate it here, like i actually just want them to make out already, also to the person who commented a couple chapters ago saying they wanted to see peter’s pov, this is for u

warnings: awful descriptions of photography (im not a photographer im so sorry pls lets all just ignore it), reader just straight up dipping in every situation, jealous pete lmao, reader trying to be mad, also i made peter super hot, like, more hot than usual (i was ovulating) ok bye

masterlist, read part 1, part 2, part 3

Peter had always known he would be with you. It was only a matter of when. When would he get the balls to act on his never-ending crush?

For a minute there, he had you. He felt like he owned the world. You wanted him, you loved him, and he thought the wait was finally over. This was the moment all the other moments in his life had led to. 

He’d never told you (nor will he ever) but he’d never done a project on astronomy. That night you’d helped with his wounds after he’d crashed on your fire escape (the night he was hurt and all he had wanted was to see a familiar face, and his first thought was you), the night you’d told him you had a special interest in stars, he’d went home and stayed up all night to learn everything he could about them. 

After doing that for several days, he took a night off patrolling to swing around the whole city (and a little further, if he were being honest) to find the perfect spot for your little stargazing date.

He just wanted everything to be perfect for you, always. It was why he used to wake up an hour earlier every day before school and grab you a cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe. It was why he made sure to pay extra attention in your least favorite classes, the ones you struggled with the most, so he could help you with your homework and notes because he knew you’d need it. It was why he tied your shoelaces every time they came undone and you just ignored it. He held open every door, he cooked sometimes (though poorly), and he randomly bought you flowers and left you little notes everywhere. 

All he wanted was for you to be completely happy. Which is why he had to end things. Every part of his heart disagreed, every inch of his bones disagreed. But he knew the reality of the situation, and he couldn’t do that to you.

Peter couldn’t leave you stuck in a dorm room, missing out on parties or hang outs with your friends, waiting for him to call. He couldn’t be the reason your phone was stuck in your face 24/7, worrying about him. He couldn’t have you staying up till 3AM waiting for him to send you a text telling you he was okay, that patrolling that night had gone well. Even if it hadn’t. 

College was so important to you. You’d tried to downplay it to him but he knew how much you were looking forward to this, and he couldn’t be the one to take away from that experience. 

He didn’t transfer back here for you. 

Or at least, that’s what he spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to convince himself. New York was his home, it needed him, it needed Spider-Man, May was getting older, he should be close to her, Columbia was a great school, it was his first choice. The fact that you went there was just a perk. 

Or a con. 

He wasn't sure anymore because seeing you here, in front of him for the first time in years, it left him breathless. 

Peter was always a romantic, though he’d be loathe to admit it. He wanted that one true love, he wanted someone to come home to and talk about his day with, and afterwards he would listen to theirs. He wanted late night talks, early morning confessions. Dancing in the kitchen while food cooked on the stove, getting so lost in each other’s eyes that it almost burns. And he genuinely thought you two would find your way back to each other somehow, because he’d known since he was a little boy it would always be you.

But now he’s started to wonder if just because it would always be you, that might not mean he would actually get to have you. 

Because there’s a man beside you. 

He’s holding your waist. 

And you’re not pushing him away. 

“Ace?” Asked the man (who looked nothing like Peter, by the way, and it was driving him insane). Now Peter never considered himself a violent person. As a preteen and an early teenager, he’d been puny and weak, but even after he’d became Spider-Man he never liked to resort to violence unless absolutely necessary. But right that moment, he felt an inexplicable, almost primal rage he’d never felt before. And he wanted to punch this man in the face. Yeah, that sounded like it could help. 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Old nickname.”

The man beside just narrowed his eyes slightly, which didn’t help Peter’s urge to sock him in the face. He watched as his grip around you tightened and the man pulled you in closer, almost possessively. “Introduce me babe.”

Babe? Was this guy for real?

“Oh right,” you shook your head slightly and let out another slightly too high-pitched laugh and Peter almost felt bad for putting you in such an awkward position. “James, this is Peter. He’s an old friend of mine from high school. Peter, this is James. My boyfriend.”

Peter’s heart sank. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and he wasn’t. He could tell by the way James was holding you, the way he called you babe (which was tacky in Peter’s opinion. You deserved something a little more special than ‘babe’ ugh) but hearing you say it? He was afraid he might blackout. 

He hadn’t expected you to go celibate or anything, but damn. Hearing you call someone else your boyfriend fucked with him in ways he’d never experienced. 

He could see the shock in your eyes, the disbelief as you stared at him as if you couldn’t really trust yourself to see what you were seeing.

“So…how’ve you been?” He asked casually, as if his heart wasn’t racing out of his chest right then, and he knew yours was doing the same.

Your brows furrowed, “I—I’m good, wait,” you scoffed and closed your eyes tightly before opening them again. “What are you doing here Peter?”

Right. You didn’t know. Fair enough, he hadn’t told anyone until everything was already set in stone. “I just transferred in this semester. I go here now.”

And if he thought your eyes couldn’t get any wider, he was wrong. He almost thought that they’d fall out of your head. 

“What?!”

The shock was written all over your face, but…there was something else, something he couldn’t quite place. After years of knowing you, it was concerning to him that he might not be able to read you as well as he used to. 

Peter wasn’t sure what kind of reaction, exactly, he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He tried his best to only stare at you because he really didn’t want to look at fucking James right now. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, “it just…felt right. Thought I belonged here.” His voice was quiet because he wasn’t even sure if that was true anymore. Was this right? Did he belong here anymore?

You stood perfectly still, no emotion on your face, and he wished more than anything he could read your mind right then. James looked back and forth between the two of you before he lightly tapped your hip, making peter’s heart churn, “I think we should get going, we’re gonna be late.”

He watched you look up at him, dazed, “Oh right, yeah, we should go. Bye Peter,” you didn’t even look at him as you said it, turning around and leaning into James’ hold as you walked away. 

Yeah, this definitely wasn’t how he expected this to go.

“You wanna talk about that?”

You scoffed. “Not really, no.”

“So he’s an ex,” James replied, and it wasn’t a question. You trudged forward, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. Almost two years. Almost a whole two years where you’d imagined countless scenarios of how your reunion would go, but you’d never imagined he’d ambush you on your college campus, claiming that he’d transferred, while you were walking around campus with your current boyfriend.

You inhaled deeply. “Yeah, and I have no clue what he’s doing here.” You’d never really told him about Peter, it just hadn’t come up. If you had to refer to him while sharing a story, it was always as an ‘old friend’ or ‘neighbor from across the hall’. You’d never liked calling him an ‘ex’.

“Well I do,” you looked up at him questioningly. “He transferred this semester, obviously.” You huffed out a laugh and tried to focus on your footsteps. Just keeping walking forward, you thought. God, not even a full 5 minutes together and it’s like he’s completely thrown you off.

“Where’d he go before?”

He didn’t know anything. You were so used to the people in your life being so involved with you and Peter, already knowing everything, knowing when and where to bring him up after the breakup (usually trying not to bring him up at all for your sake) and you guessed that’s why you’d never told James about him, it was nice to have someone who didn’t know everything there was to know about you and your past. This way, you’d get to unveil those things at your own pace. 

“He went to Duke.”

James whistled. “Good school,” he admitted, and you nodded. It was a good school. It was a great school that was 8 hours 27 minutes and 36 seconds, which is how far away Peter was supposed to be. But he wasn’t. He was here, attending the same school you were, the same school he was originally supposed to attend. With you.

“He seems cool enough, maybe we’ll see him around.” You wanted to give James credit for how cool he was trying to be about this. 

“Maybe,” you forced a smile. You wondered just how much you’d be seeing him around and just what that meant.  

“Pete you have no right to be upset about this,” May said, shaking her head on the other side of the phone.

“Don’t you think I know that,” he groaned and clutched the phone tighter to his ear as he walked around campus. It had been a couple of days since your little interaction and it had been on his mind since it happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. “And I’m not upset! I’m just…surprised.”

“What were you expecting?” May asked. 

“Not him, thats for damn sure,” he mumbled grumpily. Truthfully, James had never done anything to make Peter hate him, he might even be an okay guy, but that wasn’t for Peter to find out because he was dead set on hating his guts, valid reasoning or not.

“Pete he’s not that bad,” his aunt tried to reason. “He’s actually an okay guy, he’s sweet and—”

“She deserves more than okay! And what about—wait a minute…have you met him?”

The line was quiet for a moment, confirming his suspicions. Peter scoffed just as May said, “it’s not like that! He came over during winter break and I happened to run into him. I spent a few hours at their apartment and—I don’t have to explain myself to you! Look Peter,” May sighed and he could picture her rubbing her temple the way she usually did when he got a little too much for her sometimes, “you broke up with her, you stopped reaching out, and you were the one who chose not to see her during your winter break,” she scolded through the phone and Peter felt his whole body flush with shame and guilt. He had done those things and there was no denying it, but while he might’ve considered them the only options at the time, god did he regret all of it after seeing you with that guy.

“I know,” he admitted in a low voice, “I did fuck up, and we can talk about that later but I’ve gotta go for now, May, bye.”

“Bye, Pete,” she replied, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he hung up and stared at the door in front of him. After your first meeting, he wasn’t sure if this was as good an idea he had built it up to be in his head. 

Too late, he thought, and pushed open the door too the newsroom. 

“Hey, Peter right?” A redhead approached him with a bright smile on her face.

“Yeah that’s me,” he shrugged his backpack higher onto his shoulder and held out a hand.

“Alyssa, I’m the editor,” she said as she accepted his handshake, “I cannot tell you what a jam you’ve gotten us out of, really we’ve never run this low on members. Usually, we’re fighting them off with a stick, but apparently there aren’t too many people into photography right about now.”

“Oh hey, no problem. I saw the notice in the newsletter,” he shrugged, “thought I’d try something new.”

“Well, I really appreciate that Peter, I saw the photos you sent me, they’re amazing. Honestly, if the ones you submit for the paper are half as good, we’re going to be perfect.”

“Thanks Alyssa,” he always appreciated when people spoke well about his photography. You were always his biggest fan when it came to his interests and hobbies. You knew everything about him, from big to small, and yet you never belittled any part. He wondered if you had any clue how much that had meant to him. In a world where people praised Spider-Man for being the strong willed hero he was while simultaneously berating Peter for…well everything, you did the opposite. You loved him, every part. From the boy who went out to fight crime almost every free hour he could get, to that same boy who would sit on your bedroom floor and do physics homework with you and was crazy good at it.

He felt a sudden nervous feeling overtake him at the thought of seeing you again in the newsroom. He knew you were on the paper, duh, but when he’d seen the notice that the news team was in need of an extra photographer to two this season, he’d thought it a good opportunity. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with you, or spending time with you. Of course not.

Alyssa walked him around, introduced him to some of the people there, the other photographers (only one, at present, his name was Ryan. Apparently there was a shortage of people willing to take photos for the paper this semester), and by the end of his mini tour he couldn’t deny the small amount of relief at not seeing you…and yet at the same time…disappointment. Maybe you just weren’t in today.

He spoke to soon.

Stopping back at the front of the room, Alyssa turned to him again, “Well, I think that’s most of the people, at least, who are in today. Y’know, it’s pretty slow for start of the semester—” Her eyes darted somewhere behind him, obviously distracted by something. Peter watched her face light up before she said, “Oh! Looks like I was wrong,” she beckoned someone to come closer. Peter could feel the vibe shift in the room. “Peter, this is Y/N!”

Peter turned and could see the exact moment you faltered. Clearly, Alyssa didn’t. Nor did she notice the not-so-subtle looks you were throwing her way. “Y/N this is Peter, he one of our new photographers.”

To make things even better, James chose right then to walk in. “And this is James!”

James came to stand right beside you, taking up a stance much similar to the one he had during their first meeting, except this time his arms draped over your shoulder and tugged you into him. 

“Oh, we’ve met. Patrick, right?”

Peter definitely didn’t like this guy. 

“Peter,” Alyssa corrected, “I was just introducing him to Y/N, he’s a part of the photography team.”

“Oh I don’t think they need much of an introduction.” James remarked. You winced. Peter wanted to punch him. Poor Alyssa was growing more confused by the second.

“So…have you two met as well?” She tried. 

“Lyss do you remember when I told you about Peter from high school?” You trailed off at the end, hoping she’s catch it on her own.

Alyssa snorted, “You mean the dick who broke up with you on graduation? Yeah I remember—” she gasped and looked at Peter, then back at you. 

You nodded. Alyssa couldn’t keep the shock off of her face. Finally, James spoke up, “And as lovely as this has been, we should really get to work.” Peter watched as he pulled you away to a pair of desks on the other side of the room. He watched you take a seat at one, James at the other, and he wondered if this was how you’d met him. Did you like him because he attractive? Funny? What about him had caught your attention in the first place? And then the worst thought of all, did you love him? Peter repressed a shudder, he couldn’t handle that right now, or maybe ever. 

He turned back to Alyssa, who had been standing quietly beside him since her earlier remark about him (rightfully so, he had been a dick), “So where should I set up?” He lifted his backpack on his shoulder for emphasis. 

Wordlessly and wide-eyed, Alyssa pointed to an empty desk. It was two desks across from yours.

This was going to be interesting. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your Peter was here! In Columbia! Joining the paper!”

It hadn’t taken your roommate long to find some (shitty) excuse to drag you out to the hall to give you the talking-off you were expecting. “I can go in there and fire him right now!” She was flexing her powers as the new editor. 

