#the instructor

[calsartisttrashbin]

May I offer a collab during these trying times (waiting for votes)?

Miss Kimiko just checking in! Totally for no reason! And definitely not because she can see the cameras! What exactly is going on anyway?

Feel free to add in something silly or serious on the other side!

Blank under the cut

[tf2occontest]

BLU Scout / Maxine Fox VS Miss Kimiko (the Instructor)

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

BLU Scout / Maxine Fox

@scorpiolight-madd

Image credit: @/scorpiolight-madd

The BLU Scout was at one point the youngest member of BLU, having joined as a teenage runaway. She’s a wannabe rockstar, often keeping their teammates up at night with his rock music, and even occasionally using her guitar as a weapon in battle. His biggest rival is the RED Team's Scout, not because he's on the opposite team and outclasses her, but mainly because he's from Boston, and that New York-Boston rivalry runs deep. (she/he/they pronouns)

Miss Kimiko (the Instructor)

@calsartisttrashbin

Image credit: @/calsartisttrashbin

Another secretive figure of TFI, Miss Kimiko acts as a middle man for the mysterious Administrator. From writing the contracts for the mercenaries, sorting out Saxon Hale's strange ideas with his assistant Bidwell, teaching Miss Pauling mercenary skills (because the Administrator definitely didn't teach Miss Pauling herself), running the mercenary tutorials, and many other menial tasks, this tired tattooed lady is certainly more storied than she says! A vote for her is a step closer to her much needed raise!

[trishaellainepb]

The Inspector from Defend the Train basically raised his "New Hires!!!"

He watched them go from Fresh Contractees to Dubious Task Takers!! 0w0

Gosh this is a fun journeyyy uweeee

[astralbondpro]

Oh shit! Vinegar Syndrome has The Instructor remastered! Unfortunately it's $42.

[calsartisttrashbin]

Give my girl a break she had an arranged marriage, she prob didn’t realize it could be romantic lmao

Anyways loved this too much to not draw her, but tbh didn’t think of it as romantic when drawing either haha

// Wanna go on a date with the Trapper? Here’s your chance!! This is open to anyone who wants to go on a dinner date with him. You’re free to change the text as well!! Do anything!! Draw anyone in!! Oc’s, yourself, other characters, go crazy!!! Original pic/comic panel under the cut.

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[offarworlds]

The Driving Instructor: IN COLOR

[onnie-giri]

best bros here to save the world (through volleyball <3)

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[sillyrabbit81]

Thank you ❤️

The Instructor

Summary: Agent August Walker is your instructor at CIA training. (Sorry I know thats a sucky summary!)

Pairing: August Walker x Female reader

Word Count: approx 2.5k

Warnings: Dubious Consent, unprotected P in V sex, masturbation

Authors Note: My first attempt at an August Walker fic. Also my first smutty one-shot. Please note the warnings. If I'm missing any let me know. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy it. Not Beta read, there will be errors!

Edit: There is now a part 2 (linked below) and maybe more to come in the future

Master List

Part 2

The Instructor

You knew training at The Farm would be hard, it had to be. The CIA didn’t take shrinking violets. Your international relations degree and army reserve training seemed almost useless when confronted with the level of work ahead of you. Nothing you had previously done prepared you for the rigorous routine of theory, practical application and physical testing you were put under. And none of the instructors worked you as hard as Agent August Walker.

You knew he had an issue with you on your first day. His arrogant smirk as he entered the room made you do a double take. You had not expected to see a man like him in this academic sphere, he was obviously a field agent and you had no idea what he could have done to end up at The Farm. Handsome, confident and arrogant, he wore a moustache that would make lesser men cringe, yet you couldn’t imagine his face without it.

You weren’t the only one who noticed his swagger. A lot of the women had visible blushes or squirmed in their seats, a few of the men did do. Agent Walker surveyed the group, staring down each of you, taking our measure, judging you. When his blue piercing eyes met yours, you dropped them immediately. You recognised the Dominant in his look and your submissive self acted on instinct. You cursed yourself, you knew you had given away too much in that brief exchange and you knew he would exploit it. That was his job.

Swallowing hard, you raised your eyes. He was still looking at you, his head tilted to the side, as if in deep thought. His tongue flicked between his lips, before his top lip lifted in what could have been a sneer.

You made a noise in your throat, the tiniest moan that no one could have heard, yet Agent Walker did. For a moment the tight, considered squint around his eyes fell away to a look of surprise before he quickly schooled his features. With a grunt he moved on, inspecting the next student and you exhaled with relief.

You were furious with yourself that you had let your instructor see that hidden side of you. The side you had only ever explored in the darkest reaches of your mind, the darkest parts where you wanted to be owned, controlled and possessed. You had known since you were a teen you wanted to be in the CIA, like your aunt had been and so led a life without stain to make it so. You knew what dirt they could dig up on a recruit, so you never read the stories, watched the videos or dated the men who could satisfy the urges in you. As far as you could tell, not a single soul knew about your proclivities. Until that day.