Lyss had made abrupt climb to editor at the end of last semester. Brandon had resigned to take some time to himself while he applied to grad schools all over the country and went through the trials and tribulations that was senior year of undergrad and honestly, you couldn’t have thought of anyone better to take him place. You’d all gone out to celebrate, the whole news staff, but the two of you and James had had your own little celebration at your apartment later that night.  

“I’m sorry! It’s just been so hectic! You’re so busy all the time, you’re barely home, and honestly I didn’t really believe it at first. And he’s not my Peter,” you scoffed, “he’s just Peter.”

Lyss snorted, “Y/N there’s no way you could possibly think I’m too busy to hear about all this, this is huge! Tell me everything!” She exclaimed eagerly. “When’d you first run into him? How did James know? Did you tell him? Oh my god, what did he say?”

“Calm down girl,” you held up both hands. “I ran into him a couple days ago, James was with me, and he was actually super cool about it!”

Lyss gave you a look. “What?” You asked confused. 

“Now, what exactly had you thinking he was cool about it? ‘Cause that was not the vibe I was getting in there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Patrick? Please,” she giggled, “that was totally on purpose, of course he remembered his name. And the way he had his arm around you?”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “This is all so crazy. I don’t know what hell he’s doing back here.”

Lyss perked up, “My offer to fire him still stands babe! Just say the word and poof,” she made a gesture with her hands, making you laugh.

“We both know can’t actually do that. We’re running low enough on photographers as it is, you can’t just fire a perfectly good one.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “I can always grab a camera and try my hardest. I always thought I’d be great at photography.”

You grinned, walking back towards the door to the newsroom, Lyss following beside you, “Oh yeah? How come?”

“I don’t know,” she frowned, “that was a total fucking lie, I’ve never thought twice about photography. But I probably could do it! If it came down to it.”

You laughed as you entered, but one of the other writers quickly interrupted it “Alyssa, we need your help with this layout.”

Lyss looked at you smiling, “Duty calls, this isn’t over.”

You smiled, “Go. We’ll talk later.”

As she walked off, you made your way to your desk, avoiding any eye contact with Peter. It was just your luck he got sat right across from you. You briefly wondered if Alyssa’s editor could get him moved. You’d have to bring this up with her later.

A file dropped on your desk, causing you to look up. James stood above you, smirking and successfully blocking your view of Peter (if you were trying to look over at him, which you weren’t). You wondered it he’d done that on purpose. “Those copies you were looking for,” he proclaimed, pointing towards the file, “fresh out the printer. 

Shit. You had completely forgotten about these with everything and you needed them to finalize the current article you were working on. Smiling, you gushed jokingly, “My hero, thank you so much!” 

James’ smirk grew as he placed his hands on his hips dramatically. “Just call me your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

You were about to laugh until you heard a scoff come from behind him. Your smile fell from your face and you watched James’ expression change as he turned to see Peter. “Something funny man?”

“No,” Peter replied, not even bothering to look up from his computer. That was until he let his eyes meet yours. It was barely a second, but it was long enough for James to notice. 

James stood perfectly still in his spot in front of your desk before silently walking over to his and taking a seat without another look at either of you. 

You tried to get him to look at you so you could silently apologize or something, but he wouldn’t budge. 

You weren’t sure how this was going to work. 

You swiped your hair out of your face as you walked out of the lecture hall, your shoes echoing on the hard-tile floor. Stepping out of the building, you took a deep breath. You’d had a long day and you couldn’t wait to get to your apartment and crash on the couch. You weren’t even sure if you could make it to your room. You’d try to get in a nap before you were supposed to meet up with James tonight. The two of you had been busier lately and you’d felt bad about everything going on with Peter, so you tried to set aside some time just for you and him. It was going to be a low-key night, just the two of you ordering in, maybe watching a movie, you thought it was much needed.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Peter leaning against the wall of the building adjacent to the one you just exited. The photography building. You hadn’t seen him recently. Even at the newsroom, it seemed the two of you had different schedules lately. 

You kept your head down, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. 

“Hey Ace! Wait up.”

Clearly, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You paused, not even bothering to pretend like you hadn’t heard him. It was Peter, you knew him better than you knew yourself, he would’ve just chased after you. 

You took in his appearance as he walked up to you. You hadn’t really given yourself the chance before, with James around and everything…Peter had changed. You could see it now clearer than ever. He moved with a confidence in himself and with his body he hadn’t possessed before. And he looked buffer. 

Peter had told you how after the bite, everything had changed, his senses, his appearance, and while he had definitely been strong before…now there was visible muscle to back it up. You suspected than even if he tried to hide under baggy sweaters like he did back in high school, it wouldn’t work. But something told you that this new Peter was done hiding.

Gone was the scrawny little kid you’d known your entire childhood and before you stood a handsome young man who would’ve left that same little kid awestruck. “Been hitting up the gym?” You asked once he was close enough to hear. 

Peter chuckled, “Yeah, actually. I started back in freshman year, it helped clear my mind off everything.”

How someone could possibly juggle classes, homework, super hero work, workouts, and manage to eat, sleep, and drink, you’d never know. But if anyone could do it it was Peter. 

“May and I were talking.” Safe bet to start with May, you thought. “She was asking about you, said its been a while since she’s seen you.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, a little confused as to where he was going with this, “I haven’t been home in a bit, but we’ve texted.”

“Oh yeah, that’s nice!” Peter reached to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his you knew all too well. “If you wanted you, could come over for dinner with us sometime. She’d love to have you.”

“Umm…” was he serious right now? “Thanks Peter, but my schedule’s kinda packed right now. I’ve got like three essays due and I have a big article coming up soon, so I’ll have to pass. Tell May I miss her too though.”

“Oh, the competition, right? That’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. You know about it?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I think I heard Alyssa mention it and you having something to do with it. Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s a pretty big deal.”

You grinned, “It is. Front page big deal. I’m excited.” You admitted. 

Peter smiled, so genuine you could see those crinkles form beside his eyes. You remembered how you used to trace them with your fingers. “All your writing belongs on the front page, if you ask me.”

You blushed. He couldn’t just say things like that, not anymore. “Thanks, but you haven’t even read any of it yet.” You hadn’t had a piece published since he’d arrived here, he couldn’t have read any of your work yet.

“That’s not true,” he said simply, with no further elaboration. 

Your phone rang, cutting off your conversation. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled it out to see James’ name flashing across your screen. You held up a finger to Peter and walked a few paces away before answering. 

“Hey!”

“Hey babe, so listen, Nash just broke up with his girl and we thought we’d take him on a barhop to cheer him up. I’m picking you up at 10.”

Your brows furrowed. Barhopping did not sound like something you wanted to do tonight, or ever. And didn’t you already have plans? “Um, weren’t we supposed to hang out tonight?”

“Oh pfft, that wasn’t anything special, we were just going to order takeout. So 10?” Oh. You’d beg to differ, him and his friends always found an excuse to get absolutely plastered at least once a week, and the two of you had barely seen each other. At first you’d thought he was a little upset with you because of the whole Peter thing but now…you wondered if he even cared. 

You cleared your throat, rubbing the palm of your empty hand on your shirt. When had you gotten sweaty? “No I think I’m good. I have some stuff to work on, but you have fun though! I’ll keep the door unlocked tonight.” It wouldn’t be the first time you’d nursed a drunk and incoherent James (and terribly hungover in the morning)

“Damn, you sure?”

You hummed in response.

“Kay, bye.”

“Bye.”

You shoved your phone back into your pocket. At least now you could take as long as you wanted with your nap. 

“Is he always like that?”You jumped. You had completely forgotten Peter was still there, and now he was stepping closer to you, taking back the distance you’d put between you to answer your phone call.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your boyf—James, is he always like that? Partying, getting drunk, barhopping?” Right…Peter wasn’t just Peter. He was also Spider-Man, which meant he’d just heard everything. As if this day couldn’t get fucking better. You didn’t need your ex-boyfriend judging your current one, he had no right.

“No.” You frowned. “So what if he likes to party sometimes? Isn’t that what college is about?”

“I’m not attacking him Ace. I guess I was just wondering how the two of you got together when you’re so different. I mean, even to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do, it doesn’t take me to figure out barhopping isn’t your scene.”

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you snapped back, “not anymore at least.”

Peter paused, a look of hurt flashing across his features, as if that were something he hadn’t even considered. A small part of you relished in it, in him knowing things had changed since the last time you’d seen each other, and he couldn’t just ignore that. No amount of pretending would fill in that gap. 

“Goodbye Peter.” You didn’t want to talk about James with him anymore than you already had. 

“The invitation still stands,” he blurted. You gave him a weird look. “To dinner,” he explained, “the invitation still stands. I meant what I said, May would love to have you over, and so would I. So if you’ve ever got the time…” he trailed off.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your face. Only Peter could switch your moods so fast, and you had no doubt he meant it about the dinner, just like you had no doubt he would also completely understand if you ignored his offer altogether. 

“Thank you Petey, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thank you Petey,” 

God he’d bet you didn’t realize it, that the nickname had just rolled off your tongue. You probably hadn’t thought twice about, he, however, certainly had. In fact, the moment hadn’t left his mind. You’d given him a smile so sincere, he would’ve given you anything you asked for just to keep you looking at him like that. And paired with the nickname? He was done for. 

He had sat outside the English building in hopes of finally getting to see you again. He was starting to believe he must be a masochist, because every time he saw you it felt like a punch to the gut. Was it possible for someone to get more beautiful by the second? But he couldn’t help it, he was drawn to you, always had been and always will be. 

The worst of it was when you were with James. God, just thinking the name made his entire mood sour. But seeing the only girl he’d ever loved with someone else made him want to punch something (someone; and that someone was James). And hearing that phone call you’d had with him only further pissed him off. How the hell could he even think to ask you to go barhopping, if he knew you at all he would know that you would much rather prefer a quiet night at home. And it seemed that was exactly what you had planned, before that douchebag cancelled to go out with his friend. 

He had been out patrolling most of the evening and well into the night. Now he was on his way home, it had been a quiet night so he thought he might as well retire early. He could always come back out if need be. That was one of the greater things about college, more freedom, a more flexible schedule, unlike high school. 

Just as he was swinging his way back home, he caught sight of a familiar figure lounging on a fire escape. You were home. Peter hadn’t really spoken to you since he’d caught you walking of class. You’d see each other around, but there was nothing more than brief moments of eye contact. 

You looked peaceful, reading silently as a soft light filtered through your window. He was going to change that. 

He landed softly a couple stories above you. Flipping over, he shot out a web and caught himself so he was hanging upside down. Slowly, he lowered himself until he his head was almost brushing the floor of your fire escape. “How’s it hanging?”

You shrieked, dropping your book in fright. Now, Peter would never want to actually scare you, but he couldn’t help messing around every now and then. 

“What the fuck Peter,” you hissed, one hand resting on your heart as you breathed heavily. Peter righted himself and landed completely in one smooth motion.

He swiped off his mask and grinned. “I thought it was funny.”

You whacked him with your book. 

Peter threw his arms up and cowered slightly, “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Shut up!” You laughed softly, “Someone might hear you.”

He put arms down and fixed you with a serious expression, “Did you or did you not just scream a couple of seconds ago?”

You whacked him with your book again.

Peter was cackling like a madman at this point and it didn’t take long before you were joining him. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, laughing together on your fire escape, a place ripe with memories of your life together before. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked once you’d calmed down and caught your breath again. 

“I was swinging back home when I saw you out here reading. Thought I’d stop by and say hey.”

“Or give me a heart attack,” you murmured. 

He laughed again, “Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not,” you rolled your eyes but your smile escaped. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, grinning. This was nice, so nice. 

You fell into a soft silence, neither of you wanting to break the comfortable atmosphere you’d created. You decided to speak up, but so did he. 

“I wanted to—”

“Ace I—”

You looked at him and held back a laugh. He shook his head softly and smiled. Settling down across from you, Peter stretched his legs out (longer than they were before, and taking up more space, he almost didn’t fit), and he pointed towards you, “You first.”

“Fine. I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you so much since you’ve been back. Its just been…” you fidgeted with your hands and bit your lip, “weird.”

His heart fell a little bit, why in the world would you be apologizing? “Ace, you don’t need to apologize for a thing, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry Ace, I know its weird, I know you had no warning when I just popped back into your life, and I know it’s weird.” He nudged your leg with his and smiled, “Hell I’m lucky your even talking to me right now.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Well it’s not like you gave me much of a choice, you cornered me on my own fire escape!”

He laughed. “True, I guess.” Peter added a dramatic sigh before his next sentence, hoping to hide how nervous he actually felt, “I could always go if you want me to.”

“No,” you said softly, “I don’t mind.”

Peter felt like doing a happy dance.

“What’re you doing home?” He asked. He knew you had your own apartment near campus (with Alyssa, he’d learned. He quickly, learned how close you two were, he was glad you had a friend like that.) and he  couldn’t think of a specific reason you’d be home. 

“My mom bought some new furniture and she asked me to come help her put it together. I figured I’d just spend the night.”

“Oh? I thought she was banned from shopping?”

“She was! Until she wasn’t.” You laughed out loud, making Peter laugh as well. 

The night went on like that, you and Peter sharing simple conversation. You avoided touching on the touchier subjects for now. You weren’t exactly ignoring them, both of you knew they were there, sitting beside you as you conversed, waiting to be picked apart and discussed at length. It just seemed that the two of you had silently reached an agreement, that for now, you’d enjoy whatever peace you’d found. Because at the end of the day, first and foremost, you two had been friends. The bigger things could come later. 

It had been a week since that night on your fire escape wand you were actually starting to think you could handle Peter being back. Seeing him around had been brief lately, you suspected he was finally getting settled in his classes and his life here, but when you did see him it was easier. Less tension-filled. Unless James was around, that made it harder. 

You were laying on the couch in your living room, Lyss laying opposite you, both your legs meeting in the middle. The two of you were watching Pride & Prejudice (the 2005 one, of course, because no one really cared about the 1995 series) while a bowl of popcorn lay half-eaten on the coffee table in front of you. 

You reached out and grabbed a handful of popcorn, “Kiera Knightley is so fine.”

“Tell me about it, oh my god,” Lyss exclaimed, dramatically fanning herself. “I watched ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ when I was younger, I’ve never been the same since.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Peter and I watched them all together during one of our summer breaks, and that scene with her and Orlando Bloom had me practically drooling.” You giggled. 

“Speaking of Peter,” the way she said it had you thinking she’d been dying to bring this subject up, “how’s that going?”

“Um…good. Well, better, I guess is the right word. Things are going better than the first few times I saw him around but of course there’s still that weirdness.”

“God, I still cant get over how crazy it is that he just randomly pops up here, outta nowhere!” You’d always talked about Peter with Lyss, you’d told her your history with him long before he’d shown up, but now she could finally put a face to the name. 

“You’re telling me,” you snorted. “I saw him when I went back home last week,” you shook your head, “we talked on my fire escape like we used to. It was almost unreal.”

“Weren’t you guys no contact since winter break of freshman year?” She asked. 

You hummed in confirmation and she whistled. “So he hasn’t given you some grand love proposal, has he?”

You choked on a laugh, “No. Of course not.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged casually, “you don’t transfer to the school you know your ex-girlfriend attends, join the paper you know she’s on, and hang out on her fire escape where you hung out when you were together unless you still have feelings.”

Frowning, you popped some more popcorn your mouth. You didn’t want to believe Peter still had feelings for you, it would make everything so much harder.of course, there was something there, and if you were being honest, there probably always would be. You were each other’s first loves and that didn’t just disappear into thin air. 

But Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Lyss leaned over and poked your cheek, “Don’t pout, I was only kidding. Sorta.”

“I know,” you said, shooting her a smile. 

“Stop thinking about him and start think about the killer article you’re going to write me about tomorrow.” She shot you a wink. 

Right. The competition was tomorrow. And you were going with James. 

“OH! Hand clench scene!” Lyss jumped up, tearing you away from your thoughts. 

Peter had left you, and you had a boyfriend now. Everything else was irrelevant.

Tomorrow should make a great distraction.

The venue was beautiful. You made your way around, stopping to appreciate every photograph, taking in all the details of the art hanging on every inch of the walls. You loved it. 

You looked up at James and grinned, “Do you get it now?”

He smiled and shook his head, “To be honest with you, nah.” He smirked at you, “But I’m here with the prettiest girl in the whole school, so what does it matter?”

You flushed and looked down at the empty notepad in your hands, by the end of the night it was probably going to be full. You were going to walk around taking notes of all the unique pieces, but the biggest part of your job today would be later, when they announce the winners. There were three runner ups and then, of course, the first place winner. You’d be speaking to all of them tonight, longer with the winner. 

Just as you’d told James, this thing had a dress code. He had gone for a navy jacket with a white button down underneath, and a pair of white slacks. You were wearing a pretty black dress that fell to just below your knees; it had a soft tulle layer that swished as you walked and floral embroidery that ran along the whole thing, the green of the vines and soft pink of the flowers popping out with the darker undertone. You felt good about tonight, really good. Alyssa had chosen to give you this big piece of news and you weren’t going to let her down. 

You walked around the venue hand-in-hand with James, getting familiar with the art and the artists, stopping by to compliment a few that really popped out to you. Your favorite so far was a stunning picture taken by a girl named Macy, she’d captured of Bow Bridge at Central Park. She’d used some kind of vintage camera giving the photo an ethereal, elegant, romantic feel to it, with the flowers on the bushes, the green of the scenery, and the golden glow on the bridge and the people walking upon it and boating on the waters beneath it, if it was up to you this would definitely be picked as first place. 

You’d tried to get James to see the same beauty you saw in the picture, the almost fantastical vibe of it, looking more like a painting than reality, but he hadn’t understood, claiming it was ‘just a picture of the park’ leaving you more than a little disappointed. Maybe some people really just didn’t understand art. 

“Think we’ve seen almost everything,” you murmured to James as you looked around to see if there was a place you hadn’t been yet. 

“Actually, there’s a few on the other side of that wall we haven’t seen yet,” he pointed, “been seeing lots of people come in and out of there. I think one of the winners might be there.”

“Oh my gosh I completely missed that part, thanks!” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, making him grin. “Anytime babe.”

That would be your last happy moment of the night. 

You walked through the photos slowly and marveled at how, when it came to art, everyone truly had their own style. Each piece had a tag beside it, conveying the name of the work and the name of the photographer. Though most of the presenters liked to hover near their piece in case anyone had questions or wanted to know more, it was easier this way for the judges to get the information they needed. 

You were talking to someone about their picture when James nudged you. “Is that Peter?”

He pointed to your left, and you saw the side-profile of Peter talking to someone with his arms crossed. Peter was here? Well, it did make sense, he was a photographer after all. This was more than his scene. 

“He’s probably here to get pictures for the paper,” you shrugged. 

James held your hand a little tighter as the two of you walked through some more photos. “Alright, this is getting boring,” James sighed heavily. 

“Really?” you frowned, “I really like it. I think its fun.”

He eyed you, “You already got the article babe, you don’t have to put on an act anymore.”

You laughed lightly, but you weren’t really finding this funny, “I’m not acting! Did you see ‘love in the air’? I don’t think I’ve ever seen something more beautiful.” That was the name of the piece you’d loved, and you had to say, it was accurate. It was like looking through rose-tinted-glasses, finding the lovely in everything. 

“The one of the park?” James rolled his eyes, “it’s Central Park, there’s nothing special about it.” You were opening your mouth to argue when he cut you off, “They’re just photos, babe. Now, when are they gonna announce the winners so we can get outta here?”

You frowned and looked down at your watch. There was only about half an hour until winners were announced. You were going to write down something in your notepad when you heard James mutter a curse under his breath and come to a stop beside you, his hand going limp in yours. 

“What? What is it—” you looked up to see what had gotten him and you really wished you hadn’t. In front of you hung a piece you hadn’t seen before, this particular photograph, or photographs as it was more of a collage, had something none of the other ones didn’t…you. 

“Who…?” But it was no use because you knew who, and so did James. 

Neither of you needed to look at the tag to know who the contestant was, but you did anyway. 

‘Seasonal’

By: Peter Parker

It was a bright, colorful, collage conveying the changes of the seasons. One corner had bounds of snowflakes and different clips of snowy fields and icicles, stretching out to merge with the corner opposite of it, summer. Bright blue waves, soft tufts of sand. Both corner melted down the sides of the poster board to create spring, which was full of beautiful, soft colored flowers, sprouting up as if just given life. The project was beautiful, you had to admit. You’d known Peter had a knack for photography but all these photos, the dedication to this project, was extremely admirable. There had to be hundreds of photos, cut up, some bigger than others, and perfectly arranged with each other to create this harmonic view of nature, all taken by him,  

But the problem was the center. Autumn. Which was you. It took up the middle body of the collage, it was dead center. Unlike the other seasons, this one didn’t have multiple photos bringing it together, it was the key piece, all the others worked to make this one shine. 

That picture Peter had taken of you in Central Park, the one where he’d gotten you to lay on a pile of leaves, made you laugh so he could capture the perfect shot. You’d forgotten about it, honestly, you weren’t even sure if you’d seen it after it was taken. But now, here it was, over two years later, submitted in a fucking photography competition. 

“What do you think?” You weren’t sure how long you were there, staring at that photo of yourself, it could’ve been hours, days even, before that heart-wrenchingly familiar voice.

You turned around quickly, coming face to face with Peter, who was looking at you with a heavy expression. You had seen him earlier when James pointed him out, but it was from across a crowded room and you’d only seen his side. He towered over you now, in a black button down, with black slacks and a black belt. You knew you shouldn’t even be thinking it, but he looked good. His shirt fit him perfectly, hugging him in all the right places, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick forearms. It wasn’t until he crossed them over his chest and looked at you expectantly that you realized you were staring and he was waiting on an answer. 

Before you could give it to him, James spoke up, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” His voice was low and angrier than you’d ever heard it, causing alarm bells to go off in your head. Peter didn’t bother even acknowledging him, his eyes were solely on you, and that seemed to piss him off even more. 

“You think this shit’s funny?” James growled. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Peter rolled his eyes.

You stood shell-shocked in your place, unsure of what to do. “That’s it,” James said, “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” He stepped forward suddenly, making you jump into action. 

“Stop it,” you hissed, but he wasn’t listening, walking from your side right up to Peter. 

His previous remarks had gained the attention from the small groups of people who were close enough to hear them. 

“Take it down,” he said as he got up in Peter’s face. Peter, to his credit, didn’t budge an inch. In fact, he was looking at James as if he were nothing more than an annoying fly buzzing past. James stood at least a couple inches taller than Peter, and yet he wasn’t the most intimidating one here, not by a mile. 

“No, but I’d be happy to take you down,” with a damn smile on his face. You wanted to slap them both. 

“You little—”

“Enough!” You stepped in, throwing your arm between them and holding it against James’ chest. You weren’t going to sit there and let them throw hands at an event like this, especially not over you. 

Peter sucked in a breath, eyeing the arm you had strapped across James’ front in a feeble attempt to hold him back. Something unreadable shone in his eyes, and his jaw ticked as he met your glare.

“You are not doing this here,” you said in a hard voice, refusing to look at Peter anymore and instead staring up at James. His face was stone and his eyes were set on Peter, whose eyes were set on you. 

It was like some crazy triangle or something. 

A part of you wondered what a photo of this particular moment would look like. You imagined it would be named something like ‘Lovers Quarrel’. Finally, after what felt like forever, James’ gaze finally slid down toward you. He worked his jaw for a moment before stepping back. “I need to get some air,” he mumbled. Without bothering another glance at either of you, he turned and headed for the exit.

You stood in place, eyes stuck on his retreating figure, when you heard Peter scoff. “Can you believe that guy?”

Rage flew through your blood. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on Ace,” but his voice didn’t sound as sure as before and you could’ve laughed at the thought of him thinking you’d agree with him, “you know I didn’t start that.”

It was your turn to scoff, “Maybe not, but you didn’t hesitate to tell him how you’d take him down.”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” He asked weakly. All that confidence and haughtiness from earlier was gone, standing before you was just Peter. But you were starting to think you didn’t know Peter anymore. What you’d said to him before, about him not knowing you anymore, you’d said mostly to hurt him. But now…you wondered if there were more truth to your words than you realized. 

Sometimes there were moments like that night on your fire escape and it was like things had never changed, he’d never moved hundreds of miles away and the two of you were back just hanging out, the oldest of friends. Two people who knew each other better than anyone else ever would. 

And then there were moments like tonight.

You eyed him curiously, disappointment all over your features. You knew he hadn’t liked James but for him to genuinely partake in a fight…

“I don’t know Peter. I don’t know you anymore.” And you turned to walk in the same direction you’d seen James headed to before, but not before you glimpsed the hurt on Peter’s face. 

Stepping out the doors, you were hit with a warm breeze and the sound of New York traffic. Shuddering at the sudden change of temperature (the venue had the AC on blast, stepping outside felt like a warm hug) you looked around for James. You caught him leaning against the side of the building with a hand running through his hair. 

“Hey,” you said softly, approaching on light feet as you moved to the same wall, leaning right across from him. 

“Hey,” he deadpanned, not meeting your eyes. 

Your heart swelled with guilt. You didn’t know why; you knew you shouldn’t feel guilty, you didn’t do anything wrong and you had no clue Peter was going to do that, or be here at all. But he just looked so angry right now and you couldn’t help feeling like it was sort of your fault. 

“I’m sorry.” You wanted something, anything. Anything other than that cold look in his eyes. You wanted him to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that he wasn’t angry, not at you, just at the situation. 

He didn’t do any of that. 

After a few seconds and still no answer you raised a hand to brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen into his face in a way you thought would comfort him, but that only had him swerving to avoid your touch as if your hand were made of fire. 

You retracted it, your heart swelling with hurt. Ouch. Okay, so maybe he was mad at you. “James…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure what to say, you were afraid the slightest thing would set him off even more. 

He shook his head, jaw so clenched you were afraid it would snap. “No,” he ran a hand over his face, “Nah, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You asked exasperated, “I don’t understand, what’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal?” He sneered with venom in his voice, and you regretted saying anything at all. “The big deal is—” he cut himself off with a harsh laugh, “Honestly Y/N, if you don’t see it you’re even more blind than I thought.”

Just then, a noise sounded from inside the venue. Microphone feedback. The awards were about to be handed out. You could hear one of the judges introducing himself. You stared at James wordlessly. You didn’t want to go inside and leave things like this but you also didn’t see how you could say or do anything that would fix it. 

“James, I swear I had no idea about that,” you cleared your throat, willing your voice not to break, “I didn’t even know he’d be here.”

He wouldn’t even look at you, nodding and staring out onto the street, and that felt like an even bigger hurt. Why wouldn’t he just listen? As if he’d willed it with his eyes, a car pulled up to the curb right in front of you, tearing your gaze away from him for a moment. James walked away from you, hand settling on the handle of the backseat door and realization hit you hard, cold, and fast.

He hadn’t been waiting for you to follow him, to talk things out and make things right again. He’d just been waiting for his ride. 

Without even bothering another look your way, “Good luck with your fucking article.”

I don’t know you anymore.