He didn’t look at you again that session, perhaps he was disgusted in you or perhaps you had made the whole exchange up in your head. But that night as you laid in bed and touched yourself the only thing you could think about was Agent Walker’s eyes and his voice in your ear, calling you his pet, his toy, his slut.

You imagined his voice, instructing you to follow his orders as he forced you to do the acts you secretly desired but feared so much. His imagined explicit words, brought you close to the edge, but your fingers curled deep within you weren’t enough. You pinched at your nipples, harder than you had ever before, your nails digging into the soft skin. You broke out in sweat as you reached the summit and you imagined it would be all worth it when Agent Walker would whisper a soft, “good girl” into your ear.

When it was over, you started to cry. You got out of bed to shower off the sweat and purify your thoughts. You were confused once the urge was sated, ashamed of what you had done. He was an instructor at the CIA, not some random guy from a bar. You had no right to think of him that way. And worse, now that you had, how could you face him again?

You resolved that you would never do it again. Tomorrow, he would know you weren’t what he thought you were, you were not a willing sub, you were an Agent in training, one day you would be his equal. Hell, you were smart enough and disciplined enough to be his boss one day. Even as you got into bed, you knew it was a lie. You had never fell so quickly under a man’s spell before, and you knew you would never be able to close your eyes without his demanding azure ones gazing back at you.

You feared seeing him the next day, but were surprised to find he paid next to no attention to you. He gave you the bare minimum of his time and did not make eye contact with you again. But sometimes, when he did have to get close, you noticed a strain in his voice unlike when he spoke to the others. When he said your name, there was always a slight hesitation before speaking. He must hate you, think you’re weak, but that didn’t stop you from treasuring every interaction, sealing them away in your memory to be brought out like old vinyl’s and played when you laid in bed at night.

You reached the end of your training and your cohort had planned a celebration in town the night before you left ‘The Farm’. Tomorrow, you would all be sent off to different sections of the agency, overseas or to more advanced training. You were rarely able to leave the base and drinking in particular was frowned upon. However, traditionally the last day was one to cut loose, exchange new contact details and say goodbye.

You all met in the afternoon, having an early dinner, or late lunch before starting the drinking in earnest. Our group had bonded well, the urge to fraternise between ourselves had been discouraged and many who had waited for training to be over, sought each other for a night of passion before leaving, perhaps never to meet again.

You had no such urges with any members of the group, and never made any indication you were interested, but that didn’t stop some awkward overtures from a few of the group. Most took it well, and moved onto another target or decided that they would be just as satisfied by the warmth of alcohol. However, one classmate was insistent, repeatedly flirting, touching your arm or knee. For a moment you considered relenting, allowing him to take you to his room, you had so much sexual frustration built up that you could power New York for a month. But the thought of anyone’s hands but Agent Walker’s touching you made your stomach churn.

You were annoyed with yourself for having fallen so completely for a man who didn’t even care enough to show up to the celebration, despite invitations to and tradition allowing him to. You said goodbye to the group, and started to walk back to the base, the fresh air no doubt sobering you up. You didn’t want to drink anymore, you had had enough of training and were eager to start the next stage of your career and put Agent Walker in the past.

The early evening chill started to invade your bones as darkness began to fall. You hadn’t thought to bring a jacket, thinking by the time you left you would have been drunk enough not to care if it snowed. But you had left early, not drunk enough by half for the northern wind not to slice through your light knitted sweater. You crossed your arms about yourself, tucked your hands under your arms and increased your pace.

That’s when you heard it. The sound of two sets of footfalls. Someone was following you, had been following you for quite some time, but had hidden their pursuit by masking their steps with the sound of yours. Your sudden change in pace had revealed their presence. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you contemplated your next move.

You were past the town, in the forest now, no buildings to hide behind, nothing to give you cover. You didn’t have your gun on you either, you knew firearms and alcohol didn’t mix and you weren’t required to carry your gun with you at this stage. You decide to cross the street, looking both ways would allow you to see who was behind you without making them think you had heard them.

Looking left and looking right, you catch a glimpse of Agent Walker. You freeze while paranoid thoughts run through your mind. You must be hallucinating, maybe you were drunker than you…

You couldn’t finish the thought as rough hands covered your mouth and snaked their way around your waist. You were picked up and taken into the forest. Warm breaths panted in your ear as your abductor restrained your clawing, kicking body. You tried to bit at the hand holding your mouth when a voice calmly whispered in your ear, “Why do you fight so hard, pet? I know you want this.”

There was no denying it, it was Agent Walker. For some reason that only made you fight harder. No, not now, not when you had finally been able to put him behind you, accept that it would never happen.

Walker chuckled at your neck, you felt his course hair and soft warm lips on your neck, “It doesn’t matter, if you want it or not, I will have you now.”

Your body slumps at his words and the moan that had you had suppressed since the first time you met fell out of your mouth into his suffocating hand.

“That’s what I thought, pet.” Walker cooed, “I knew you could be a good girl.”

A throbbing heat blossomed between your legs at his words. Those words he said in your nightly fantasies were now said out loud and your body responded in the way you had trained it to all those lonely nights.