I don’t know you anymore. 

I don’t know you anymore. 

It was the only thing that had been running through his brain since the last syllable had rolled off of your tongue.

How could you say that? How could you even think it? Did you seriously believe that? Did you truly think that he was so different from the boy you once loved, the boy you’d dreamed of a future with, a shared future?

His head was buzzing with thoughts about you and what you’d said when he felt hands on his shoulders pushing him. Looking around, he realized everyone was staring at him. The hands on his shoulders were pushing him forward. 

“Go, Peter,” someone beside him whispered, one of the other photographers from the paper, Ryan, who’d been standing beside him in the crowd, he realized, “you won!”

Right. He’d been so focused on you that he’d completely forgotten where he was for a moment. Shortly after you’d walked away from him, the award ceremony had begun. He didn’t even remember walking over here, or the introductions, or any other people being awarded

He wordlessly made his way onto the stage, vaguely recalled shaking someone’s hand, being handed something, a ribbon maybe? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anything except he was on stage, everyone was clapping for him, and he was looking for you. 

The closest thing he could find was the photograph of you, also on the stage, sitting in the first place slot beside him. This was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was his fault. You were so excited for this article, you’d told him as much and he could see it, and he’d never wanted to ruin it for you.

To his side stood a petite blond girl, looking to be around his age, hovering close to another photograph. It was a lovely, romantic photo of Central Park. He recalled seeing it earlier as he was roaming around the venue checking out the other pieces. It had caught his attention because it reminded him of you. 

It made his heart deflate even more. 

More chatter ensued, followed by more applause and Peter tried his best not to look so uncomfortable (May had repeatedly informed him he always looked like he was about to be sick when he was too stressed, and he didn’t want anyone thinking he was about to vomit all over his newly awarded first-prize-winning piece and all the other winners). 

At this point, he couldn’t wait for his cue to get off this godforsaken stage so he could find you and apologize. It was the least he could do but hopefully it would make things at least a little better. 

“What do you say Mr. Parker?”

He whipped his head toward the speaker. Todd Kravinski, the man running this whole thing, the same one who’d called him up here earlier and handed him the ribbon (and a check, apparently, but Peter hadn’t realized that until after) had asked him something and he’d completely missed it. 

“I—I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

Mr. Kravinski chuckled, and Peter let out a forced laugh. “C’mere kid, they’re gonna wanna get your picture, and maybe a little statement for the paper.” His stomach lurched at that last part. You were going to be taking his statement for the paper. You were going to be the one who described his piece and take the pictures he taken and turn them into words. Selfishly, he couldn’t wait to hear what you thought.

Peter walked instructed to stand near his piece, hold up his ribbon and check, and smile. He was paraded around, forced into handshakes, shoving out smiles until the corners of his mouth and his cheeks ached, and patted on the back more times than he could count. And yet all he could think about was you. 

It wasn’t until the parading around was coming to an end that he looked up from some stranger congratulating him and caught your eye, standing a few steps back, talking to Lewis, he was third runner-up and they’d been standing beside each other earlier on the stage. Peter swore his whole body froze when he saw you, every time he caught your eye it felt like the two of you were sharing a whole conversation no one else was privy to, even now after being gone for almost 2 whole years, he could feel that familiar warmth, the sensual tug of that bond the two of you would only ever share with each other. And it was so familiar, so soft, so wholly you and him, he could’ve cried. 

But then you looked away. And he could’ve cried for completely different reasons. 

He made quick work of excusing himself from his current conversation and walked over to where you were chatting up Lewis, writing down things in a small notepad. He found you so incredibly adorable standing there, biting your lip in concentration as you scribbled down something she’d just told you, careful not to miss any details.

“Hey Lewis,” he approached the two of you, your head shooting up at the familiar voice, “Congrats on runner-up, your piece was amazing.” 

They shook hands with each other, “You too man, congrats. That was one hell of a collage.”

“Thanks, hey do you mind if I steal Y/N away for a bit? I’ve been meaning to speak with her.”

“Not at all, I think we’re pretty much done here.” Lewis looked at you to confirm you’d gotten all you need. Peter could tell you very much wanted to protest and he caught your subtle glance down at your notepad. It didn’t take a genius to know you were pondering what other questions you might’ve missed that could keep you from being alone with Peter, but it seemed you couldn’t find anything because you ended up giving Lewis a tight-lipped smile. 

“Thanks for talking with me. I loved your photo, and congratulations again.”

“Thank you. can’t wait to read it,” Lewis replied, walking off with a wink in your direction. 

You immediately looked down, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes after Lewis turned his back, instead taking a enormous interest in your shoes. 

Peter cleared his throat, “Ace, can we talk?”

“Talk about what?” You finally looked up. Peter was fluent in all things Y/N, yet he knew that he didn’t need to be to see the unhappiness etched on your features. Your countenance was all hard lines and and furrowed brows and—were your eyes red? Had you been crying? 

“Seriously Peter, what do you wanna talk about? The part where you entered into a competition you knew damn well I’d be covering, the part where you entered and won using a picture of me without telling me, the part where you tried to pick a fight with my boyfriend about it, or the part where you tried to get me to side with you?”

“Ace, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go down the way they did,” he tried helplessly. He didn’t want to argue with you, mostly because he’d never cared for it, even when you were together, but also because he didn’t want to feel any worse. 

You sniffled and it felt like a kick to the gut. His thought from earlier resurfaced, and this time it was because he was completely fluent in you that he knew you hadn’t cried yet. Between whatever had happened when you’d left to find James and now, you’d gotten upset but you hadn’t cried and it was breaking him to see you trying so hard to keep that composure. 

“Well they did,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze once more as you crossed your arms and looked to the side. 

All Peter really wanted to do was pry your arms open, break the protective stance you’d taken up, and pull you into a bone-crushing hug that was much need by the both of you if you asked him. But he couldn’t do that. “I’m so sorry Ace. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’ve done enough.” He wasn’t really expecting you to accept his offer, but the rejection still hurt. 

“Well, what about with the article? How can I help with that?” He hadn’t let himself think it but he was excited about the extra time with you that came with first place. Maybe there was a silver lining in all this.

“Thanks but no.” Maybe not. “Actually, I—I should go.”

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to protest. He wanted you. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t have any of the things he wanted and the same thought kept floating through his head:

It’s all my fault.

The leaves rustled around you as you walked, the breeze carried with it a certain smell you could only find on the streets of New York during this time of year. You were on the brink of summer, the nature around you was peaking. The flowers were fully bloomed, the grass a delicious shade of green, birds chirped merrily, and you felt like shit.

You and James hadn’t talked since he’d left last night after the whole thing with Peter. You’d sent texts, called multiple times, left voicemails most of those times, you weren’t quite sure what else there was to do. You should probably go to his place. Maybe you should’ve even gone last night, but…you weren’t up for it yet. Not then and not now.

And then there was Peter.

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker. 

Leaving last night was a stupid idea. You were already there, you should’ve asked him a few quick questions and got it over with. Now you’d have to make time to see him, and you weren’t sure how that would go over with James, article or not.

It had felt like your heart had short-circuited when you’d seen that photo on the wall. How long had he planned that? Obviously he was aware you were going to see it…what had he thought your reaction would be? What had he thought James’ reaction would be? He probably hadn’t thought of James at all, if you were being honest with yourself.

It still felt crazy to think he was back in the city. You’d seen the news reports of Spider-Man once again in New York. The first one had popped up the same day you’d ran into him. You caught yourself thinking about him often as you walked around campus, knowing he was there somewhere as well, walking those same grounds (or swinging maybe). It was weird. It was weird working with him on the paper and yet…there was something when you were with Peter, something you hadn’t felt in almost 2 years. Something a part of you knew, deep down, that you would never feel with anyone else.

“Funny seeing you here.” You’d know that voice absolutely anywhere. It was how you’d first discovered him as Spider-Man, after all.

You turned, coming face-to-face with Peter. He was in a dark grey t-shirt that fit him like a glove, dark washed jeans, and a beat up pair of converse he’d had since you’d known him. He looked every bit the boy you once knew, only less boy and more man now. That was another change you hadn’t gotten used to. 

“Is it?” You asked, because something in his tone told you he’d expected to find you here.

“No,” he shook his head, “I remembered you always came for walks here when you were having a rough time and after everything that happened last night…lucky guess.”

Stupid, annoying, confusing, infuriating, Peter Parker.

Of course, he knew where to find you. “You always were a genius.” You said as you continued to walk slowly, Peter picking up pace to stride beside you. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, to figure you out. I know you Ace, no matter what, I’ll always know you.”

James doesn’t know you, he never would’ve known where to find you and you weren’t even sure he’d bother looking—

No, you had to stop that. Comparing the two of them wasn’t going to get you anywhere except all stuck in your head. Peter wasn’t yours, not anymore, no matter how well he knew you. He’d made sure of that. 

“Well did you want something?” You weren’t exactly being pleasant, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t believe you’d apologized to him for being ‘snappy’ because right now all you could think was how much he deserved it. 

He stopped his walking and grabbed your elbow, stopping you as well, “I know I was a dick last night, hell, I know I’ve been a dick to you far before last night, but I wanna make it up to you if you’ll let me. I care about you Ace. I always will.”

You didn’t care about me when you ghosted me, you didn’t care about me when you stood me up on winter break, you didn’t care about me when you left me and moved all the way to North Carolina—

That wasn’t going to do anything but make you miserable, and even more snappy. You sucked in a deep breath. He was here. Might as well get what you needed from him, right?

“I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions, y’know, just basic stuff. For the article.”

Peter grinned as if that was exactly what he was hoping you’d say. “Yeah, yeah sure. Of course, anything.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. He was so ready and willing to give you everything you asked for, you were sure if you demanded he hand you his wallet, he wouldn’t object. 

You pulled out your notepad and pen from your tote bag, extremely grateful you always kept them on hand. Flipping open to a new page, you clicked your pen, flipped your hair over your shoulder, and cleared your throat, “Social security number, date of birth, and the last thing you ate in full detail?”

Peter choked out a laugh, “Um, okay. I don’t have it memorized, August 10th 2001, and a medium toasted bagel with extra cream cheese, no seasoning.”

“No seasoning?” You asked, scrunching up your nose in disgust. “What, so you just like plain, boring bagels like an old man?”

“Hey,” he jumped to his own defense, “no hating on plain bagels! They’re like the vanilla ice cream of the bagel world, classic. You can never go wrong with a plain bagel. It can never be too much, it can never be too little. It’s just right.”

You snorted, “Alright, keep it in your pants Parker, I think I’ve heard enough. Plain bagels rock.”

“Damn right they do,” he deadpanned. 

Chuckling, you remembered something. “Oh my god, are you talking about the bagels from the little cafe next to the library?”

“Yeah! You know it?”

“Know it? Oh my god I practically moved in there during finals week. Have you tried their muffins? You would love them. I know you always hated when muffins are baked too dry because—”

“It’s like eating sand.” You both said in unison. You stared up at him, but he was already looking at you. He had this look in his eyes that was so wholly Peter, you almost couldn’t stand it. It took everything in you but you broke eye contact, clearing your throat before you continued speaking, “So um—tell about your photograph. What was the inspiration behind it? Why did you choose that piece?”

“Photography is often about telling a story, or at least part of it, and this piece…it means a lot to me.” You held your breath as he spoke. “I love the feeling of the picture, or rather, pictures. My piece tells a story about nature. I tried to show the beauty in all aspects of it, and while doing that, I tried to tell a story of my own.”

You tried your hardest not too think to hard about what he was saying. Which was hard considering you were literally the fucking center of this piece he was speaking of. “Your piece was a very well laid-out collage, how long did it take you to put it together?”

“Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, a gesture so familiar it felt like your heart was crying, “well I joined pretty last minute, so about a week, but I was cramming the whole time.”

You went quiet for a few minutes before coming up with your next question. “Was that your first choice? The piece I mean.” It wasn’t really relevant to the article but…you were curious. 

“I was going to do something with constellations,” he admitted. 

Oh. Thank god he didn’t. You might’ve lost your mind. 

“But those are harder to catch on camera, and I entered last minute,” he finished. “Plus,” he added, looking up at the clear blue morning sky, “my favorites are mostly visible during autumn.”

You felt like your heart was going to stop. So much history, so many unspoken things between the two of you. A part of you swore you could feel the tension wrapping itself around you and tightening, making it harder and harder to breathe the more time you spent with him. 

You don’t know how long the two of you walked in silence before he finally spoke up again, his voice hoarser than it was a few moments ago. “I thought of you every night you know.” You didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. “You could see them more clearly over there, the stars, and I thought of you every time. Not just because of the stars but…they were just a bigger reminder.”

“Peter—”

“You never did tell me what you thought of it. The collage.”

You paused. You weren’t sure what you thought of it. Objectively it was a great piece, beautiful, maybe one of his best works. It had won first place for a reason. But how the hell were you supposed to be objective about any of this? “I—I think it was well-deserving of its award.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Seriously Ace? Save that kinda talk for the article, tell me the truth.”

You paused, trying to figure out the right words. Taking in a deep breath, you said, “It was beautiful Pete, even if it was a little weird just seeing myself like that. I think it might be one of the most creative and beautiful things you’ve created. I understand what you mean,” gentler now, “about the feelings and the story and everything…I think you portrayed that really well.”

It went quiet between the two of you again and you wondered if you shouldn’t have said that. You were about to make up another question but he beat you to it, “I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn’t coming back here for you, that I didn’t have any expectations for us and that this whole transfer was completely irrelevant to how we ended things but that isn’t true. And I always knew it deep down, but I hit me like a bag of bricks when I saw you again.”

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be really saying all this, you had to be dreaming. You had a boyfriend, Peter broke up with you, he didn’t want you any more. Right? He couldn’t just come here after not talking to you for over a year and claim he transferred schools because of you. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to just dump all that on you. 

“You were doing fine over there Peter, I heard everything. You had amazing grades, you were winning awards. You basically owned that school. So why’d you come back?”

“Okay, well you’re kinda over exaggerating. It wasn’t that great.”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes, “Don’t give me that bullshit, yeah it was. It was everything you were wishing it would be.”

“No it wasn’t!” He burst out, hands running through his hair. “I tried to enjoy it Ace, I really did. But I couldn’t.” He looked at you with a pained expression. “I should’ve been having the time of my life, because yeah, in theory, it was everything I could’ve wished for. But I couldn’t enjoy a goddamn thing knowing you were over here, living a whole life I wasn’t a part of. Being away from you killed me Ace, everything I said to you on graduation? That shit ripped my fucking heart out. I didn’t want it anymore than you did.”

Tears collected in his waterline and you felt a lump in your throat. Were you finally getting the explanation you’d dreamed and hoped for over and over? Why did you feel so nauseous? “I probably wanted it less, if I’m being honest,” he laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I hated it over there Ace, not a second went by where you weren’t on my mind, not a night went by where you weren’t in my dreams. I know this is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard but you need to believe me, I thought I was doing what was right that day on graduation. I really, truly thought that you would be happier if I did that. Not at first maybe, but eventually.” His voice got quieter and he sounded so raw, so emotional, you almost burst into sobs, “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, I just want you to be happy Y/N.”

You swore you felt your heart split in half. Peter never called you by your name. Not since that night on your fire escape when you’d patched him up after a rough night of being Spider-Man and he first bestowed upon you his personal title, claiming that it ‘just suited you’. 

You froze. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what you were feeling, but it was a lot. “I—I have,” you cleared your throat to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Ace, wait, please.”

But you didn’t. This time, you were the one who ran away.

‘seasonal’ taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything @lov3vivian

@starsformiles @rkivesfilm

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (Teaser)

Posting Date: Tuesday, December 19th, 7:00 PM CT

Creative Collaborator: @kithtaehyung FOR THIS AMAZING BANNER!

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration!

Estimated WC: 45K (... whoops; this will probably be multiple parts)

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,141

Y/N POV

You should have known better than to trust Namjoon with your dating life.

Yoongi never would have put you in this situation. The more level-headed of your two best friends, Yoongi approaches matters of the heart with the same rationality he does everything else. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a great guy – who is notoriously bad at reading other people.

The number of times you’ve been forced to step in and save him from phone scams is astounding. It’s not his fault, really – Namjoon trusts too easily, which doesn’t serve him well in this world. He’s always willing to give others the benefits of the doubt, which gets him into trouble. 

And now you, by extension, having accepted the blind date he proposed.

Mike Davis moved into Namjoon’s building two months ago, and Namjoon has been adamant since the start that you two would hit it off.

“He goes to all the same conventions you do,” he assured you last week on the phone.

“Which conventions?” you asked, squinting hard at the wall. “I know you’re not big into nerd culture, Namjoon, so as an FYI – not all cons are considered equal.”

Namjoon rattled off a few you’d attended, impressing you enough to agree despite the initial disinterest. This agreement may have been spurred by tonight being the three-month anniversary of the worst break-up of your life.

Almost as soon as you sat, you realized your mistake. While you may have reached a point where you don’t cry every time your ex’s name is mentioned, the prospect of dating someone else is an entirely different matter. Getting dressed up felt strange, as did traveling to the restaurant and waiting for Mike at the bar.

The fact that Mike called this place a ‘restaurant’ should have been your first clue, as Hat Trick is most definitely a sports bar – specifically, a hockey bar. Had you known (really, you should have known), you wouldn’t have gone, but you were nervous and trying to make a good impression. Upon arriving, you arranged yourself awkwardly on a sticky bar stool and waited seven minutes for Mike to walk in.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself regretting coming at all. Mike excused himself two minutes ago for the bathroom and as soon as he left, you sagged with relief.

He’s a nice guy, you suppose. Good looking, with light brown curls and dark eyes. You can see why Namjoon thought he might be good for you – Mike is the exact opposite of your ex in many ways. Constantly frazzled, he arrived late to the bar, only to immediately duck outside because he forgot to pay the parking meter. Jimin was the type to unpack his suitcase immediately after reaching the hotel and brought several chargers in case one of them died.

Once the meter was paid, Mike sat down and immediately launched into his entire life story. You suppose you should have been happy about this, since lack of communication ended your last relationship but instead, found yourself overwhelmed. 

Mike finally paused for breath once your drinks arrived, allowing you a moment to answer his questions. The moment you said you ran a pretty popular cosplay TikTok, Mike instantly shifted from arrogant to insecure. 

“I can’t believe you came,” he exhaled with a shake of his head. “When Namjoon showed me your picture, I said no way would you go out with me. You’re way too beautiful.”

Somewhat awkward, you laughed. “Don’t try and get me to leave, now, Mike.”

His eyes widened, not catching your sarcasm and it took several moments to get back on track. Everything since has been downhill, so when he excused himself for the bathroom, all you felt was relief.

Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone and swipe to the group chat.

Y/N: Namjoon, WHAT possessed you to set me up with this man [7:46 PM]

Yoongi’s reply comes immediately.

Yoongi: told you it was too soon [7:46 PM]

Namjoon’s ellipses join in.

Namjoon: what! Why? What happened?? Mike didn’t try something on you, did he? [7:47 PM]

Y/N: no, no – nothing like that [7:47 PM]

Y/N: he just keeps saying how *amazing* I am and how he doesn’t know why I’m on this date at all [7:47 PM]

Yoongi: dude [7:48 PM]

Y/N: EXACTLY [7:48 PM]

Before Namjoon can respond, the bartender changes the channel and an all-too-familiar name blares over the speakers. Slowly, you look up, and all thoughts of Mike fade, faced with NHL coverage.

Nope, no – absolutely not.

Leaning over the counter, you lightly tap the bartender. “Hi.” Brightly, you smile. “First off, could I have another glass of white wine? And then, maybe… could you change the channel?”

Glancing around, the guy shakes his head. “Yes, to the wine, but no, the channel,” he says with a shrug. “Half the people in here came to watch the game. Pre-show coverage is part of that.”

With an apologetic nod, he grabs a rag and disappears. Sinking back in your seat, you stare at your hands, clasped tightly together. Your spot at the bar puts you in the unfortunate position of hearing each word the announcers say crystal-clear.

“Well, Josh, what chance do you think the Blackhawks have tonight?”

The silver-haired man beside him bobs his head. “Steve, I’d say their chances are pretty darn good. You’ve seen this team’s early games. Their first line is strong, especially now that Park’s back.”

“Oh, absolutely – Jimin Park has been crucial in the last couple of games. He was sorely missed last season.”

“Ha! You can say that again.”

Trying to hide your wince, you clasp your hands tighter as a fresh glass of wine is set down. “Thanks,” you mutter, downing half in one gulp.

Immediately, your plans for later tonight shift to accommodate another bottle of wine. Movement catches the corner of your eye, and, despite yourself, you watch the montage of star right winger, Jimin Park, tearing his way down the ice. Shamefully, you recognize every shot since, although you broke up in September, you continued to watch every game.

“One of the most talked about moments last year in hockey was the late check on Park by Blues player, Brent Howard,” continues the announcer, Josh. “His helmet came loose when he hit the boards, and he went down hard on the ice. Park suffered a sprained knee and herniated a disc in his neck. A complicated surgery took him for most of the season, only starting to skate with the team again over the summer.”

Hearing the trauma recounted with such callousness, you find yourself gripping your wine glass tighter than before.

“I don’t think anyone ever expected Park to play again,” agrees the other announcer, Steve. “It’s a damned miracle he’s back on the ice – but to return and be this good? Park has always been one of the best right wingers in the league, but I’d say he’s the best offensive player on the ice right now.”

“A bold claim!” laughs Josh. “But I might just agree. Even Jungkook Jeon on the Rangers hasn’t been matching Park in assists.”

“Exactly! I mean, look at the numbers. Last year, the Blackhawks barely made the playoffs and now, they’re first in the Western Conference.”

“Truly amazing, given the nature of his injury last November. I don’t know how familiar you are with herniated discs, Steve, but –”

Mike slides back onto his stool. Grateful for the distraction, you turn fully to face him. Having already lived through the injury once, you have no need to reminisce. Replacing your phone in your purse, you smile gamely at Mike.

“So,” you say, attempting to save the conversation. “Namjoon mentioned you like conventions? What fandoms are you a part of?”

“Oh.” Mike loosely shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of any of them.”

At his dismissive tone, you stiffen. Your experience with the male side of fandom is always a toss-up. “Well, there are a lot of them. Any that are more mainstream?”

He considers. “Marvel?”

Stunned, you blink once or twice. Marvel has to be one of the biggest fandoms on the planet, let alone in the country. Even if you weren’t deep in the convention circuit, you’d have heard of Marvel.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“Cool, cool.” Mike nods. “Namjoon said you do cosplay – and showed me your TikTok! You know, you’d make a great Wonder Woman.”

You can practically feel your jaw tighten. “That’s DC, not Marvel. But thanks.”

Silent, you add for nothing. While you love Wonder Woman and have, in fact, cosplayed her many times, men usually only request her for one reason and that’s the skimpy outfit. Whenever you cosplay as circa 2010 Wonder Woman in pants, they’re decidedly less interested. By now, you’ve learned only to pick your characters based on personal interest.

“Have you ever cosplayed?” you ask.

Unbidden, your gaze slides to the TV. Commercial break. Stifling your twinge of disappointment, you refocus on Mike.

“Nah.” His nose wrinkles, and your stomach sinks further. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Hearing your tone, his eyes widen. “I mean, it’s cool for you. I saw your TikToks and you look amazing. I’d just look dumb,” Mike says, attempting a laugh.

Sweetly, you smile. “I don’t know. My ex used to cosplay with me, and no one ever laughed at him.”

Admittedly, this is something of a low blow since your ex-boyfriend is Jimin Park, but either Namjoon didn’t tell him, or Mike doesn’t care. Which – if that’s so, maybe Mike deserves more credit than you gave him. 

“Ah.” He nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about cosplaying as Wonder Woman, though?”

Your smile vanishes. Then again, maybe you’ve given him exactly the right amount of credit.

“I have,” you say. “But more recently, I’ve been cosplaying Dimension 20 characters. It’s kind of niche, but my last character was Sundry Sidney from A Starstruck Odyssey. You know – giant machine gun arm, roller skates and a mechanical eye. Oh, and a ‘fuck erotica ann’ button, of course.”

Mike’s smile freezes. “Why… would you dress like that?”

“Because it’s fun.” Finishing your glass of wine, you toss a few bills on the counter and stand. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mike, but I think we’d be better off as friends. Don’t you agree?”

Even with the answer right there in the question, still he looks flummoxed.

“I…” 

“Or acquaintances,” you add, pulling on your pea coat. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you prefer.”

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you wave at the bartender and start to leave. You only make it several steps before Mike mutters something beneath his breath – loud enough that you hear.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “This is why you don’t date women like her, Mike.”

You come to a stop. Really, you should keep going. Common sense – and Namjoon’s HOA – depend on you being the bigger person and walking out. But your therapist has said you need to work on communicating, even when the message is something the other person won’t like.

Turning around, you tap Mike on the shoulder.

He glances upward, surprised – and then reddens, realizing you heard.

“Yep, I heard,” you say shortly, retracting your hand. “Was your muttering supposed to be secret?”

Mike opens, then closes his mouth, like a fish.

“What did you mean, ‘women like me?’” you demand, folding your arms. “Ones with self-respect? Or hobbies? Women who know more about a subject than you do?”

Behind the counter, the bartender snort-laughs, rising in your esteem despite the whole TV channel thing. 

Mike stares at you, stunned. He seems to grow a pair in that moment though, straightening to face you on his stool. “Women with sticks up their asses,” he blurt.

Stifling an eye roll, you lean closer. “Listen, Mike,” you say, placing one hand on the counter. “If you think you can hurt my feelings – think again. Someone broke my heart three months ago, so nothing you say now will remotely compare. Do you really want to know why women like me won’t date you?”

The furrow between his brows deepens, and you take this as a sign to continue. Leaning even closer, you lower your voice.

“It’s because you’re insecure,” you say softly. “Giving someone a compliment and putting yourself down in the same sentence isn’t nice, it’s awkward. Not to mention, you’re sexist,” you add, watching him stiffen. “Telling me – a two-time Comic Con trivia champion – that I wouldn’t know Marvel is wild. Oh, and you’re a snob. Tabletop games are awesome, and cosplay is fun. Have a good night – I paid for your drink.”

With that, you turn around and march out the door to a smattering of applause from your new favorite bartender. 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#1: The Hand (1.01)

The level of excitement, anxiety, joy, and anticipation I felt just before pressing play on the TOWL premiere was so high. My Richonne was finally coming back. 🥹 And man did they just snatch my heart for an entire hour with their return. I already knew seeing them again would be euphoric, but it was even more than I could have guessed. And the TOWL premiere dives right in with a very emotional, wild, and impactful first few minutes...

When deciding on a deadline for having these RIR: Towl Edition posts ready, I figured today, July 22, would be a great kickoff day since it's the anniversary of when The Ones Who Live was first announced at SDCC. 👌🏽😊

I remember where I was the day I first saw the TOWL announcement in 2022. I was in the middle of moving to a new place and saw an article pop up on my phone with a picture of Andy and Danai hand in hand at Comic-Con. I was just happy to see them.