Walker took you to the ground, his heavy body pressed against you, pushing you into the fallen autumn leaves and damp soil. In the closest thing Walker ever made to an apology he said, “This is not the ideal place, or time, but I’m leaving tonight and I needed to know.”

You wanted to ask what he needed to know, but he still covered your mouth. His free hand worked your pants down your thighs and you felt your underwear pull away wet from your sodden core. Walker wasted no time and thrust his large fingers between your legs.

With a satisfied growl he said, “I thought so.”

His fingers searched, finding your core he thrust two fingers in roughly. The force is unexpected and your first instinct is to run and crawl away. Walker’s weight held you down and despite all your training, all your hand to hand combat knowledge, you know there is no way out.

“Stop fighting me,” he grunted as he starts to pump his thick fingers, and the squelching sounds of your wetness hits your ear. You’re confused, you wanted him so long, but not now, not like this. Tears welled in your eyes and you start to cry, frustrated and desperate you realise you’re crying because you know once he takes you, you will never want another. He was close to destroying you before this, now you don’t think you could ever recover.

His teeth are at your ear neck, biting you, marking you, “You’re so wet for me,” Walker says as he removes his fingers and you hear his belt come undone. His knee is between yours forcing your legs apart. “You should be able to take me, pet.”

You feel his cock rub against your slick slit and you begin to fight anew. Please, not like this, not in the dirt, not quick. If it had to be like this you wanted it to be bad, awkward forgettable sex. But it’s not, not with him, one look at him and you knew you wanted him and yet, now that it was happening you wanted it to stop.

When he entered you, a guttural scream came from you as he tore into you. It had been so long, you were so tight, you felt your walls clamp tighter around him, your body instinctively trying to expel his rough intrusion. “Oh Fuck, your cunt is as tight as virgins, but we both know you’re anything but.”

You moan at gravelly voice and your hips start to move, meeting his with each thrust. Your movements encouraged him, and he pumped harder. Panting into your ear he grunted with the effort.

Walker moved his hand from your mouth to your throat, possessively applying pressure, building you to a crescendo as your moans became shouts and you chanted his name. The heat that bloomed became a fire through your whole being, and you trembled with its heat.

“Call me August when I make you cum, pet,” he snarled, his voice almost animalistic, primal and dominant.

And you did, the months of desire, frustration, unfulfilled fantasies and loneliness all exploded from you as you screamed, “August!” Over and over your whole body contracted with pleasure and you felt your tight core milk around him, and the pressure built again as waves of little aftershocks rippled through you and you thought your climax would never end.

August pumped you through it and he bit into your shoulder as his already too big cock started thickening and pulse as he filled you with his seed.

You both laid, panting and spent. It had been over quickly, but the foreplay had been months in the making, you were both on a knife’s edge before it had begun. You could see his face for the first time and his eyes searched yours. You don’t know what he was looking for, but he seemed to find it and pulled your head to his and laid a kiss on your forehead.

He stood up, fixed his clothes before pulling you up and fixing your pants. He went to your bag and pulled out some tissues. Like a mother would for a child, he spat on them and wiped the dirt off your face while picking leaves out of your hair.

When he was satisfied August said, “I’ll be out of country for about a month, I’ll come to you.” He took your throat in his hand and kissed your lips with a bruising force. “You’re mine now, don’t forget it.” Then he walked away.

Too stunned to move you stood there a few minutes before continuing the walk back to the base. The tension you had felt before was gone, but the ache between your legs was new and not altogether unwelcome. You thought about what he had said to you and despite not asking you, you wanted to be his. It was too late for you now, he was in you and you would never be the same.

Part 2

Tag List:

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi

[isjasz]

[Day 317]

It is that time of the year im suffering with essay writing. Then i remembered i can also put them through the suffering. Then I remembered this conversation happened yesterday in @hotguycomiczine LMAOSDOAJWEHIAWH

[calsartisttrashbin]

“Hello, Miss Kimiko speaking.” … “No busier than normal, why?” … “A contest? Wh-“ … “…sigh when is it?” … “…you mean you signed me up last minute? Talk about poor planning.” … “Fine, fine, I’ll make time for it.” … “Mhm, goodbye.” Click.

ok this took way longer than i wanted it to but! i’ve signed up Miss Kimiko here for the TF2 OC Contest!! Little close to the sign up deadline for my liking but please vote for her!

[synesthete-sylke]

just let them rest in the third life afterlife

[momhowell]

I'll never get over Phil saying he's the "alpha of the spin class" in the newlyweds video and saying that he can't go to workout classes because he doesn't like being told what to do

In my mind it conjures the image of Phil showing up to the gym in a hot pink workout matching set with a tiny dog in his workout bag. And when he's told it's time to get on the treadmill he pulls down his sparkly sunglasses and says "no. why would I do that."

[astralbondpro]

The Instructor (1981) // Dir. Don Bendell

[uncanny-tranny]

Diversity win! All the male mannequins in the nursing class I was in had vaginas (literally all)!

Diversity loss! Everyone was Weird about it