And then I looked down at the article’s headline and saw they were there to announce that there would be a Rick and Michonne miniseries. 🤩 I was already overjoyed by that, but then, my joy just skyrocketed even more when I saw that they were coming back specifically for a miniseries focused on Rick and Michonne’s “epic love story” with Andy, Danai, and Scott as co-creators and executive producers. 😍

I knew we were about to have an absolute feast with this show our captains cooked up - and feast we most certainly did. This 6 episode miniseries is a six-course meal. 🍽

And I think TOWL is excellent on its own and has a lot of widespread appeal but when I’ve seen people say The Ones Who Live felt like it was particularly for the Richonne fans, there’s also a very clear explanation for that: the show was made by three Richonne fans. Scott, Andy, and Danai…they’re us. 😋

And I am so grateful to them for the beautiful gift that is The Ones Who Live. 😌

So this first post is a bit longer because I gotta come out the gate extra and even offer up some thoughts on the TWD clips that they included just before the premiere starts. I really liked how it sets up TOWL and highlights the power of Richonne’s relationship. 

They start by showing the iconic pilot shot of Rick on his horse riding along the barren side of a freeway as we hear his voice say, “We tell ourselves we are the walking dead.”

And then they include the iconic shot of Michonne’s TWD entrance from season 2.

They then show a clip from season 6, just a few episodes before Richonne would be canon. In the clip, Michonne is on the patio with Rick (and his elevator eyes) as she helps him see, “We’re in here together.”

I love this because in reminding Rick that they’re alive and breathing right here and now and have the room to make ASZ home it shows how Michonne was the one who helped change Rick’s motto from “We’re the walking dead” to “We’re the ones who live.” It’s one of the many ways she changed his life. 😌

They show some Say Yes moments, and you know I love that Richonne episode down. Seeing them use clips from the beloved 7.12, I remember just marveling over how years ago we were so excited just to get a single episode focused on Richonne and now we were gearing up to watch a whole miniseries dedicated to them. 🥰 Never getting over that blessing.

Rick says, “We’re gonna lose people, maybe even each other” as the clip ushers in its first gut punch of the hour by showing Rick and Michonne at their son Carl’s side after he reveals he’s been bit. 🥺

They also show Rick telling Michonne “You can lose me” in the Say Yes van and her saying “No.” We’ll talk about it more in a later post, but just as many of us suspected - Richonne cannot in fact lose each other and live on the same. While losing each other is and was physically possible, in every other way losing each other made them lose the most crucial parts of themselves.

Then they show Rick in his final TWD ep, preparing to blow up the bridge as his voiceover tells Michonne “If it’s me who doesn’t make it, you’re gonna have to lead the others forward because you’re the one who can.”

We see Michonne scream his name as Rick blows up the bridge and then they show our sweet older Judith as Rick says “Making a future for Judith, it’ll be worth it.” And I always love that 9.05 shot of Judith because of how it incorporates Rick, Carl, and Michonne with the holster, hat, and sword on her back. She along with RJ is an embodiment of their legacy and the future Richonne believed in.

Then they show Michonne slaying a walker as she says “We can make it. I’m not giving up.” And it just all really hammers home the resilience of Richonne and their love and partnership. They’ve been through so much, built so much, and lost so much, but they still stand because of each other and the family they created. 

After they give us some CRM insight with clips of Jadis (😒), they show scenes of Michonne and Judith’s last conversation where they both decide Michonne will go and look for The Brave Man. I’m glad they included that because some viewers really tend to forget that Judith urged her mom to go look for her dad and Michonne left not as an act of abandonment, but as the ultimate act of love for her family.

The TWD clips ends with Michonne saying “Okay baby girl I’m gonna try” and Judith saying “Go get him.” I love that even with everyone else thinking they were crazy, Michonne and Judith never stopped believing Rick was out there. (And RJ was believing too. 🥹 But I'm getting way ahead of myself lol)

And then --- the show we’ve all been waiting for begins and the TOWL premiere has a devastatingly poignant teaser. 🥺

I like how The Ones Who Live's opener connects to the last of the TWD clips because Michonne tells her baby girl she’s gonna try and then we hear Rick’s voice start the show by saying, “I tried. Please know I tried.”

It moves me how much Rick and Michonne have been trying for each other while apart. And it’s crushing to hear Rick say 'tried' in the past tense as he now debates no longer trying anymore since he's learned he can’t be with his family again or else risk putting them in harm's way.

After years of waiting to finally see what Rick has been up to all this time, they immediately let us know it has been an excruciatingly painful existence for him without his family. 😢

gif cred: @perryabbott

I like how the shot opens with Rick facing away from the camera as he stares out the window at a cold industrial view. Rick facing away from us almost gives this sense that we know him but we also don’t fully know him anymore. He’s been through a lot we haven’t seen.

The vintage TV delivers news of a massive attack in the background and similar to the destruction on the television, Rick also feels destroyed by the CRM and at his lowest here. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Then I love how before we even see Rick's face, we see him holding one of his phone sketches of Michonne. This show did a great job of immediately setting up the way Richonne’s love would be at the center of every scene in this story.

This shot of Michonne on the phone let you know instantly that the love between Richonne is still so alive and important to Rick and the miniseries. It’s also painful because it’s like Rick is finally accepting that those little drawings really could be the last he ever gets to “see” her after fighting so hard to believe he would see her again for real one day. 

And it’s very symbolic to have him look at Michonne on the phone and then see his own reflection in it. They’re one. It’s also significant that the first we see of Rick’s face is through a reflection. Again he’s him, but he’s not fully him rn. Just a reflection. And the part of him he misses most is his other half - Michonne. 

gif cred: @richonne4life

One of the tragic aspects of these two soulmates being separated for so long is that Rick and Michonne were not the type of couple who needed absence to make the heart grow fonder. Like they didn’t need to lose each other to realize how special their love was. When they were together they were fully aware of the gift their relationship was in their lives and they treasured their love deeply and out loud.

So being apart has only heightened what Rick and Michonne already knew full well which is that they are the love of each other's lives. They’re everything to each other. They knew it back then. And they know it still now, even after being away from each other longer than they’ve been together. 

It’s such a big deal for Rick to look at this phone in this moment as he contemplates ending it. I noticed that anytime Rick thinks he’s about to die, he thinks of Michonne. It's as though he’s eager for his last moment of life and his last thought to be of her so that he can end on some semblance of a positive note.

When he’s on the bridge in TWD 9.05, Michonne is his last hallucination. When he later chops off his hand and fades out of consciousness he dreams of her. And here when he contemplates dying by his own hand, he looks at this image of her just before. It makes me think of that TikTok that went viral about a man saying his last breath will be his wife’s name. That is definitely Rick’s mindset and I love that Richonne’s love runs that deep. 

Rick looks out with tears in his eyes - just sadness personified - and then he stares at the shard of glass in his hand, contemplative, before putting the glass to his neck. The acting Andy does in this moment is incredibly powerful and painful. I know award shows disappointingly tend to completely sleep on the performances from the TWD cast but truly to me he secured every award nomination just within his first few seconds of being on screen.

There’s something so viscerally vulnerable about this moment as Rick stares at the glass really wondering if after everything he’s been through and overcome, it’s really come to this - meeting his demise by his own hand with a little piece of glass.

Plus with how resilient Rick is, it’s like we see this massive internal fight to go against everything in him that’s a survivor and actively choose to stop surviving once and for all.

My heart just instantly broke from this teaser because while yes we know Rick won’t go through with it, to know that he was even in the headspace of this makes me hurt for him deeply. To think he was ready to potentially just go out, alone, depressed, never seeing his family again and them never knowing he was out there, feeling like a failure. It’s extremely dark.

gif cred: @vidco

Throughout his time on TWD, Rick’s journey has been as much a mental battle as it has been an external battle and as we saw in the TWD pilot, Rick is extremely perseverant but without his family, he is not opposed to just ending it.

And now, he's tried so hard for so many years to get back to Michonne and Judith, he stayed alive off the memory of family and the hope of being with family again - But once he realized it was no longer an option unless he risked putting the ones he loves in immense danger, that was it for him. In this moment he no longer sees the point in living if he has to live without his wife and daughter. 🥺

I found it powerfully poignant to have a show called The Ones Who Live begin by having Rick about to take his life. It shows that for Rick, there’s an asterisk on that motto because he feels he’s only 'the one who lives' if he gets to live with Michonne. It’s either ‘the ones who live together’ or nothing at all for Rick. 

So he nearly goes through with this attempt. Even draws some blood on his neck...but then he stops. Thank goodness. 🙏🏽 He sucks his teeth and sighs as he stares at the shard of glass looking defeated but also resolved that he can’t go through with it. Not like this.

Through this teaser, we instantly get his state of mind. He can’t end it all but he’s been in so much pain that it feels like the only way through is to die. It’s utterly tragic. 🥺

And I truly feel like part of why Rick couldn’t go through with it is because he and Michonne genuinely are one. So his life is not just his to take.

So long as Michonne is still out there and her heart is still beating then his heart still has to beat too, even if he has to die in other ways to somehow go on without her. We’ll also learn more about why he doesn’t go through with it in his heartbreakingly romantic last letter to Michonne, but we’ll get there. 👌🏽

So then we see the back of Rick again as he ends the night accepting his dreary fate to live but truly as the walking dead from now on. And I really like how the show explores the dark and damaging side of having to tell yourself you’re the walking dead. As well as the dark side of being 'the one who lives' even when everything in you wants to quit living because now you have to live without those you love.

When Rick gave the speech about his grandpa and them being the Walking Dead in TWD 5.10, Daryl responded saying, “We ain’t them.” Rick agreed with that because so long as you have family you aren’t the Walking Dead.

But that’s the thing - Rick hasn’t had his family for years and so he really did have to become the Walking Dead. But as he’ll say at the end of the series (jumping way ahead again, I know lol) he thought he was alone, but he wasn’t. His kids and wife especially were still believing in him and still loving him out there.

I like to think that just like Michonne could feel Rick out there with all the love he was emitting from afar toward her, Rick too could feel all the love she was emitting to him and it kept him here a bit longer. And thank goodness for that because my beloved Rick Grimes' story deserves a bright positive ending, not one this dark and depressing, after everything he's been through. 

As the teaser ends and Rick stares into the CRM void, I like the score. The music almost feels like a menacing weighed-down heartbeat which is fitting.

And then there's the beautiful title sequence, which I adore the music and every Richonne image during the theme song. I like how it starts with Rick and Michonne in each other's arms from season 8, letting you know that while the teaser was very dark, there is light coming and that light is called Richonne.

(Also, I really wanted Rick to see Michonne in her corset armor during the show but since he didn’t, I’m glad there’s at least a gorgeous image of the two of them together during the theme song that includes her in the armor.)

I also liked the way the first ep just shows Rick under the title since it’s a Rick-centric episode and then the second episode has just Michonne under the title for the Michonne-centric episode. All and all, this whole opener was a very impactful way to kick off the show and set the tone for what Rick has been through and become in the years he's been away.

All the chatter from certain parts of the audience who thought Rick would move on and even have a new family in the Civic Republic was immediately dispelled because those speculations were always a ridiculous misunderstanding of the character. He found his everything in Michonne so of course he’s still as in love with her now as he was the day we last saw them together in season 9. Just like Michonne still stayed in love with him.

I love that they both refused to move on from each other and operated as in love as ever. And because they held onto that love, even when it felt like all was lost, that love was able to return to them. 👌🏽

So next, we get into some action as we’re taken to 5 years after the bridge. We see Rick and his iconic walk as he stands in the forest with other consignees. And it was such a joy to see him back on screen and know we were finally going to get the continuation of his story. 🙌🏽

gif cred: @vidco

Rick holds a CRM hatchet, which also feels symbolic because it’s similar to one of his signature TWD weapons, but it’s marked by the CRM showing they’ve in many ways attempted to claim him. 

Rick is also the only consignee with a leash, clearly illustrating that he’s a lil different than the rest. He’s the one who doesn’t want to be here and will try to escape if given the chance and the CRM knows this about him. Along with attempting to claim him, this leash makes it feel like the CRM is also attempting to tame him like he's a defiant animal.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As Rick looks around and takes a breath you can tell he’s fully made up his mind about what he’s about to do with his most extreme escape attempt yet.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick runs to take out walkers and again seeing him back in action is such a sight for sore eyes. He’s still got it. 👌🏽 However, because he looks all healthy and strong I think some can miss that Rick is still very much in mental disarray from battling the psychological torment of being taken and trapped all these years. Like he might look normal and fine (and I do mean that in all the ways 😇) but he's not mentally healthy right now.

(Side note: I really love the look of this whole night scene with the deep blues and fiery reds. The budget was doing its thing in TOWL. 👏🏽🔥)

gif cred: @nerd4music

So Rick runs far enough that the leash pulls him to the ground. A soldier yells at him and he says “Sorry. Trying to find my axe.” Look at our cute little liar. 😋

And then the show gets right into the wildness by having Rick put a belt around his arm and proceed to chop off his own hand. It’s insane😳.

It's also very reminiscent of when Negan nearly made Rick chop off Carl’s arm in the season 7 premiere. Chopping his own hand off in these woods was more doable for Rick than had he had to chop off Carl’s arm because it’s his family he cares about far more than himself.

As Rick prepares to do the chop he repeats “This is how” as in this is how he gets home. It hurts my heart that he feels this is the only way.🥺

But it's really moving to see that he’s willing to do something this intense to get back to his love. Also, this is 5 years after the bridge, so this means that even a half a decade later Rick was still as determined as ever to break free and get back to Michonne.

The people I watch with and I had a whole discussion on whether chopping the hand the way he did was daftly executed by the show considering it’s such an extreme thing to do in this situation where Rick was never going to successfully get away bleeding out like that with CRM soldiers so close by.

But my argument was that the 'ill-thought-out' element of this escape plan is part of the point.

For 5 years atp, Rick has been isolated from all love and warmth and is deteriorating mentally day by day. In this extremely damaged state, he’s not thinking straight, and cutting off his hand is a last-ditch effort that shows he will try absolutely anything, sound or unsound, to get back to Michonne and Judith.

Yes, he possibly could have just cut off the thumb or hacked at the leash but the extreme approach Rick took also conveys that he’s not all there right now and he’s as desperate as he’s ever been to finally break free and go home. It also informs us that his more sane escape attempts haven't worked and so now Rick Grimes is willing to try the insane stuff to get back to his family.

Think about the mindset he has to be in to go against natural human instinct and chop off his own hand. It’s crazy, but it immediately lets us know that even the most impractical solutions are now what it’s come to for him. 

gif cred: @nat111love

So basically, if it seems super reckless for him to do it this way, that’s the intention imo. He’s so worn down and off mentally from his debilitating circumstances that he’ll do anything whether it’s the wise thing or not, he doesn’t care anymore. Anything to get back to her.

The traditional saying is 'asking for her hand in marriage,' but here we see Rick, the ultimate lover boy, be like 'What if I literally give my hand for my marriage.' If there’s one thing TOWL made perfectly clear it’s that Rick and Michonne have crazy love. 💯

And while yes his escape plan could have been more thought through, my baby Rick did show some smart thinking by putting the ax in the fire to make the chop easier so you gotta give him that. 😌👌🏽

After he cuts off his hand this horror music plays as Rick proceeds to make a run for it. He has to lean behind a tree dazed as he bleeds profusely.

It’s crazy because the last time we saw Rick in a full episode of TWD he was bleeding out and now here he is intensely injured again and going through the wringer. I was so eager for whenever this man would finally get some much-deserved rest. 

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Rick then has the strength to take out a walker and cauterize the wound by plunging his arm into the fire inside it. This whole thing was an effective way to show early that one; Rick is built different and two; this man will endure literally anything to get home. And home is very much not a place but his wife and daughter.

So then he tries to make a run for it as CRM soldiers near closer and I honestly think with this being his fourth escape attempt this was really a “go home or die trying" attempt. Like I think Rick knew that dying tonight was a very real possibility.

The soldiers knock Rick down and he lays on the ground defeated and drained as he stares at the burning corpse of a walker that’s certainly meant to reflect how he feels as well. Almost like the burning desire to go home has officially consumed him and taken him out.

Feeling like a corpse himself, Rick fades out of consciousness as soldiers approach. And then we get to enter Rick’s lovely mind and see where he goes when at his wit's end.

And y’all, these first two TOWL scenes to analyze were pretty hefty, dark, and depressing, so it’s time we get to something lighter and happier to dive into. And what’s better and brighter than Rick’s beautiful dream world with his beautiful dream girl? 😌👌🏽🌟

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 6

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest and @pedgito

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,DUB/NON-CON, Auctioning people, Dom and Sub dynamics, Drinking, food, kissing, possessiveness, flirting, praise, Orgasums, manipulation, burns, Bondage (with a belt), strip tease, thigh riding, riding, punishments, hair pulling, Orgasum denial, Degrading, breeding kink?maybe a lil, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it kids, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: Faith drops a ball and you try and take some control over Joel

WC: 5.6k

A/n: Hehe...switch Joel? also this took a sec because i originally wrote it completely different but big big shout out too @underthechemtrails who read one of the first editions she was an amazing help when it came to well everything luv ya pookie

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

“Faith,” you giggled as she told you about the prank she pulled on Tommy, the warmth of her laughter making your heart feel lighter. You had Faith on speakerphone, the sounds of sizzling food and clinking utensils filling your small kitchen as you prepared dinner, waiting for Joel to come home.

“He was so mad, but it was worth it,” Faith chuckled. “What about you? How have you been holding up?”

You sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and relief in your voice. “I’ve been okay. Classes are going well, and I’m almost finished with my most recent painting. It’s been a good distraction.”

“That’s great to hear,” Faith replied, her tone softening with genuine care. “And Joel? How are things with him?”

You hesitated, your fingers pausing over the chopping board. “It’s been... complicated. We had this intense encounter a few days ago, and it’s been hard to shake off. It felt more like a punishment than anything else.”

You hesitated, your fingers pausing over the chopping board as you chopped vegetables for the spaghetti sauce. “It’s been... complicated. We had this intense encounter a few days ago, and it’s been hard to shake off. It felt more like a punishment than anything else.”

Faith laughed softly, thinking it was a joke. “A punishment? Sounds kinky. What did he do?”

You took a deep breath, feeling a knot in your stomach. “I said no to something, and he didn’t listen. He forced himself on me and made me... well, it was a blowjob. It felt like he was punishing me for saying no.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. When Faith spoke again, her voice was much more serious. “Wait, what? He forced you? That’s not okay. That’s not a punishment, that’s... that’s assault.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of her words hitting you. “I didn’t think of it that way. I just felt... helpless.”

Faith’s tone softened, filled with concern. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was like that. I thought it was a consensual thing. Are you okay?”

You stopped cooking, setting the knife down as you tried to keep your composure. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to make sense of it. I didn’t want to believe it was that bad.”

Faith’s voice was gentle but firm. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You deserve to feel safe.”

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. “Faith, can I ask you something?”

"Of course," Faith replied, her tone encouraging. "What’s on your mind?"

"Do you and Tommy have a safe word?" you asked, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Faith paused for a moment before answering. "Yes, we do. Safe words are essential in any kind of BDSM or kink relationship. Do you and Joel have one?"

"No," you admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I read about them in an article when I was trying to figure out something new to try with Joel. The article mentioned safe words when it talked about bondage, but I didn’t really understand what it meant."

Faith’s laughter was warm and reassuring. "That’s okay. A safe word is a word or phrase that you and your partner agree on, which means ‘stop’ immediately. It’s used to communicate when something is too much or if you’re uncomfortable. It’s different from just saying ‘no’ because sometimes in roleplay, saying ‘no’ can be part of the game. The safe word is a clear signal that the scene needs to stop right away."

"Oh," you said, feeling a bit more enlightened. "So it’s like a safety net?"

"Exactly," Faith confirmed. "It’s there to ensure that both partners feel safe and respected. It’s crucial in maintaining trust. If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, you use the safe word, and everything stops."

You nodded, even though Faith couldn’t see you, feeling a bit more at ease. "That makes sense. I guess I need to talk to Joel about that."

Faith’s voice took on a more serious tone. "Absolutely. And make sure you’re clear about what you’re comfortable with and what you want to explore. Speaking of which, is there something specific you want to try?"

You hesitated, feeling a bit nervous. "Well, actually, yes. I read about bondage, and I kind of want to try it, but I’d like to be the one in control. I want Joel to be the one tied up."

There was a brief pause before Faith responded, her voice laced with excitement. "Ooh, that sounds interesting! But I get why you’re nervous. You want to make sure he’s open to it and understands your boundaries."

"Exactly," you said, feeling a bit more relieved. "How do I bring it up without making it awkward or seeming like I’m trying to change things too much?"

Faith chuckled softly. "Well, first of all, it’s all about timing. Find a moment when you’re both relaxed and open to talking. Maybe after dinner, when you’re both in a good mood. Start by talking about your relationship and how much you value it, then ease into the topic of trying new things."

You nodded, making a mental note of her advice. "Okay, that sounds doable. And then what?"

"Be honest and direct," Faith advised. "Tell him you’ve been reading about different aspects of intimacy and that you’re curious about trying bondage. Explain that you’d like to experiment with being the one in control and see how he feels about it. Make sure he knows it’s about exploring together and that you value his comfort and boundaries too."

"That makes sense," you said, feeling a bit more confident. "I just hope he’s open to it."

Faith's voice took on a nostalgic tone. "You know, the one time I was with Joel, I actually tied him up. He was surprisingly okay with it. He was more of a guide, really, helping me feel comfortable while still letting me take control. It was... nice, in a way."

You blinked in surprise, the spoon in your hand pausing mid-stir. "He was tied up? And he was okay with that?"

"Yeah," Faith confirmed, her voice growing more somber. "He was open to it. But there’s something I need to tell you." She took a deep breath, her tone shifting from nostalgic to serious. "That night, Joel punished me too. It was consensual at first, but it got a bit intense. He didn’t listen to my safe word."

You felt a chill run down your spine, the spoon slipping from your fingers into the pot. "Faith, why didn’t you tell me about this before?"

Faith sighed heavily, the sound filled with regret. "Honestly? I didn’t want to worry you. You seemed so happy with him, and I hoped that maybe he was different with you. But hearing you talk about how he’s been... it brings back some memories."

You turned off the stove, giving Faith your full attention. "You should have told me. I need to know these things."

"I know," Faith admitted, her voice tinged with a sadness that was rarely there. "I should have. But I just... didn’t want to cloud your view of him if he was treating you well. Now that I know he’s been rough with you too, I’m worried."

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions. "It’s okay, Faith. I understand why you didn’t. But it’s important for me to know."

Faith took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "You’re right. And I’m sorry. It’s just... hard to talk about. But you need to know that if he hasn’t changed and he’s being... rapey, you need to call me. I’ll drop everything to come get you."

You felt a knot of fear and gratitude in your chest. "Okay. I promise I will."

"Good," Faith said, her voice softening slightly. "Now, about this bondage thing... Start with the safe word. And be honest about wanting to try bondage but wanting him to be the one tied up. He might surprise you, but if he pushes back in a way that makes you uncomfortable, don’t ignore it."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of determination and fear. "Okay. I’ll talk to him. And if things go south, I’ll call you."

"Promise me you will," Faith urged. "No matter what."

"I promise," you said, feeling a sense of relief knowing she was there for you.

"Good," Faith said warmly. "And remember, you deserve to feel safe and respected. Don’t let anyone take that away from you."

"Thanks, Faith," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I appreciate you being here for me."

"Always," Faith replied with a comforting tone. "Now go finish dinner and have that talk. You’ve got this."

You hung up the phone, Faith's words echoing in your mind. Her confession had left you feeling a mixture of relief and unease. As you turned back to the stove, you tried to focus on finishing dinner, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation.

Suddenly, the front door creaked open. You jumped, the unexpected noise startling you. Joel was home early. His heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you could smell the earthy scent of sweat and construction dust before you saw him.

"Hey," Joel called out as he stepped into the kitchen. His voice was gruff but filled with a hint of warmth.

Startled, you accidentally knocked the spoon against the pot, causing hot sauce to splash onto your hand. You yelped in pain, instinctively pulling your hand away and clutching it to your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in concern as he quickly closed the distance between you. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"It’s nothing," you managed through gritted teeth, trying to downplay the pain. "I just burned myself."

Without another word, Joel gently took your hand, examining the burn with a furrowed brow. He was still dirty from work, the scent of dirt and sweat mingling with the kitchen aromas. Despite his rough appearance, his touch was tender as he guided you to the sink.

"Let’s get this under some cold water," he said softly, turning on the tap and holding your hand under the stream. The cool water provided instant relief, but your heart was still racing from the shock of his sudden arrival and the sting of the burn.

"Thanks," you murmured, glancing up at him. His face was etched with concern, and for a moment, you saw a different side of him—a side that cared deeply about your well-being.

Joel nodded, his expression softening. "You need to be more careful." His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the usual roughness you were accustomed to.

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. I just got distracted."

Joel glanced at the stove, then back at you. "I can finish dinner if you want to take a break."

"No, it’s okay," you replied, pulling your hand back once the pain had subsided. "I’ll finish it."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Just be careful."

You returned to the stove, but Joel didn’t leave your side. His presence was both comforting and intimidating, and you found yourself struggling to focus. You stirred the pot absentmindedly, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Faith and the sudden shift in your evening.

"Joel," you began hesitantly, feeling the weight of the upcoming conversation. "There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about."

He looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage you needed. "I’ve been reading about BDSM dynamics, and I realized we don’t have a safe word. I think it’s something we need to establish to ensure we both feel safe and respected."

Joel’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and defensiveness. “A safe word? Why do we need that? I’ve never done anything to make you uncomfortable. Everything I do is to make you feel good.”

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “But sometimes it feels too intense, like the other night. I want to make sure we have a way to stop if it’s too much.”

He crossed his arms, his posture becoming more rigid. “Why are you even researching this stuff? You can come to me with any concerns. You don’t need to look things up online.”

“I just wanted to understand better,” you explained, trying to keep your voice steady. “I thought it would help us communicate more clearly.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his tone accusatory. “Is this Faith’s idea? She’s the one with the problem, not us. I don’t need her planting doubts in your head.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “It’s not just about Faith. It’s about making sure we both feel safe and respected.”

Joel shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Of course, it’s Faith. She’s never liked me. Remember how she repacked your suitcase, telling you what to bring and what not to? She’s always trying to control you. Why do you listen to her?”

You felt a pang of frustration and sadness. “Joel, Faith is just concerned about me. She wants me to be safe and happy.”

“She wants you to doubt me,” he snapped, his voice rising. “She’s always been trying to drive a wedge between us. Can’t you see that? She’s manipulating you.”

You turned back to the stove, trying to focus on the spaghetti rather than his words. “Joel, this isn’t about Faith. This is about us and making sure our relationship is healthy.”

“She doesn’t respect me,” he continued, ignoring your attempt to steer the conversation. “She’s always undermining me, filling your head with nonsense. Why can’t you see that she’s the problem?”

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Joel, I’m not going to cut Faith out of my life. She’s my friend, and she cares about me. But this conversation is about us establishing boundaries and making sure we both feel safe.”

Joel’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “Boundaries? We never needed boundaries before she started meddling.”

You sighed, trying to keep your composure as you placed the plates of spaghetti on the table. “This isn’t about Faith meddling. It’s about us communicating better. Can we please just sit down and talk about this calmly?”

Joel pushed his chair back, standing up abruptly. “No,” he said flatly. “Put my dinner in the microwave. I need to get cleaned up.”

You blinked in surprise, feeling a rush of anxiety. “Joel, we need to talk about this.”

He ignored you, heading for the kitchen door. “You know, I paid for your college tuition with that $300,000. It was your money, and I assumed you’d use it for that anyway. And I had my accountant merge our bank accounts. It makes things easier for both of us.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a wave of fear and confusion washing over you. “What? Joel, you can’t just merge our accounts without talking to me first!”

He turned back, his expression cold. “Why are you getting so defensive? I’m just trying to take care of you.”

The words hit hard, knocking the wind out of you. You struggled to steady your voice, but it wavered. "Joel, that's a major decision. You should have discussed it with me. I feel like you're making all the decisions without considering me."

He scoffed and shook his head dismissively before walking away from the kitchen doorway. You felt your head spinning as panic surged through you. How could he make such decisions without even consulting you? It wasn't just about merging bank accounts; it was about him asserting his will without considering your feelings. 

Just as you were setting the last plate on the table, Joel returned to the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower, which made him look unusually handsome with droplets of water catching the light. "Is my dinner ready?" His tone was demanding, carrying an air of authority that unsettled you further.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes, I put it in the microwave for you.”

Joel walked over to the microwave, opening it and taking out his plate. The scent of the spaghetti filled the room as he set his plate down. He gave you a brief, appreciative look. “Dinner smells great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “You always know how to make the perfect sauce.”

You managed a small smile, though it felt forced. “Thanks, Joel. I’m glad you like it.”

He took a few bites, nodding appreciatively. "Where did you hear about this ‘safe word’ stuff anyway?"

You swallowed hard, choosing your words carefully. "I’ve been doing some research on BDSM. I was specifically looking into bondage and came across the concept of safe words. It seems important, especially for trust and communication."

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. "Researching, huh? And what made you want to look into that?"

You glanced down at your plate, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. "I wanted to explore more. I felt ready to try new things, and I thought it would be good for us to have clear boundaries. It’s about making sure we both feel comfortable and respected."

Joel leaned back in his chair, studying you intently. "And you think we need this because of what happened the other night?"

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. "Yes. I want to feel safe, and I want you to feel safe too. It’s about mutual respect and trust."

He sighed, setting his fork down and leaning forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. "I’ve never done anything to make you uncomfortable on purpose. Everything I’ve done was to make you feel good."

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. "I know, Joel. But sometimes, things can go too far without meaning to. A safe word would give us both a way to stop if it ever gets to be too much."

Joel's expression softened as he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. "I get what you’re saying, but you should have come to me with this first. We don’t need outside influences like Faith planting doubts."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. "This isn’t about Faith. This is about us. I need to know that if I say no or if something is too much for me, you’ll respect that."

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his touch firm but not unkind. "You’ll want for nothing, you know that, right? I’m just trying to take care of us, make things easier."

You looked down at his hand, then back up at him, feeling a knot of unease in your stomach. "I appreciate everything you do, Joel. But we need to make decisions together. I need to feel like we’re equals."

Suddenly, Joel’s mood shifted, his voice laced with a darker edge. “You know, you’re just like Faith. Think you’re ready for all this sex stuff, then go crying when you can’t take it.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, tears welling up in your eyes. “Joel, that’s not fair.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Isn’t it? You want to explore, but then you can’t handle it when things get real. Maybe you should think about that before trying to bring in all these new rules.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “It’s not about handling it, Joel. It’s about feeling safe and respected. I thought you understood that.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward, reaching out to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart, you know I care about you more than anything. I’m just trying to make things perfect for us. You don’t have to worry about anything, just trust me.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into his hand despite the turmoil in your mind. “I do trust you, Joel, but I need to feel like my voice matters too.”

He smiled, a seductive, almost hypnotic smile. “Of course your voice matters. It’s just that sometimes, I know what’s best for us. You don’t need to be burdened with all the details. You should be focusing on your art, your classes, the things that make you happy.”

“But merging our accounts without asking?” you pressed, trying to hold onto your resolve. “That’s a big decision, Joel.”

He sighed, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. “I did it because I love you and I want to take care of you. You’ll want for nothing, I promise. Can’t you see that?”

You bit your lip, feeling the conflict inside you. His words were soothing, almost hypnotic, making you question your own doubts. “I just... I need to feel like we’re partners in this, Joel. Like I have a say.”

Joel’s hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gently massaging. “You do have a say. I’m listening to you right now, aren’t I? But trust me when I say, some things are better left to me. I want to protect you, to make things easier for you.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. Joel's presence was overwhelming, yet comforting. "Okay," you whispered.

Joel pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I just want what's best for us. We don’t need outside influences messing with what we have. Like Faith. She’s always been a bad influence.”

You frowned, the mention of Faith bringing back your earlier doubts. “Faith just wants to make sure I’m okay, Joel. She’s my friend.”

He sighed, his fingers still gently massaging your neck. “I get that, but she doesn’t understand us. She’s always filling your head with doubts, making you question everything. We don’t need that kind of negativity.”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “She’s not trying to be negative. She just wants me to feel safe and respected.”

Joel's grip tightened slightly, his tone becoming more insistent. “You are safe and respected with me. You know that. Faith doesn’t see the full picture. She doesn’t understand what we have.”

You looked down, feeling conflicted. “I know she can be overprotective, but she’s just looking out for me.”

He cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his gaze. “And so am I. But unlike Faith, I’m here with you every day. I know you better than anyone. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded slowly, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think clearly. “Yes, I trust you, Joel.”

He smiled, his fingers brushing your hair back. “Good. That’s all I need to hear. Just trust me, and I promise everything will be alright.”

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering doubt. “I do trust you. I just... I don’t want to lose my friends, Joel.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “You won’t lose your friends, sweetheart. But you need to make sure they’re not causing more harm than good. Sometimes, people don’t understand what’s best for us.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and Joel gently wiped it away. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m here for you. Always.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Joel.”

Joel led you into the living room, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He settled onto the couch, pulling you down onto his lap with ease. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and you nestled into him, seeking comfort in his closeness. The unease still lingered, but you tried to focus on the moment.

“That’s better,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. His hands began to move, gently caressing your back in slow, soothing strokes. The tension in your muscles started to ease as he continued to whisper reassurances.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said softly, his lips brushing your temple. “You don’t need to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

His touch was comforting, and you felt yourself beginning to relax, your worries momentarily forgotten. Joel’s hands wandered lower, tracing delicate patterns along your spine, then slipping under the hem of your shirt. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you shivered slightly at the sensation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice laced with a seductive edge. “I want to make you feel good. Let me take care of you.”

You felt a surge of heat at his words, your heart beating faster. His hands roamed further, exploring the curve of your waist, then sliding up to cup your breast through your shirt. You gasped softly, the sensation both arousing and comforting.

“Joel...” you began, but he silenced you with a gentle kiss, his lips soft yet insistent against yours.

“Shh,” he murmured against your lips. “Just let go. Let me take care of everything.”

You melted into the kiss, your body responding to his touch despite the lingering doubts in your mind. His hands continued their journey, slipping beneath your shirt and bra, caressing your bare skin. The intimacy of his touch made your pulse race, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, seeking more of the warmth and security he offered.

“You see?” Joel whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. “You don’t need anyone else. I can give you everything you need.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, both arousing and unsettling. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he had your best interests at heart. His hands moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, and you gasped at the intimate touch.

“Joel,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “This feels...”

“Good,” he finished for you, his fingers teasing you with expert precision. “It’s supposed to feel good. Just let yourself enjoy it.”

Joel's touch grew bolder, his fingers moving with deliberate intent. He was taking his time, savoring each moment, and the intensity of his actions left you breathless. His lips found your ear again, his voice a seductive whisper.

"Take off your clothes," he murmured, his hands still exploring your body. "I want to see you."

You hesitated, the command clashing with the turmoil inside you. "Joel, wait," you said softly, trying to steady your voice. "I... I want to try something."

He paused, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "What do you want to try?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "Your belt," you said, reaching for it. "I want to use it."

Joel’s eyes darkened with anticipation, and a smug smile played on his lips. "You want me to tie you up, huh?" he assumed, clearly enjoying the idea.

You shook your head, your heart pounding. "No, Joel. I want to tie you up."

As you reached for his belt, Joel's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice tinged with wariness.

You met his gaze, your hands trembling slightly. "I want to tie you up, Joel. Please, trust me."

His eyes flickered with hesitation, and he pulled back a little. "I don't know about this," he muttered, a frown creasing his forehead. "This wasn't part of the plan."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. "Joel, this is about trust. You always tell me to trust you. Now, I'm asking you to trust me. Just this once."

Joel's jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away. His eyes searched yours for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice low. "But just this once."

You let out a sigh of relief, your fingers resuming their task of unbuckling his belt. The leather felt cool and solid in your hands as you pulled it free, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Joel's hands were still now, resting on his thighs as he watched you intently.

With the belt in hand, you looped it around his wrists, pulling it tight enough to hold him but not so tight as to cause discomfort. He tested the restraint, his muscles tensing, but didn't try to break free.

"Comfortable?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel smirked, though his eyes held a hint of challenge. "I suppose," he replied, his tone lighter but still tinged with uncertainty.

You positioned yourself on his lap, straddling him, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His bound hands rested on your hips, and you could feel the tension in his grip. Your hands moved to brush his damp hair back from his forehead, your fingers lingering on his skin.

"I want you to trust me, Joel," you said softly, your heart racing. "Just like I trust you."

His eyes softened slightly, and he nodded, his voice a low murmur. "I do trust you. Now, what are you going to do next?"

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear. "I want to explore," you whispered, echoing his earlier words. "And I want you to see what it feels like to let go."

Joel's breath hitched, and you could sense the shift in his demeanor. He was intrigued, curious, and perhaps a little vulnerable. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it gave you a glimmer of hope that you could find a balance between your desires and his control.

As you began to explore, your hands tracing over his body, you felt a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. This was uncharted territory, but the thrill of it was undeniable. Joel's eyes never left yours, and you could see the challenge in his gaze.

"Show me," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "Show me what you've got."

Your face turned red as you stood up, looking at Joel tied up with his own belt. It was a sight to behold—his damp hair, the way the tent in his pants made them look incredibly tight. You smirked, taking off your top and moving closer to shove your breasts in his face. He tried to bite at your nipples through your bra, making you giggle, but you didn't take it off just yet. 

Instead, you moved to your pants, quickly stripping them off before giving him a seductive look. You dangled your panties in front of his face, giggling again at the hunger in his eyes. He started to claw at the fabric with his teeth. "No, no," you teased, coming to sit on his jean-clad thigh, your knee brushing against his raging hard-on. "Use your words, Mister Miller."

You teasingly put his hands around your neck, his eyes darkening as you started to ride his thigh slowly, giving in exactly where your clit wanted him most. To tease him further, you put the panties in your mouth, letting them dangle as you rode him methodically. "Untie me," Joel growled, grabbing your hair and pulling it back, making you moan and drop the panties.

You rode him a little faster, clinging to his shirt with your hands. "No," you moaned again, your orgasm getting closer. You could hear Joel rustling with the belt behind your head as you rode his thigh faster and faster. Just as you were edging toward your orgasm, you heard the sound of something heavy fall to the floor. 

You looked down and saw his belt on the floor. Joel smirked at you before throwing you into the couch cushions, your ass in the air and on full display for him. He unhooked your bra, caressing your skin and grabbing everything he could. He pushed his hard-on into your ass, making you grind into it once again. "I said untie me," Joel growled as he pulled down his pants and boxers. 

"Teasing me—who are you, baby?" he pulled you up to his chest as he slid his cock into you. The stretch, painful at first, quickly faded into pure pleasure. "You're just so cock drunk," he chuckled as he thrusted up into you. Your moans were the only response you could get out. 

"Teasing me with your panties, thinking I wouldn't bend you over and fuck you into oblivion," he pushed your head down into the cushions and started pounding into you, using his hands to stabilize your hips. The sounds were so erotic—your moans muffled, his skin slapping against yours, and the squelching sound of your pussy being stretched out. 

You moved your hand to rub your clit, your orgasm so close, and Joel could tell. "That's it, there's that pussy, making you feel so good, aren't I?" he continued to pound into you as you rubbed your clit. With a loud cry, your orgasm washed over you, making your hips instinctively move forward. Joel tightened his hold on your hips, his fingers sure to leave bruises. "Not so fast, pretty girl," his voice starting to break as he thrust slowly, fucking you through your orgasm and letting himself hit his.

He let out a high-pitched groan as he came inside you, his long, thick ropes of cum filling your insides. He pulled out and idly fell back onto the couch. You lay there for a moment, basking in the feeling of his warm cum all over your cunt. 

"Go get cleaned up, my cum's dripping on the couch," Joel chuckled as he playfully pushed your legs off the couch. You stood up and walked to the bathroom, still trembling from the intensity of what just happened.